Has Anyone Seen My Mojo???

I apologize for the delay in posts...writer's block attack!

I thought a poem or three might be in order...

I walk the line

I walk the Line of will and won’t

I sit the fence of do and don’t

I stand atop a pinpoint, balanced

And what scares me is the complete abandon

With which I could launch myself

Eyes open, into the unknown

My sick Heart

The love I have is no less

And for that matter not greater

Than those who love

 With hearts that beat better and stronger

Than my own sick heart

The pain I feel is heavy and hard

Dark as the black rubbed from the night

And squeezes on my own sick heart

As unyielding as if it could not burst open wide

And should it shatter, this fragile heart

I would be in good company

Of the heartbroken who have come before

And did not judge me by my weakness

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Self and Other Me

Self is me, the flesh and bone

Other is she-split off of we

And ne’er the twain shall meet.

Self has breath and life and heart

Other has fire and sense apart

Other, she pines and has desires

Where Self looks on as things transpire

Self and Other a unique pair

Self’s closed eyes can see her there

Watching Other as she does her best

Living the life that Self protects

Self is cautious and ever aware

 Of Other letting down her hair

She does the things that Self would not

While Other is free , Self is chained

Where Other’s untroubled  , Self is strained.

Self’s behavior is scrutinized

While Other lives to fantasize

The twain have met and made fast friends

Other is mighty and so persuasive

Life is sweet and often short and should ne’er be wasted

Now Other and Self both are me

She and I are one and We

Our blood flows through shared physic

Both are strong, neither; weak

Loving and living as we believe

With open heart and smile a glowing

Hyper-observant and colors showing

We, as one, Present and new .

Take a Message to Mary

Don't you just wish you could dig out a moat, fill it and know that whatever lay within the confines would be forever safe from harm? It was so much easier to imagine that being the truth, when we were young.

It is me, with my sister, in the photo above. We were about this age when our Dad remarried an amazing woman named Lisa. We gained a lot in that union, including a new Grandmother; her name, Mary.

Everything was different with Grandma Mary! She was a grand adventure for us! She was so interesting. Her house was new and exciting, full of exotic things like animal hides and sharks jaws. Her home was always so full of hustle and bustle, our family had grown!

We loved going there. It was a welcomed blessing to my mother as well! She was, up to that point,single-handedly raising two boisterous girls. She was free from our inquisitions and energy for at least a week end a month now, thanks to Grandma Mary.

At that time, Grandma Mary lived in Buena Park, a stones throw from Knott's Berry Farm. As I sit here and reminisce, I recall that it was because of her proximity to this very park, that I even attempted a roller coaster, at age 7. After an hours wait in line, amidst my own fears, I got stuffed into the carriage and buckled in. After 30 seconds, it was over and I had found out something about myself that has only grown with time...I LOVE a good roller coaster!

Grandma Mary cried with us, the day her daughter, our Stepmother, Lisa and our Dad moved to Tennessee which was my father's home. This, though sad as it was to see them go, started a new tradition at her home. Each time we would come over, we would record, on an old cassette recorder, a tape to Mama and Daddy. It would be a tape of whatever would come to mind.

There were tapes of us belting out Billy Joel songs and tapes of us telling of our days in school or in summer camp. These tapes were constructed during cookie bakes and ornament making marathons, costume sewing extravaganzas and while snuggled up in Grandma's giant bed, watching a horror movie!

Over the years, only one of these tapes remains in my possession. I have listened to it time and again and it always comforts me to hear those long ago voices. I love hearing my Grandmother speaking, in between our rantings, filling the folks in on family news, laughing.She has a deep and sultry quality to her voice and it is so soothing and reminds me of a simpler time in my life.

I think about those tapes and what makes them so special. For me, it was the way that we were able to say whatever we wanted and how that brought us closer together. It was one place where my sister and I could take time alone, to speak to our parents and say what was on our minds. Grandma Mary never listened in and that made us feel important and trusted.

I looked forward to each visit with Grandma Mary. She is solely responsible for my love of two of my favorite things ever...Horror movies and dressing up on Halloween!

I think of her whenever I see a brown Chevy Nova, large sunglasses, plastic cookie cutters, zebra print, open rail stair banisters, African Masks, seashells and these things bring up lovely feelings.

While we cannot always throw a moat around something we have built up and treasure, to protect it...we can protect our memories. Fondly recalling things which change us and shape us and and make us who we are today is part of honoring our past and in doing so, we make room for their memories in our future.

Geocaching...a reality or a hoax?

I took my debut GEOCACHING journey today.

I set coordinates into my GPS, packed up my bag with tiny trinkets to exchange with whatever booty I could find on my treasure hunt and I hit the road. All of the caches I chose were fairly close to my home. I selected four locations, all with different names created by the persons who have hidden them.

A couple of them described what I might find, a Jack of Hearts playing card, for example. This particular cache is one of 52 "hides" and each suit provides a clue to finding the next, and so on.

Some stated only the type of container that would encase the goods. Some folks have a cache with a political motivation, like the sewage plant that was opened and then closed down...a waste of tax dollars.

The caches can stand for all sorts of things.

For me, I wanted a treasure hunt: nothing more, nothing less. I was disappointed to say the least. At each of my four scheduled stops, I was met with emptiness. There were no small treasures to be found.;no traces of anyone who might have come before me. I found no prizes, jewels or whatsits.

I will not let this deter me. I will look, instead, at the caches that have recently been reported as"found" and try my luck with those. I will allow my inner pirate to venture out once more, in hopes of hitting the mother lode...or at least a small treasure trove.

My Heart As A Moving Box...

Moving is an arduous task. A move can take months of preparation and advance planning. You have to decide what is important to you and those will be the things you take with you. You have to make a choice about what is less important and can therefore, be left behind.

Once the selection has been made, you take care to guard the fragile items and packing commences.
You cushion those objects and surround them with a barrier so they will come to no harm. Protecting the things that are dearest to you seems like a natural defense.

The vessel weighted down with delicate matter, laded with precious cargo and the truth is that you know you could survive and go on without these prized possessions but, their loss would be noticeable.

Though you have taken great care to pad and shield the contents, they are jostled and turned loose from their blockade. They are shattered into a multitude of pieces which may or may not have irreparable damage.

In some cases, it is left for you to decide if the value of the loss is greater than the lesson.

This is the exact position my heart sits in today. It is difficult to know what the right thing to do is in any uncomfortable situation. There are no clear answers, no easier way and no high road.

I was asked to read about loving the unlovely. I have read it, sat with it, ruminated it, reread it and I can honestly say, without any doubt that it IS entirely possible to love the unlovely.

In doing so, though, the side effects are not as one might imagine. The process of loving someone who feels they are unlovable is draining and has made me feel a churning in my core. Lacking are the kind feelings and the sweetness one generally exudes while loving someone; these have fled  from my side.

I am looking to the great leaders, in meditation, as I cannot do this alone.

The conclusion I have been shown is that all of my teachers have the same lesson..Live in Joy, In love, even among those who hate...Fill your mind with compassion...Expand/Radiate/Dissolve...Everything in the Universe is within you. Ask all of yourself...and so on.

So while it is possible to love the unlovely...it is a true test of faith to do so. Faith in love, faith in everything I have ever known of love and mostly, faith in myself that I am doing what I am meant to do.

there is magic in this photo

 There are no words to describe the beauty in this photo. I truly wish I knew where this was taken because I would LOVE to see it with my own eyes! Enjoy.

when I close my eyes...

When I close my eyes I see the way the world can be, should be.

I struggle each day to remember the lessons my teachings have shown me...Patience, Kindness and Tolerance.

I am patient with most everyone but I often have a hard time being patient with myself. This might be my most difficult lesson. Through patience, I have learned to truly be still and to pay close attention to what goes on around me.

Kindness is easy. It is something that comes from within and is contagious. If you are kind to others they will, in turn, wish to show kindness to someone else. They will tell their friends and they will tell two friends and so on and so on...

Tolerance is the tough one lately! I remind myself that in order to understand and practice tolerance you should start with your enemy. It is hardest there and a complex lesson to grasp.

This world may not be perfect but, I can make my egocentric world the best it can be, by being the best version of myself.

I know I am on the road I am supposed to be traveling.

Happy February has only 28 days...

So as we leave the month set aside to honor love,I am reminded that love is not always pretty! Sometimes love has an ugly side; it is after all,a verb. Love does not just occur, we work to create love.

The following letters are samples I had written, in order to make sense of things for myself when love was showing her other face. Please note that these were written as an exercise only and were not delivered.

Dear Ex:

You were the first boy that I actually called my boyfriend and so that was special. Well we really did not take the time to get to know each other while we were together. I was just a girl and you barely had your adult body hair. What was it about you that made you so attractive to me? I loved your long hair and how you wore it and carried it. I loved your deep voice, as deep a voice as one your age could have.  I loved your friends. I loved sleeping over at your house, in your converted garage. I remember sneaking, in my underwear, to the bathroom hoping not to see your mom, along the way. It is funny that I am remembering that as if it were yesterday I was there.

Memories come at strange times. I do not remember specifics of our relationship or about you really, just that you are a memory of mine, tucked away in my mind. I do recall that you treated me kindly and never were cross.

Dear Ex:

You were, in my eyes, evil incarnate. You were a user of people. You probably still are.

There were two good things to come out of our relationship; I met two of my best friends because of you. You lured me, like a sly fox.

I never loved you but I was curious of why you wanted me to. I realized, when it was too late, and my emotions were already invested, that it was a game you played. I was probably not the first, nor would I be the last. You hurt me and I really liked you and valued you as a friend, until I understood I was never your friend but a conquest.

 Even when your game was won, you kept me close in proximity and tried to reconnect several times.  We had a few friends that were in common but mostly, our friends became my friends and they are still my friends.

Over the years, I have seen you here and there. Though I have changed and aged, as I suppose you have as well, I always see the person who shattered my faith in people for a short time in my life.

looking forward to March! :)