Get a grip..or I will

I stand on the road and inhale deeply the woods, the damp earth.  Home…well not technically but I spend a great deal of time here in the elsewhere so it just could be part of that word.As I begin walking toward the ramshackle bar, I hear the lively music, laughter and salivate at the thought of that delectable drink that always feeds the fire within.

“Welcome Amoreaux”, a familiar voice says behind me as I sit down at my usual table in the back. I don’t even question why it remains empty, but accept that it is. I turn and look at the speaker and smile. I don’t even question that he is here or knows when I’ll walk in. Just another acceptance.  “Thanks”, I say and take the glass of rum from him.  “Might want to keep those coming”, I say.  he laughs.  “When have I ever skimped on nectar”? he asks. We both laugh at that. We both sit quietly sipping our drinks, chatting, catching up, watching those who’ve come to visit the bar.  I am finally relaxing.

“It’s you!”, says an excited woman.  “It’s really you! I told you it was her” she yells back at her party. I’m a bit startled since few venture near or dare break the boundary of space that is implicit when I visit. My host begins to speak, and as I see his face darken in anger, I slightly touch his sleeve. “Whom do you believe me to be?” I ask the still overly excited woman.  I glance at the embarrassed faces of her party and see those who are waiting for the other shoe to drop stand and watch. “The swamp witch”, she almost yells it.  “you are famous and are one of the best readers I’ve heard of.”  “I want a reading”.  My host is becoming angrier by the minute. “I am without cards atm”, I tell her, trying to push her off kindly. “Conjure them” she says. Wow.  That is more than a little rude.  That thought must have shown on my face because one of her companions caught her arm.”C’mon Dora, we are interrupting and I’m sure she doesn’t want to read for anyone right now”. I smile at her companion. “I just came to relax.  Perhaps another time”. “Look”, says the pain named Dora. “I came here specifically to find you or Weaver to get a reading.  You’re here, so I want it now”. “Oh a reading.  Well, why didn’t you say so! For the love of Efalba! Where in the hell do you think you are? You aren’t in Oz where some great wizard comes from behind his curtain to give your heart’s desire.  Nor are you in Kansas anymore Dorothy so be careful what you demand and from whom.  You may think you know me, but in reality you only see what was presented. ” I take a breath and see smirks from some in the crowd and fear from others. “However”, I look directly at the pain in my ass , “since you came here specifically for a reading, allow me to oblige”. I wave my hands and the music changes, the candles glow and incense flows like a wave, caressing the room. Cards appear to my right and I chuckle seeing the raven deck, gifted to me from a friend. I begin to order the cards, shuffling as I speak. “Your friends that are with you are afraid for you Cher”, I say softly as the cards run through my fingers. “They may already know what the cards will speak non?”Dora’s face blanches slightly. “I don’t know what you mean.  They don’t read cards”. “Non, they do not”, I say, keeping my voice soft, allowing my drawl to play out in familiar cadence to those who know me well. “But they do know you and who you are, so they really have no need”. At that, I stop shuffling and begin to deal the cards. The woman watches closely as if to check for sleight of hand. I chuckle to myself.  There is no need for sleight of hand for this woman knows well what her personal card is and what it means to her. I watch her face, “You see yourself there Cher?” I ask softly. “I…I can’t read”, she begins. “Ah, but there you are wrong Cher”, I say.  “There is within us all something that tells us who we are and our place even if we choose to not acknowledge it.” I point out her card. “You seem drawn to this one.  You know it to be yourself.  It’s one you claim time and again but refuse to tell others because you know the depth of that meaning.  So tonight because you asked, I will reveal its colors. The you, you show others is a mask.  You draw energy from those around you, siphoning it at will because hey, who’s it going to hurt?  Within you are needy, whiney and have the desire to be center of attention to those closest to you and get bent out of shape when anyone dares to call bullshit to your charade. You complain that nobody will listen to you and yet what are you saying that is newsworthy? Are you reaching out to lift others with your gifts or blowing them off as is your usual game?  Did you ask those you call kindred if they were well or need help? When you hear of those on the edge, will you give them a nudge or ignore them?  I think either one is a viable outcome given your inner character. You tend to surround yourself with “yes men”, those you can con into thinking your knowledge is long but in reality is short on talent since you gain your information from others who earned that shit with blood and sweat, and sometimes deaths. In general, maybe you are like the wizard since he was nothing more than a charlatan, lost in his journey but convinced others he was more than he was. You Dora, are like Dorothy..you have what it takes within but since you make no real effort, it stays locked within. I am not like the sappy Glinda…I don’t toss glitter and tell you what to do.  You want to gain real knowledge, I suggest you work harder, treat people better and develop some damn manners”. with that, I gathered the cards, dismissed the ambiance with a sharp wave and sat back anger flashing in my eyes. Dora swallowed hard, “Thank you for your time”, she said quietly.  She turned away with her friends and they all made their way to the door.

“Come Amoreaux”, says my friend. “We will go in the back where you can rest”.  I nod, feeling drained as I allow myself to be led to the back room to lie on the couch and sip coffee laced with rum. The bar goes back to its usual level of energy and all is as usual.

Readings take a lot of energy and demanding one is more than rude.  Good thing I have others to rely on to help me feel better afterwards. “Sleep”, he says. “noone will disturb you”.  I close my eyes, feeling soft covering encase me, shutting out the cold. I know this is a safe place to do so, unlike other places I’ve traveled.  Yep..time to sleep…without dreams.

 

Just a little cracked

I’ve forgotten how it feels to be held close against a dragon’s heart. I’ve been so busy trying to be all things to all people that I lost myself in the shuffle.  It’s been coming I guess, but yesterday it all snowballed on me and I was more than a little snappish to people who help me daily. I’ve apologized to them but realized that I needed to bail myself out(with help).

I lit the sage, turned on music that helps me center and asked tribe for help in energy assist. As I laid my head on my desk and allowed my thoughts to drift into nothingness, my beautiful friend Brin came to gather me close. She’s never pushy so stays close to help if I need her but today she didn’t wait. I’m gathered as a child, held close to a beating heart that lulls me into contentment as my hair is stroked and my spirit is soothed. I smell the glade around me, pulling in that earthiness, hearing the dragon’s song resonate within me.  Subconsciously I understand the words, but if I were to be asked could not tell you what they are.  I only know that they speak to me on a level that is so deep, it’s hard to find its beginning. So I stay there in Brin’s arms, feeling like I am home. I am loathe to leave that warm, comforting space, but the mundane calls with its needs to the usual tasks and issues, so I make my way back, content that Brin again walks next to me, close enough for me to reach out and touch if I ever again forget who I am. Lesson learned. Spirit soothed. Life goes on.

transformation?

Transformation: to change or morph into something new or different.

I’ve been accused of this word as of late. I don’t see it myself. I don’t see myself doing anything new or different. I’ve lost a lot of weight… just by changing activity.  I changed some negative energy by changing jobs, added some oomph to spiritual path that was lacking.  Basically refuse to go by anything but my nickname.But is that enough to call it a true transformation? I’m still who I’ve always been on the inside. I treat my friends like the loved ones they are. Help my family as I can, and work like I always have. So that isn’t different, so to me I’m not morphing into anything new.

A friend wisely said that perhaps now the outside reflects the inner person. If so, would that mean I’ve dropped the mask that I habitually wear. Does that mean I don’t need or want it anymore? I’m not sure. Its always been easy to hide behind that mask. It was comfortable, dark and protective. Now I’m walking in the open and have stopped running from that which pulls at me. No masks here folks.. all me from here on out.

Do I think I’ll continue improving myself? Most likely. Our paths have to do so as we grow in understanding. Physically? Maybe… we like to tweak things all the time right? At any rate, I just like to think of it as personal growth, not drastic change. And looking into the mirror is definitely more pleasant these days.

place the blame where it belongs

I’m going to try to end the year with getting rid of baggage. It’s been stuffed in my personal closet for way too long.

 

The news is filled with two men who garnered the respect and admiration of millions everywhere as the ultimate father figure. Bill Cosby and Stephen Collins. One denies his victims claims and the other skirts around the truth with “I only touched them”. Both neglect to see the impact their actions had on the lives of those they assaulted. Both with their positions of power negate the believability of their victims in the eyes of others. Because after all, they are not those type of guys are they? Cosby would have us believe that everyone is lying and has ulterior motive for coming out. How about, they just want to be whole? Collins in his denial of not being a pervert who preys on little girls negates the knowledge that his actions changed that little girl forever. She was thrust into a world she wasn’t ready for, colored how she sees herself as a person and violates any trust she may ever have for those who want to be close to her.

 

So how do I know this? I too was subjected to sexual abuse growing up by family members who knew that my home life was already a mess and therefore I would never be believed if I told or that if I did, it would be somehow my fault. As I grew up, it kept me isolated because what do I have in common with girls fumbling in back seats with boys when a man had already claimed what he wanted from me? I didn’t date much. When I did, it was with groups because that’s safer. I didn’t trust much (something that I’m still working on). Do you know how long it’s been to look in a mirror and not see a damaged little girl? I wish I could say that marriage transformed me but it didn’t. I still kept isolated, with few friends, stayed busy with my children and their lives. It’s only as I age that I’ve begun to value myself as a real person with gifts to offer to the world. Life isn’t perfect but it’s also not terror filled with nightmares  I can live with that.

 

There it is.Out on front street. For the victims, I applaud your courage. For their scum bag purveyors of pain, I wish for you to get everything coming to you that you deserve… And then some.

 

Comme vous recolterez ainsi vous semer vie me sera pas le votre pour profiter. Les visages de ceux que voux leses doit etre dans  vas reves la douleur vous saurez toujours.

 

a prison of my own making

I find myself in a quandary today. I woke up in prison. It’s not at if I haven’t always been here, but the reality has finally hit me. I’m in a self created, well maintained prison. And other than a quick exit, I have no idea what to do to open the gates.

 

This has nothing to do with my spirituality, for those thinking my soul is in danger. It has everything to do with my physical and emotional state. I’ve always been born in the helper role… Giving, carrying, making things easier for others. My ego convinced me that they needed me. My friendship, my knowledge, my help. I was wrong. What they needed was an easy way out.. Someone they could blame if my advice didn’t pan out for them (never mind they may have skipped some steps or changed what I told/showed them to make it easier for them). Either way, they didn’t really need me and when I allowed myself to be convinced they did the doors changed shut as I waked through, never to be opened again.

I thought with the change of jobs things would be different, but while my abilities are often appreciated, it too is because I make someone else’s job easier and they reap the benefits. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the challenge of helping others. But my eyes are opening to certain aspects of that.

 

I thought with a loss of a great deal of weight (38 lbs and counting) I would feel better about myself, but the old insecurities are still there. I see no beauty (just the scars), an old woman who waited too late to explore certain aspects of her life and allowed the prison to keep real friendships on the outside. No physical interactions allowed because that would mean I have a life. Instead just like in physical prisons everywhere, there is distance in those relationships we cultivate, online, by phone etc. I tried subtly to reach out (maybe it wasn’t too subtle but I’ve never really been an expert at sharing what I need/expect from others). That was greeted with polite rejection then silence. Message received. Puts down the phone.

 

I’m not sure what to do really other then accept where I am and decide how messy an exit plan I am willing to devse and execute.

 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hHVBzLGAIbU

 

 

I think my life moves in circles. I know I’ve written about labels before. But apparently some feel the need to try and put me in my place.

 

I’m not sure why others feel the need to label others. Isn’t it enough to be a human being? Why the need to assume, however incorrectly that because someone does something contrary to how they believe they should act then of course something is amiss. Why is that? Y’all go all out touting how open you are to others beliefs and yet let them step over that invisible line you’ve boxed them in, it’s an all out come apart of the greatest magnitude! They’ve changed the flavor of their koolaid! Forgetting that they hate the saccharine crap or that they never followed formal protocol anyway. How dare they act like what one perceives to be the guidelines of another flavor. Really? Does being a decent human being belong to just one group? I must have missed that memo. And OMG how dare they not want to tell you about their personal beliefs or practices. That must mean they either don’t know anything or are too embarrassed to let others know how flawed they are. Really? You must have missed all the blood on the floor in past writings. I readily admit I’m nowhere near perfect.. Not even close. How and what I believe is personal. A few who know me well understand what direction I travel and yet even they do not question my behavior (at least not openly). So I have to tell you that even trolls such as yourself have not earned the right to peek behind the curtain.

I have a name.. Several actually. Some are public, others not so much. Try using one of those instead of trying to push me into some round hole that fits your preconceived ideas of who and what I am. You might find that paints a clearer picture of others. And you won’t come off looking like the asshat you appear to be.

remembrance

This coming Monday is Memorial Day. These days it often is filled with sales galore on electronics, things for Summer and three day weekend and firing up the grill. The historical value of the day has shifted.

 

Memorial Day was begun three years after the War Between the States ended (that’s a southern expression BTW, since war is NOT civil in any way), on May 5,1868. There were very few in the country that had not been touched by losing a loved one in the war,700 thousand! The official day was moved to May 30, since flowers to decorate the graves of the fallen would be in bloom all over the country. A solemn day, filled with decorating the graves, speeches, hymns and remembrance. The day has grown to include the fallen from every war this country has been involved in. No matter how unpopular.

 

On this Memorial Day, no matter what you think of the government, the laws of the land (after all, it is your right to speak your mind), take time to reflect on those who paid the ultimate sacrifice for you to be able to voice that opinion, to live as you believe. Thank those who served, are serving for their contribution to your freedoms that you take for granted everyday.

celebration of nothing

I find myself walking down a familiar road. I observe that the wheat field is covered in a sheen of frost. The ground crunches beneath my feet and I’m like wth? It’s supposed to be spring. “I believe your gran called it blackberry winter” says a voice beside me. I look to see my old friend George. I nod in agreement at his assessment. The one last freeze in spring that prod the beautiful berries to burst forth with their dark sweetness. I tell him that with the silver sheen on the webs, it appears as decorations for a fete. “That could be arranged” he tells me.” What will we be celebrating?” I ask. “Nothing and yet something. Everything yet nothing. “I laugh at that ridiculous statement but then I realize that it’s been awhile since I’ve done that, celebrate just to celebrate, to enjoy the day and revel in that which is within. I look around. Look at George and tell him, “let’s party. “Instantly tables appear, food and music abounds. Friends appear as if they had been summoned. It was a grand celebration of nothing and yet it felt like it was the celebration of something important. Life is interesting in that way. The things that are, often aren’t, and they things we think aren’t, often are.

life reflections

IMG_20140308_141107Today I was having a conversation with my husband about other people’s marital woes. we spoke on fidelity, trust, work ethics (both at the relationship as well as providing for the family). It got me to thinking about the vows people take as they enter into their relationship and what it really means to them.

The pictures above? Two young kids with no idea what those words meant at all. Both grew up in abusive households, both left home early and came together forming an”us against the world”kind of relationship. If you had told me that 38 years later, (36 married) that we would be better friends now than at 16,I would have laughed. Through ups and downs, laughter and tears, here we are. With a better understanding of what it means to stand beside one another no matter what storms come. The”through sickness and health”strained my sanity when he became ill and almost died. I would curse the dawn that I survived the night and then put one foot in front of the other doing what had to be done. And yet even now, he tries to make sure that my car is drivable, that there is enough money for gas to get me back and work, does laundry so I don’t have to, cooks as well. Emotional words don’t come easily for him.. He says that is my forte.. Words. His is actions.

I think too often people don’t give enough thought to their vows, it’s the”I don’t think that means what you think it does” kind of thing. And in truth, I can honestly say that I fell into that category myself. Maybe it’s age that helps me reflect on the true meaning. Maybe it’s the life experiences. Whatever it is. Is given me a new appreciation.

Hello darkness my old friend

I’ve always loved that song by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, Sounds of Silence. It’s always spoken to me and is a go to song when I get a little twisted. Today is such a day.

 

The news feeds on social media is full of crap (like that’s unusual), but the death of yet another celebrity due to drug use and the over philosophizing and woe  is me from many sets my teeth on edge. A throw off comment from a friend caught me off guard.”Not many are as strong as you”. Strong? Moi? I’d better check that mirror again. Know what I see? A woman who still feels the sting of her raising, the losses of family that didn’t/doesn’t want to know her. That child who endured so much, coming so close to ending everything because she could not see the light nor feel warmth in the abyss she found herself in.

Want details? Yeah… Today you shall have them because you dared judge something you know nothing about. I grew up in a household that was seriously flawed. My dad was an alcoholic. He claimed he didn’t since he just drank beer, but he lost rank, money, and driving privileges because of it. He was raised by his grandmother because his alcoholic mother ran off and deserted him and his siblings for other men. Seriously skewed his view of women. (I’ll get to that later). Then there was my mother the enabler. She went out of her way to protect his career since it allowed her to walk away from near squalor of 11 kids and share cropper parents. To the exclusion of ignoring her children. As the oldest I was put in charge of the other two. Cleaned house, put supper on the table etc. It wasn’t until I was grown did I understand the magnitude of what it cost me. As I grew up, and I hit puberty, the names started when I did as normal children do and make friends with the opposite sex. Whore,slut were the tame ones. At the tender age of 11 and in Jr high… I had no clue what they meant or why. I just knew that to speak to a boy got me slapped across the face or worse. I’ve lost count of the times I went to school with bruises, black eyes, busted lips. Fell down the stairs was normal excuse. Nobody said a damn thing. All my life I kept thinking there was something wrong with me. It did not matter that I kept straight A average, stayed out of trouble. I was worthless to those who brought me into this world. I held/hold my mother accountable because I believe mother’s protect their young.. Yeah. That makes me clueless I guess.

As an adult, it does little to my wounded self to understand that violence is often included in an addicts world. It affects those closest to them. It matters not that I understand my mother operated barely walking the ledge of sanity her whole life (she was diagnosed schizophrenic after my dad died and had probably had been my whole life). What matters is that each day I climb out of the abyss, facing the day, one foot at a time, making each moment count. Not for others approval anymore. This time I do it for myself. Does that make me strong? ~snort~ I think it makes me crazy. I mean seriously, who would keep trying? Maybe it makes me a little wiser. I no longer make excuses for others nor accept them. I refuse to allow lies clutter up relationships.  In short, I demand accountability. And I set a damn high bar.

If that means after reading the pain bled out above that you still don’t get it, just move along.. You just had to be there I guess.