I have or have been:
turned off
turned on
turned away
turned over
turned around
turned in
turned out
turned inside out
turned upside down
turned left
turned right
turned green
turned red
turned eggs
turned tricks
turned straight
turned gay
turned vegetarian
turned unitarian
turned christian
turned nondenominational
turned to stone
turned democrat
turned liberal
turned sober
turned a new page
turned over a new leaf
and
turned the channel
some of these turning points were welcomed
some were not
some were my choice
some were not
some were happy
some...not so much
but...the most pivotal, to date, turn of events, rock my world,
thought provoking,
set my moral compass in motion was...
turning 50
a season
a decade
a half century
wow
how blessed am i
because i have a song reference for just about
every situation, moment, conversation, etc.
i quote my most favorite of all songs
a song that reminds me of a time when i was young
-40 years young
and my sister would echo the words coming
from the radio, the music, and i would be still in the melodic sound,
the harmony, her voice, as this would play
From the Book of Ecclesiastes and The Byrds:
To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven
i am a turnstile
About me
- A lil info:
- I am many things to many different people. I have few titles and fewer awards but I am complete in all that I have accomplished. My most precious of all gifts does not belong to me yet I love as if. You may know me, but you'll never really know me because I cannot be anything more than what you want to see even though I am everything I need to be.
Dec 10, 2011
Oct 29, 2011
What the Hulk Must Feel Like
I've become cautious with my writing
Concerned about the masses
Concerned that I might disrespect someone
Like I'm that important
My life is changing...again
One more crutch tossed aside
Not tossed too far though
Just aside
Just out of reach
Toying with me
Like it's a game
A dual between my mind and a pack of cigarettes
Crazy
Making me crazy
They say if you think you're crazy, most likely you are not
Crazy people don't know they are crazy
That's a good thing because I think I'm totally nuts lately!
Like the beginning of the end of my drinking I needed to adjust how I went about my daily activities
I needed to avoid the "triggers," which meant I needed to avoid everything and everyone!
No, that was not going to work
I planned my smoking, by the number, as if my life depended on it
Intertwined and on my mind 24/7
And now I was about to abruptly stop the only way i knew to function and go it alone,
cold turkey
what the fuck was I thinking.
When I finally quit, just over three months ago, it felt euphoric
I was so, sooo happy and proud of myself
I shouted it to world! Ok, I shouted it mostly to my Mom.
(She is always extremely happy and supportive when I quit doing bad things to myself. At least, she seems to be)
Yes! I put down the smokes! Yay, me!
I Cut off the 1000 lb ball of chain
Killed my slave master
Joined the ranks of the health conscious freaks (of which I lovingly referred to them in my addictions)
But, in order to stay quit, I knew I needed to do one thing...
Find a replacement addiction
Running
Run, run, run, run,
Off to the store I went to buy some new kicks, new duds,
find my mp3 player and start running
a mile, then two, then 3, etc
My euphoria lasted about 3 weeks (even though I kept running and still do)
the excitement turned into depression, anxiety, edginess,
it was hard to be in my own skin
I imagined what it might have felt like when Bruce Banner turned into the Hulk
i'd finish a long run and be so happy that i just wanted to reward myself...with a cigarette
light that shit right up
take a deep drag and let the burn of the smoke crossing my throat and
down into my lungs praise my accomplishment
bringing me that calm that had been missing in the last weeks.
"no," i told myself and continued to tell myself
and with every "no" i continued to become more and more frustrated as the days went on
run some more, was the answer
I started signing up for every 5k run i could find on the weekends
run some more
avoid cleaning the house, doing laundry, cooking meals,
seeing your family
avoid it all and just run
run until the ache of wanting is gone
run until the desire to harm myself is no longer a feeling but just a distant thought
that i can control, turn on and off like a light switch
run until you're so tired that all you want to do is sleep
pass the days
add time to the calendar marking each day that i left that dreadful, disgusting habit behind
run
and so i did
i ran from everything and everybody ---
3 months later
people miss me that i avoided, intentionally and unintentionally
i miss me
i'm tired of being tired
i'm tired of being frustrated and angry
they say it's 6 months of hell until you feel normal again
(i'm not sure what normal is since i've been an addict my entire life, giving up one bad thing at a time)
I've got 3 more to go
so, to those i have offended, hurt, avoided, etc., please know how sorry i am
please know that i am doing this to better myself
please know this is harder than when i quit drinking
please know that i have to change in order to move on and
do some things that i have always wanted to do
please know that as long as i am physically able
i will keep running, because it's what makes me happy
however, i will try to find some balance between running and life
i'm turning 50 next month
i've raised my kids
grown my career
seen some very hard times
been through some very hard struggles
it's my time
eventually the hulk will be silenced
Concerned about the masses
Concerned that I might disrespect someone
Like I'm that important
My life is changing...again
One more crutch tossed aside
Not tossed too far though
Just aside
Just out of reach
Toying with me
Like it's a game
A dual between my mind and a pack of cigarettes
Crazy
Making me crazy
They say if you think you're crazy, most likely you are not
Crazy people don't know they are crazy
That's a good thing because I think I'm totally nuts lately!
Like the beginning of the end of my drinking I needed to adjust how I went about my daily activities
I needed to avoid the "triggers," which meant I needed to avoid everything and everyone!
No, that was not going to work
I planned my smoking, by the number, as if my life depended on it
Intertwined and on my mind 24/7
And now I was about to abruptly stop the only way i knew to function and go it alone,
cold turkey
what the fuck was I thinking.
When I finally quit, just over three months ago, it felt euphoric
I was so, sooo happy and proud of myself
I shouted it to world! Ok, I shouted it mostly to my Mom.
(She is always extremely happy and supportive when I quit doing bad things to myself. At least, she seems to be)
Yes! I put down the smokes! Yay, me!
I Cut off the 1000 lb ball of chain
Killed my slave master
Joined the ranks of the health conscious freaks (of which I lovingly referred to them in my addictions)
But, in order to stay quit, I knew I needed to do one thing...
Find a replacement addiction
Running
Run, run, run, run,
Off to the store I went to buy some new kicks, new duds,
find my mp3 player and start running
a mile, then two, then 3, etc
My euphoria lasted about 3 weeks (even though I kept running and still do)
the excitement turned into depression, anxiety, edginess,
it was hard to be in my own skin
I imagined what it might have felt like when Bruce Banner turned into the Hulk
i'd finish a long run and be so happy that i just wanted to reward myself...with a cigarette
light that shit right up
take a deep drag and let the burn of the smoke crossing my throat and
down into my lungs praise my accomplishment
bringing me that calm that had been missing in the last weeks.
"no," i told myself and continued to tell myself
and with every "no" i continued to become more and more frustrated as the days went on
run some more, was the answer
I started signing up for every 5k run i could find on the weekends
run some more
avoid cleaning the house, doing laundry, cooking meals,
seeing your family
avoid it all and just run
run until the ache of wanting is gone
run until the desire to harm myself is no longer a feeling but just a distant thought
that i can control, turn on and off like a light switch
run until you're so tired that all you want to do is sleep
pass the days
add time to the calendar marking each day that i left that dreadful, disgusting habit behind
run
and so i did
i ran from everything and everybody ---
3 months later
people miss me that i avoided, intentionally and unintentionally
i miss me
i'm tired of being tired
i'm tired of being frustrated and angry
they say it's 6 months of hell until you feel normal again
(i'm not sure what normal is since i've been an addict my entire life, giving up one bad thing at a time)
I've got 3 more to go
so, to those i have offended, hurt, avoided, etc., please know how sorry i am
please know that i am doing this to better myself
please know this is harder than when i quit drinking
please know that i have to change in order to move on and
do some things that i have always wanted to do
please know that as long as i am physically able
i will keep running, because it's what makes me happy
however, i will try to find some balance between running and life
i'm turning 50 next month
i've raised my kids
grown my career
seen some very hard times
been through some very hard struggles
it's my time
eventually the hulk will be silenced
Jul 29, 2011
I am an Addict
Tick, tock, minute by minute, second by second,
hours in a day. A day in a week and a week in a month,
and so on. And so on. And so on I go. On I go. Go.
Keep going. Don't give up. Push through the seconds,
and the minutes, and the hours, and the days, and the weeks,
and on and on.
The world moves so fast, a blur; yet I feel like I'm crawling.
Breathe. Why is it so hard to breath? Unclench. Unclench my jaw, my shoulders, my stomach...my hands. My sweating hands. My warm sweating hands that feel cold to the touch of my burning face, relieved only by intermittent waves of cool, tingly breezes dancing across my skin from head to toe.
Is it time to sleep yet? Sleep will help me breath. I won't think about
breathing because my body automatically knows how when I'm sleeping, right? Why have I forgotten how? Let go.
Let go and let my body do what it already knows how. Let go of the control. I am in control of nothing anyway. Nothing except whether or not I reach, grab, place, consume that bit of once wondrous magic that now turns to poison the minute it mixes with my blood. That poison that so long ago was my gateway out of social hell. My savior. My salvation from shyness, from ugliness, from humiliation, from being less than. It gave me strength and courage to be all that I lacked, to join the illusion, the chain of networks that measure us and rate us and draw from their own experiences and try to make them ours.
Pacing, voices, loneliness, purging, crying, bargaining, praying, begging, screaming, accepting.
Yes, I'll sleep. If I can stop the thoughts of wanting. Wanting more. More is never enough.
Morning.
Wake up and re-live the nightmare. Do it again.
Do it until the poison is out of the blood.
Do it until I can breath again without thinking about it.
Do it until the shaking and sweats go away.
Because they will. I know they will. They say they will and I believe. I can no longer trust the illusion.
And when they do, when my body stops retaliating for not giving it what I said was good for so many years, and I am calm and there is peace and the cravings stop, what residuals will I find from all this hard work known as "detox?"..
Life
Unveiled, Uncensored, Raw and Real.
In my face and mine to decide how to react to it because for so many years the poison did all the reacting for me.
Enough
I had enough and am tired of living in the mist of a fog laden and a no-way-there's-a-happy ending fairytale.
Enough
I never have to do this again.
Tick, tock, second by second, minute by minute, hours in a day,
a day in a week and a week in a month and then...
Happy Anniversary. Breathe.
hours in a day. A day in a week and a week in a month,
and so on. And so on. And so on I go. On I go. Go.
Keep going. Don't give up. Push through the seconds,
and the minutes, and the hours, and the days, and the weeks,
and on and on.
The world moves so fast, a blur; yet I feel like I'm crawling.
Breathe. Why is it so hard to breath? Unclench. Unclench my jaw, my shoulders, my stomach...my hands. My sweating hands. My warm sweating hands that feel cold to the touch of my burning face, relieved only by intermittent waves of cool, tingly breezes dancing across my skin from head to toe.
Is it time to sleep yet? Sleep will help me breath. I won't think about
breathing because my body automatically knows how when I'm sleeping, right? Why have I forgotten how? Let go.
Let go and let my body do what it already knows how. Let go of the control. I am in control of nothing anyway. Nothing except whether or not I reach, grab, place, consume that bit of once wondrous magic that now turns to poison the minute it mixes with my blood. That poison that so long ago was my gateway out of social hell. My savior. My salvation from shyness, from ugliness, from humiliation, from being less than. It gave me strength and courage to be all that I lacked, to join the illusion, the chain of networks that measure us and rate us and draw from their own experiences and try to make them ours.
Pacing, voices, loneliness, purging, crying, bargaining, praying, begging, screaming, accepting.
Yes, I'll sleep. If I can stop the thoughts of wanting. Wanting more. More is never enough.
Morning.
Wake up and re-live the nightmare. Do it again.
Do it until the poison is out of the blood.
Do it until I can breath again without thinking about it.
Do it until the shaking and sweats go away.
Because they will. I know they will. They say they will and I believe. I can no longer trust the illusion.
And when they do, when my body stops retaliating for not giving it what I said was good for so many years, and I am calm and there is peace and the cravings stop, what residuals will I find from all this hard work known as "detox?"..
Life
Unveiled, Uncensored, Raw and Real.
In my face and mine to decide how to react to it because for so many years the poison did all the reacting for me.
Enough
I had enough and am tired of living in the mist of a fog laden and a no-way-there's-a-happy ending fairytale.
Enough
I never have to do this again.
Tick, tock, second by second, minute by minute, hours in a day,
a day in a week and a week in a month and then...
Happy Anniversary. Breathe.
Jun 11, 2011
Weekends
oh the streets are so busy
metal speeding down the pathway
to only they know where
work
friends
appointments
shopping
work
why so fast?
maybe, like i, they wait to
the last minute
to get on the fast track
savoring every moment of sleep
before they have to get up
and put on the jump suit
mario andretti school of driving
it seems
weekends
the time of living in the real world
with real people
not robots
cattle
ahh, yes, me like me some weekends
metal speeding down the pathway
to only they know where
work
friends
appointments
shopping
work
why so fast?
maybe, like i, they wait to
the last minute
to get on the fast track
savoring every moment of sleep
before they have to get up
and put on the jump suit
mario andretti school of driving
it seems
weekends
the time of living in the real world
with real people
not robots
cattle
ahh, yes, me like me some weekends
Jun 6, 2011
Thought Deflection
I just need to take a moment to reflect
to write
therapy
thought deflection
I can't seem to get the worry out of my body,
perpetuated by my obsessive thinking of what my daughter is
going through right now.
I remember when she was in the hospital, so, so
long ago. She was just sixteen years old.
A terrible car accident put her there.
Put her in a coma,
broken, fragile, unconscious, lifeless
Her mother and I spending every possible
moment with her
wondering
worried
crying
foggy
should we plan for the worst?
no, that was unfathomable
no, that is not part of the plan
it was the most scared i've ever been
we will never forget
but we do heal, did heal
she healed
Although she is not going through quite
the same event with her own daughter now
her precious, beautiful five year old
who needs open heart surgery
she goes through the same emotions
the same worries
the fear of the unknown
her baby is sick
that's all she knows
her baby will be hurting
that's all she fears
we knew she was in good hands some
fourteen years ago
and her little girl will be in good hands as
well this week
that doesn't always comfort us enough though
this i know
if she could just feel the trust we most certainly CAN trust
that just like her, her baby will be absolutely fine
know it
believe it
draw on all the powerful, positive
energy that our God gives us through
the bonds we have in family and friends
if she could just feel that
feel it from me
her Mother
her siblings
God works through us, honey
if she could
but i know that's hard
i've been there
so, i'll be that for her
we'll be that for her
all of us
all that care
care enough to say a prayer
care
caring
caring enough
caring is enough
all that matters is our collective thoughts
sending nothing but caring
her way, and her baby's way
and so it is
to write
therapy
thought deflection
I can't seem to get the worry out of my body,
perpetuated by my obsessive thinking of what my daughter is
going through right now.
I remember when she was in the hospital, so, so
long ago. She was just sixteen years old.
A terrible car accident put her there.
Put her in a coma,
broken, fragile, unconscious, lifeless
Her mother and I spending every possible
moment with her
wondering
worried
crying
foggy
should we plan for the worst?
no, that was unfathomable
no, that is not part of the plan
it was the most scared i've ever been
we will never forget
but we do heal, did heal
she healed
Although she is not going through quite
the same event with her own daughter now
her precious, beautiful five year old
who needs open heart surgery
she goes through the same emotions
the same worries
the fear of the unknown
her baby is sick
that's all she knows
her baby will be hurting
that's all she fears
we knew she was in good hands some
fourteen years ago
and her little girl will be in good hands as
well this week
that doesn't always comfort us enough though
this i know
if she could just feel the trust we most certainly CAN trust
that just like her, her baby will be absolutely fine
know it
believe it
draw on all the powerful, positive
energy that our God gives us through
the bonds we have in family and friends
if she could just feel that
feel it from me
her Mother
her siblings
God works through us, honey
if she could
but i know that's hard
i've been there
so, i'll be that for her
we'll be that for her
all of us
all that care
care enough to say a prayer
care
caring
caring enough
caring is enough
all that matters is our collective thoughts
sending nothing but caring
her way, and her baby's way
and so it is
May 29, 2011
m.o.j.o
mojo. i looked it up on google.
i've been feeling like i lost it
without really knowing what "it" was.
i've heard that word used several different ways
and, based on that, figured i once had it.
now i don't.
2008
most painful personal growth struggle
period in my life to-date
i got to practice everything i preached during that time
and didn't do a very good job.
the first thing to go then was my job
then my precious four legged felines
then my credit
then my house
then my mojo
i thought that once i got back on my feet
all those ambitions and beliefs and outlooks
would come back
they have not.
i'm going through the motions.
i learned a very important lesson,
in my don't-be-a-drunk circle,
that you need to "fake it til you make it."
that's what i'm doing
truth be known, now that i'm working again,
now that i'm back in the rat race,
the race that built my american dream
and then took it away,
the race that i thought i wanted to be in,
train for, dream about, brag about...
"look at me, aren't i so awesome?"
that race
i miss all the free time to write.
i don't write anymore
im back in the race
tired, unprepared, un-enthused
making ends meet
mojo
google got it wrong.
my interpretation:
Move Over, Journey On
in other words:
i need to get out of my own way
quit making excuses
fake it til you make if you must
the race is not a real race
stop. sit. relax. breathe. write.
i feel better already.
i've been feeling like i lost it
without really knowing what "it" was.
i've heard that word used several different ways
and, based on that, figured i once had it.
now i don't.
2008
most painful personal growth struggle
period in my life to-date
i got to practice everything i preached during that time
and didn't do a very good job.
the first thing to go then was my job
then my precious four legged felines
then my credit
then my house
then my mojo
i thought that once i got back on my feet
all those ambitions and beliefs and outlooks
would come back
they have not.
i'm going through the motions.
i learned a very important lesson,
in my don't-be-a-drunk circle,
that you need to "fake it til you make it."
that's what i'm doing
truth be known, now that i'm working again,
now that i'm back in the rat race,
the race that built my american dream
and then took it away,
the race that i thought i wanted to be in,
train for, dream about, brag about...
"look at me, aren't i so awesome?"
that race
i miss all the free time to write.
i don't write anymore
im back in the race
tired, unprepared, un-enthused
making ends meet
mojo
google got it wrong.
my interpretation:
Move Over, Journey On
in other words:
i need to get out of my own way
quit making excuses
fake it til you make if you must
the race is not a real race
stop. sit. relax. breathe. write.
i feel better already.
Mar 26, 2011
IRS and a trash can
Friday, 12:35pm
my son calls me at work this afternoon in a panic.
"do you know where my income tax check is?"
??????
immediately, before i answer,
because i don't know how to answer,
i rummage through my mind.
nothing.
"what do you mean?" I asked.
i know what he means
i needed more time to think
i had this sick feeling that i
had something to do with his distress.
then it hit me. i cleaned!
dammit! i cleaned again!
my turn to panic.
"my IRS check!" he replied.
"where was it?" I asked, stalling.
it was on the table...i knew that.
more stalling questions, "did you take it out of the envelope?"
i know he didn't, otherwise he would not be calling.
he tells me, "noooo, i was waiting until i cashed it."
i def know where it's at.
hurry, quick! go on the defense!
yell at him for not taking the check
out of the envelope!
scream at him for being irresponsible
for leaving it laying around on the table for seven days!
i knew he didn't cash it right away.
he is not one that likes to race to the bank
or race anywhere. he likes to take his time and
plan everything, plan every move, every decision with care
and precision.
i'm the same way. i just call it procrastination.
i don't yell at him. i give in. it's my fault.
"it's in the garbage can", i tell him, and wait
for the melt down.
I remember cleaning up the table and saw the torn open envelope with
"united states treasury" written in the upper
left hand corner. i was certain he removed the check and
didn't give it a second thought. it's money, right?
who leaves money laying around?
well, the melt down didn't happen but, needless to say,
he was not happy. i could tell by his seemingly
forced silence.
i told him to just "look in the trash can" and get it out.
he said, "is there food in it? with a gruff tone, appalled
that i would suggest such a thing.
"yes," i said, "IT'S a GARBAGE can, just look!
he didn't look. i knew he wouldn't. the thought of touching
leftovers from the past two days (which there weren't many
since i'm an avid recycler and routine user of my garbage disposal)
was more than he could handle.
he convinced me that i took that bag of garbage out Wednesday
night. trash day was Thursday.
i bought it.
i contacted IRS.
got the information i needed.
prepared to go through the red tape to get him
a replacement check.
even offered to give him the money until the new
check came in. he politely declined.
said he could wait...it was just going into his savings account.
good little saver he is.
later that night he left for his girlfriends house.
i headed to the computer to start the
process of redeeming myself.
but...wait...i KNOW i didn't throw that bag away.
i checked.
pulled out all the fermenting and decaying fruit, wing
bones, coffee grounds, lettuce leaves, snot rags (Kleenex)
and Clorox wipes until i reached the very bottom.
a check. it might not smell very good but it's still worth the same.
the moral of the story? be sure to check the inside of someone else's
envelopes before you throw them away.
wait. no, it's this: take care of your damn check, son!
I just love that boy!
my son calls me at work this afternoon in a panic.
"do you know where my income tax check is?"
??????
immediately, before i answer,
because i don't know how to answer,
i rummage through my mind.
nothing.
"what do you mean?" I asked.
i know what he means
i needed more time to think
i had this sick feeling that i
had something to do with his distress.
then it hit me. i cleaned!
dammit! i cleaned again!
my turn to panic.
"my IRS check!" he replied.
"where was it?" I asked, stalling.
it was on the table...i knew that.
more stalling questions, "did you take it out of the envelope?"
i know he didn't, otherwise he would not be calling.
he tells me, "noooo, i was waiting until i cashed it."
i def know where it's at.
hurry, quick! go on the defense!
yell at him for not taking the check
out of the envelope!
scream at him for being irresponsible
for leaving it laying around on the table for seven days!
i knew he didn't cash it right away.
he is not one that likes to race to the bank
or race anywhere. he likes to take his time and
plan everything, plan every move, every decision with care
and precision.
i'm the same way. i just call it procrastination.
i don't yell at him. i give in. it's my fault.
"it's in the garbage can", i tell him, and wait
for the melt down.
I remember cleaning up the table and saw the torn open envelope with
"united states treasury" written in the upper
left hand corner. i was certain he removed the check and
didn't give it a second thought. it's money, right?
who leaves money laying around?
well, the melt down didn't happen but, needless to say,
he was not happy. i could tell by his seemingly
forced silence.
i told him to just "look in the trash can" and get it out.
he said, "is there food in it? with a gruff tone, appalled
that i would suggest such a thing.
"yes," i said, "IT'S a GARBAGE can, just look!
he didn't look. i knew he wouldn't. the thought of touching
leftovers from the past two days (which there weren't many
since i'm an avid recycler and routine user of my garbage disposal)
was more than he could handle.
he convinced me that i took that bag of garbage out Wednesday
night. trash day was Thursday.
i bought it.
i contacted IRS.
got the information i needed.
prepared to go through the red tape to get him
a replacement check.
even offered to give him the money until the new
check came in. he politely declined.
said he could wait...it was just going into his savings account.
good little saver he is.
later that night he left for his girlfriends house.
i headed to the computer to start the
process of redeeming myself.
but...wait...i KNOW i didn't throw that bag away.
i checked.
pulled out all the fermenting and decaying fruit, wing
bones, coffee grounds, lettuce leaves, snot rags (Kleenex)
and Clorox wipes until i reached the very bottom.
a check. it might not smell very good but it's still worth the same.
the moral of the story? be sure to check the inside of someone else's
envelopes before you throw them away.
wait. no, it's this: take care of your damn check, son!
I just love that boy!
Mar 18, 2011
time for a 180
sometimes i don't think twice before i speak once
i preach
because i have experience
because i'm invited in to give my side
sometimes i give it...away
only to have it come back to bite me in the ass
parents shouldn't get involved with their adult children's drama
we forgive faster than they do
i know
because i have experience
can't stand the pain in their voice and in their cries
so i give it...away
then speak when not asked because i thought i was invited
when i was not
invitation lost in the mail
but i showed up anyway
turns out i wasn't on the guest list after all
friends should know when their status went from
"bestie" to "oldie" to "acquaintance" to "memory"
lost that note in the mail too
friends really aren't so judgemental
parents are though, that's our job you know
because we fear
because we have experience
relationships get messy real fast
when you show up, unknowingly, uninvited
should have just bowed out gracefully and quietly
but the hurt gets the best of us sometimes
did a 360 from years ago when i didn't know about the
"do not participate" golden rule
time for a 180
i preach
because i have experience
because i'm invited in to give my side
sometimes i give it...away
only to have it come back to bite me in the ass
parents shouldn't get involved with their adult children's drama
we forgive faster than they do
i know
because i have experience
can't stand the pain in their voice and in their cries
so i give it...away
then speak when not asked because i thought i was invited
when i was not
invitation lost in the mail
but i showed up anyway
turns out i wasn't on the guest list after all
friends should know when their status went from
"bestie" to "oldie" to "acquaintance" to "memory"
lost that note in the mail too
friends really aren't so judgemental
parents are though, that's our job you know
because we fear
because we have experience
relationships get messy real fast
when you show up, unknowingly, uninvited
should have just bowed out gracefully and quietly
but the hurt gets the best of us sometimes
did a 360 from years ago when i didn't know about the
"do not participate" golden rule
time for a 180
Feb 27, 2011
sometimes I don't have the words to speak
I stole this from FB cuz I really like it and
was looking for words of wisdom.
Lots of negative energy moving about
trying to align with the positive.
winter, not just physically a cold time,
and too much of it really plays
a toll on a lot of people, including me.
i want to help, but i can't help all so...
this is what i want to share...
for you
for me:
was looking for words of wisdom.
Lots of negative energy moving about
trying to align with the positive.
winter, not just physically a cold time,
and too much of it really plays
a toll on a lot of people, including me.
i want to help, but i can't help all so...
this is what i want to share...
for you
for me:
Feb 19, 2011
no news is good news
when i finally got back to work from
my two year unplanned hiatus
i got addicted to NPR talk radio and
other news channels.
my commute to and from work is really
long and this helped pass the time
exciting stuff, eh?
i thought so
i don't know why i didn't listen to music,
just had a craving to hear people talk,
and talk...
and then talk some more
about nothing and about everything.
they discussed what's happening around the world
in Afghanistan, China, Greece, Egypt and about our own
government's petty squabbling, and their opinion of it
news
mostly bad
because i'm a hopeless liberal,
humanitarian and philanthropist,
drawn and concerned about every one's well being,
both physical and cyber, i'm easily engrossed.
so i listened,
and then listened some more.
bad idea
something began to feel very wrong.
me.
out of balance
out of harmony
out of steam
as the months went on and i continued to listen
as they talked
they on the radio
hour after hour
i slowly felt myself becoming more and more depressed
heavy, listless, forcing just enough energy from my
cells to get through the day and earn my paycheck
by the time the weekend finally showed up,
arriving at the speed of a turtle,
and not the baby newborn turtle speed,
you know, the ones that zoom across the sand in
an attempt to make it to the ocean before something
eats them? not those turtles. the big tortoise turtles speed.
anyway, the weekend took its sweet ass getting here
and when it did, i was toast
neurons not sparking too well and mentally ill.
and i couldn't figure out why.
Saturday became a rejuvenate day
(unless i had something planned for that day too,
or planned for me)
by Sunday evening i felt refreshed again and
motivated to clean the house or maybe do some writing
but it was Sunday.
which meant the next day was Monday.
and i would repeat the routine all over again.
news
mostly bad
i blamed the weather for my not feeling right
seasonal depression
took melatonin, and calcium and vitamin D
nothing was making me feel better
enough!
i don't know what hit me or what got my attention
to say, "enough!"
but i did say it
i needed help and got it
i remembered some of my spiritual tools
and what i learned from some great teachers
of the past and present...just like that
what you think is what you get, i recalled
kind of like "you are what you eat" sort of thing
i turned the radio off
i turned Facebook off
i put in some CD's of one of my favorite spiritual teachers
and became new
i got my energy back
my smile back
my clarity back
i stopped the infection
by not participating in the negative
(something i preach about all the time)
i did return to Facebook
because a few friends asked me too
but i monitor my intake, my output
and even removed a few habitual downers
i feel better now. much better
and with the dawning of spring
and the sunshine that will ensue
i'll feel even better than better
no news is good news
indeed
my two year unplanned hiatus
i got addicted to NPR talk radio and
other news channels.
my commute to and from work is really
long and this helped pass the time
exciting stuff, eh?
i thought so
i don't know why i didn't listen to music,
just had a craving to hear people talk,
and talk...
and then talk some more
about nothing and about everything.
they discussed what's happening around the world
in Afghanistan, China, Greece, Egypt and about our own
government's petty squabbling, and their opinion of it
news
mostly bad
because i'm a hopeless liberal,
humanitarian and philanthropist,
drawn and concerned about every one's well being,
both physical and cyber, i'm easily engrossed.
so i listened,
and then listened some more.
bad idea
something began to feel very wrong.
me.
out of balance
out of harmony
out of steam
as the months went on and i continued to listen
as they talked
they on the radio
hour after hour
i slowly felt myself becoming more and more depressed
heavy, listless, forcing just enough energy from my
cells to get through the day and earn my paycheck
by the time the weekend finally showed up,
arriving at the speed of a turtle,
and not the baby newborn turtle speed,
you know, the ones that zoom across the sand in
an attempt to make it to the ocean before something
eats them? not those turtles. the big tortoise turtles speed.
anyway, the weekend took its sweet ass getting here
and when it did, i was toast
neurons not sparking too well and mentally ill.
and i couldn't figure out why.
Saturday became a rejuvenate day
(unless i had something planned for that day too,
or planned for me)
by Sunday evening i felt refreshed again and
motivated to clean the house or maybe do some writing
but it was Sunday.
which meant the next day was Monday.
and i would repeat the routine all over again.
news
mostly bad
i blamed the weather for my not feeling right
seasonal depression
took melatonin, and calcium and vitamin D
nothing was making me feel better
enough!
i don't know what hit me or what got my attention
to say, "enough!"
but i did say it
i needed help and got it
i remembered some of my spiritual tools
and what i learned from some great teachers
of the past and present...just like that
what you think is what you get, i recalled
kind of like "you are what you eat" sort of thing
i turned the radio off
i turned Facebook off
i put in some CD's of one of my favorite spiritual teachers
and became new
i got my energy back
my smile back
my clarity back
i stopped the infection
by not participating in the negative
(something i preach about all the time)
i did return to Facebook
because a few friends asked me too
but i monitor my intake, my output
and even removed a few habitual downers
i feel better now. much better
and with the dawning of spring
and the sunshine that will ensue
i'll feel even better than better
no news is good news
indeed
Feb 12, 2011
whirling and swirling little dust storms
i heard people say they wished life came with
an instruction manual
or, "if i knew then what i know now"
searching, searching, searching
instead of
accepting, accepting, accepting
life does come with an instruction manual, people
you just gotta make up your mind which one
you want to read or rely on
...and you don't have to pick just one
some call the manual the Bible
some call it the Torah
or the Quran
or the teachings of Dr. Wayne Dyer,
the Buda, your parents, your children,
the Big Book, Ellen DeGeneres, Emily Dickinson, Eminem....
i think you get it
all the influences around us
all that we innately feel (gut)
all the people we encounter
all the education we've received
all this information filling up our brain
and redirecting our emotions
on a daily basis
your manual is the past
because everything you hear or
read or believe is from the past
developed from life experiences
good or bad
change happens all the time
with each day, each hour, each second
sometimes I feel like i'm in the middle of
these whirling and swirling little dust storms
with the debris and dust blinding my eyes
forcing me to keep them shut because all
that crap hurts
move
find protection
remember my manual(s)...
i rely on them all to navigate me
to give me choices of what fits
in my life and what doesn't
my life is not yours
that's why it's called "my" life
but your life, and there are MANY of you,
forms who i am today
your manuals are my manuals
and when i decide that the little dust storms
pricking my skin are just too uncomfortable and annoying,
reducing my sight,
i know that someone, somewhere, wrote instructions
on how to get out of them
life does come with a manual
it's titled: "change; a life of love, wisdom, acceptance and time"
now go tackle those dust storms!
an instruction manual
or, "if i knew then what i know now"
searching, searching, searching
instead of
accepting, accepting, accepting
life does come with an instruction manual, people
you just gotta make up your mind which one
you want to read or rely on
...and you don't have to pick just one
some call the manual the Bible
some call it the Torah
or the Quran
or the teachings of Dr. Wayne Dyer,
the Buda, your parents, your children,
the Big Book, Ellen DeGeneres, Emily Dickinson, Eminem....
i think you get it
all the influences around us
all that we innately feel (gut)
all the people we encounter
all the education we've received
all this information filling up our brain
and redirecting our emotions
on a daily basis
your manual is the past
because everything you hear or
read or believe is from the past
developed from life experiences
good or bad
change happens all the time
with each day, each hour, each second
sometimes I feel like i'm in the middle of
these whirling and swirling little dust storms
with the debris and dust blinding my eyes
forcing me to keep them shut because all
that crap hurts
move
find protection
remember my manual(s)...
i rely on them all to navigate me
to give me choices of what fits
in my life and what doesn't
my life is not yours
that's why it's called "my" life
but your life, and there are MANY of you,
forms who i am today
your manuals are my manuals
and when i decide that the little dust storms
pricking my skin are just too uncomfortable and annoying,
reducing my sight,
i know that someone, somewhere, wrote instructions
on how to get out of them
life does come with a manual
it's titled: "change; a life of love, wisdom, acceptance and time"
now go tackle those dust storms!
Feb 5, 2011
girl on the corner
I had so many things to do this particular mid-November day: get college transcripts for new job, apply for my diploma (finally), get groceries and then refill three water jugs. Rush, rush, rush, because I wait 'til the last damn minute to do anything. What is so important at my house that I can't leave it in order to get my chores done early? It's like there is some magnetic field holding me down; as if the center of gravity, the origin, the spinning core that creates it, lives within my four walls.
Anyway, I was driving to the water store, and at the intersection of Dort Highway and Court St, I noticed a girl, a young woman, standing on the corner in the distance holding a sign. The traffic light turned red and when I stopped I was able to read the sign: "Woman/Mother/Student needing help. Will work for food." That's how it was written. What was interesting to me is that I've never seen a woman doing this "will work for food" bit. I'm not stereotyping, I'm speaking from experience. I've only ever seen men. Men with scruffy beards, unruly hair, tattered clothing, a few missing teeth and appearing to be in need of a bath. On many occasions I've taken the time to roll down my window and hand them whatever bills I thought I should give them or had available to give them. This is not unlike me to do. But this person, this "beggar," was different from my "norm."
I would say, given the short amount of time I had to assess her before the traffic light turned green, that she was probably 23, 24 years old. She wore a Fargo winter hat---you know, the kind that covers your ears and has tassels hanging from each side---mittens, a mid-drift coat with a fur lined over sized hood, stylish jeans and running shoes. She was dressed very warm and did not appear unkempt in the least. Appearances aren't everything though but if she was doing this as a scam my advice to her would be to dumb it down a bit; look the part. My curiosity was in full swing.
I continued on to the water store and completed that task. I still had to go to the college but already made up my mind at the traffic light that I was going to return and talk to the girl on the corner. I didn't quite know what I was going to say and certainly a little uncomfortable with how she may respond. Was she crazy? Would she become incensed with my questioning? Was I crazy? I didn't care. I was being pulled to her, to know her story...and I didn't know why. I made the turn off Dort and onto Court St. and then parked my car in the lot of the dollar store close to where she occupied a space beneath a street light. It was a very busy intersection and she stood just a few feet off the curb. I got out of my car and approached her. She didn't acknowledge me until I said, "hello."
"Hi," she said, turning to face me. She didn't seem surprised nor apprehensive that a total stranger was coming near her. She even smiled a sheepish yet almost thankful smile.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" I inquired. "You don't have to answer but I'm really curious as to what brings you to this corner. I've never seen a young person such as yourself do this. I'm not here to judge, I was just drawn to what your story is." I continued, feeling a bit nervous now that I was actually doing this.
She lowered her large sign, cut out from a cardboard box, and moved a piece of her long brunette hair off her face. "Not at all," she struggled to say, her lips slightly restricted, frozen from the cold and unabated wind unmercifully delivered by Michigan's winter weather. Who knows how long she's been out here.
"Aren't you scared to be out here?"
"Yes, I am. But I have an 18 month old son to take care of and I can't find work. Out of desperation, I started begging. I also go to college."
"Don't you have family that can help you?"
"My Mom got me an apartment. It's small but it's what she can afford. She lives with her boyfriend and he doesn't want me and my son there. My boyfriend was cheating the state out of money and got caught. I didn't know he was doing it but now I can't get Welfare either. We're not together anymore so, well, he's not going to help."
"My name is Diane. Do you mind telling me yours?" I asked.
"Michelle. My name is Michelle." she responded, lowering her eyes to look away.
"People have been really nice to me here," she continued. "They've given me tips on where to go to get help and even potential jobs. I don't have a car but I can take the bus. So far, all the offers are way too far and I don't have anyone to watch my son."
"How do you get to college? I noticed you wrote "student" on your sign."
"I take the bus. My Mom will watch my son while I'm in school. She does that for me but not more. She has her own troubles."
The sun was beginning to set about this time and I began to shiver from the cold wind penetrating my light weight coat. I wanted to learn so much from this young lady and I definitely wanted to help. I just didn't know why or how. I didn't know if she was lying or not. I didn't know if this was a scam or she was really this desperate. I knew desperate...but not like this. Even if it is just a scam, what kind of person does it take to risk their young, beautiful life by standing on a dangerous corner in Flint, Michigan, to beg. Either way, the words she spoke and the words she didn't speak got my attention. I had not been back to work myself for very long so I didn't have a lot of money. I did have a $20 bill in my pocket which I knew I wanted to give to her. And so I did. She said "thank you so much" in the sweetest voice. I could see tears in her eyes, or maybe they were just watery from the sting of the cold night. Nonetheless, she seemed to appreciate it and that was good enough for me.
"Thank you for taking the time to tell me your story." I said after handing her the money. "You take care of yourself, Michelle."
"You too, Diane." she replied, with that same sheepish smile she greeted me with.
I turned around and got back into my car. She had already turned away and was accepting another hand out from a vehicle offering it at the red traffic light.
I drove away with more questions than I had before I stopped. But I would have to answer them myself. These situations, and worse, are everywhere...and that makes me sad.
On my way to work, just the other day, at the corner of Telegraph Rd and Ford Rd, I saw a young lady, with College style attire holding a big cardboard sign that said "Will work for Food." I didn't stop.
Anyway, I was driving to the water store, and at the intersection of Dort Highway and Court St, I noticed a girl, a young woman, standing on the corner in the distance holding a sign. The traffic light turned red and when I stopped I was able to read the sign: "Woman/Mother/Student needing help. Will work for food." That's how it was written. What was interesting to me is that I've never seen a woman doing this "will work for food" bit. I'm not stereotyping, I'm speaking from experience. I've only ever seen men. Men with scruffy beards, unruly hair, tattered clothing, a few missing teeth and appearing to be in need of a bath. On many occasions I've taken the time to roll down my window and hand them whatever bills I thought I should give them or had available to give them. This is not unlike me to do. But this person, this "beggar," was different from my "norm."
I would say, given the short amount of time I had to assess her before the traffic light turned green, that she was probably 23, 24 years old. She wore a Fargo winter hat---you know, the kind that covers your ears and has tassels hanging from each side---mittens, a mid-drift coat with a fur lined over sized hood, stylish jeans and running shoes. She was dressed very warm and did not appear unkempt in the least. Appearances aren't everything though but if she was doing this as a scam my advice to her would be to dumb it down a bit; look the part. My curiosity was in full swing.
I continued on to the water store and completed that task. I still had to go to the college but already made up my mind at the traffic light that I was going to return and talk to the girl on the corner. I didn't quite know what I was going to say and certainly a little uncomfortable with how she may respond. Was she crazy? Would she become incensed with my questioning? Was I crazy? I didn't care. I was being pulled to her, to know her story...and I didn't know why. I made the turn off Dort and onto Court St. and then parked my car in the lot of the dollar store close to where she occupied a space beneath a street light. It was a very busy intersection and she stood just a few feet off the curb. I got out of my car and approached her. She didn't acknowledge me until I said, "hello."
"Hi," she said, turning to face me. She didn't seem surprised nor apprehensive that a total stranger was coming near her. She even smiled a sheepish yet almost thankful smile.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" I inquired. "You don't have to answer but I'm really curious as to what brings you to this corner. I've never seen a young person such as yourself do this. I'm not here to judge, I was just drawn to what your story is." I continued, feeling a bit nervous now that I was actually doing this.
She lowered her large sign, cut out from a cardboard box, and moved a piece of her long brunette hair off her face. "Not at all," she struggled to say, her lips slightly restricted, frozen from the cold and unabated wind unmercifully delivered by Michigan's winter weather. Who knows how long she's been out here.
"Aren't you scared to be out here?"
"Yes, I am. But I have an 18 month old son to take care of and I can't find work. Out of desperation, I started begging. I also go to college."
"Don't you have family that can help you?"
"My Mom got me an apartment. It's small but it's what she can afford. She lives with her boyfriend and he doesn't want me and my son there. My boyfriend was cheating the state out of money and got caught. I didn't know he was doing it but now I can't get Welfare either. We're not together anymore so, well, he's not going to help."
"My name is Diane. Do you mind telling me yours?" I asked.
"Michelle. My name is Michelle." she responded, lowering her eyes to look away.
"People have been really nice to me here," she continued. "They've given me tips on where to go to get help and even potential jobs. I don't have a car but I can take the bus. So far, all the offers are way too far and I don't have anyone to watch my son."
"How do you get to college? I noticed you wrote "student" on your sign."
"I take the bus. My Mom will watch my son while I'm in school. She does that for me but not more. She has her own troubles."
The sun was beginning to set about this time and I began to shiver from the cold wind penetrating my light weight coat. I wanted to learn so much from this young lady and I definitely wanted to help. I just didn't know why or how. I didn't know if she was lying or not. I didn't know if this was a scam or she was really this desperate. I knew desperate...but not like this. Even if it is just a scam, what kind of person does it take to risk their young, beautiful life by standing on a dangerous corner in Flint, Michigan, to beg. Either way, the words she spoke and the words she didn't speak got my attention. I had not been back to work myself for very long so I didn't have a lot of money. I did have a $20 bill in my pocket which I knew I wanted to give to her. And so I did. She said "thank you so much" in the sweetest voice. I could see tears in her eyes, or maybe they were just watery from the sting of the cold night. Nonetheless, she seemed to appreciate it and that was good enough for me.
"Thank you for taking the time to tell me your story." I said after handing her the money. "You take care of yourself, Michelle."
"You too, Diane." she replied, with that same sheepish smile she greeted me with.
I turned around and got back into my car. She had already turned away and was accepting another hand out from a vehicle offering it at the red traffic light.
I drove away with more questions than I had before I stopped. But I would have to answer them myself. These situations, and worse, are everywhere...and that makes me sad.
On my way to work, just the other day, at the corner of Telegraph Rd and Ford Rd, I saw a young lady, with College style attire holding a big cardboard sign that said "Will work for Food." I didn't stop.
Jan 22, 2011
a princess and her soldier
we think that fairy tales only exist in animated movies
or quirky films. but in truth, they are most likely inspired by
real life events and experiences
i'll never be a proponent of war or violence for
violence never solves anything. ever.
but...i understand why young men and woman go
in to the military as i understand passion, dreams and having goals.
i, myself, cannot function without them. and i understand that a military
is necessary on so many levels that could not possibly be covered in any
number of philosophy classes.
still, my son, daughter, niece, nephew, brother, sister, or friend, in
the service does not resonate as a memory i would choose to make part
of my story. however, it happens. and when it does, i support them...
and pray for them.
why am i talking about this? because my nephew is leaving for the Marines
within the next 24 hours. i am both worried and very proud. whatever his
reasons for doing so, there is no turning back now. just before he boards
that plane for California, he will have at his side, saying good bye to him, his
3 year old daughter, Layla (they call her "Love").
3 year olds are not dumb. oh, no. they are very intuitive, smart and resilient to
say the least. I ask her Grandmother (my sister) if Layla's Mommy and Daddy
talked to her about him leaving for long periods at a time and, if so, how she
processed the information she received. after all, she loves her Daddy like no
other. just look at the photos on his social network page and you can see.
she told me, "yes, they did. Layla tells everyone now that her 'Daddy is going
to be a soldier and I am going to be his Princess.'
tears welled in my eyes
a fairy tale at its roots
a love story unfolding
yes, he may be going off to be a soldier, but i think him to be more like a
champion. i know in my heart that little girl will always truly be his Princess.
his Princess by choice, by conviction, by pure and natural love. because,
you see, he doesn't have to stay connected to her, but he wants to.
he loves his Love. in my book, he is a very special Daddy and a very special soldier.
i was born a child of God
i was born to be a great man
i was born to become a Marine...
but most of all, i was born through the eyes of my Princess
Thank you, Kyle, for protecting our country and your daughter.
or quirky films. but in truth, they are most likely inspired by
real life events and experiences
i'll never be a proponent of war or violence for
violence never solves anything. ever.
but...i understand why young men and woman go
in to the military as i understand passion, dreams and having goals.
i, myself, cannot function without them. and i understand that a military
is necessary on so many levels that could not possibly be covered in any
number of philosophy classes.
still, my son, daughter, niece, nephew, brother, sister, or friend, in
the service does not resonate as a memory i would choose to make part
of my story. however, it happens. and when it does, i support them...
and pray for them.
why am i talking about this? because my nephew is leaving for the Marines
within the next 24 hours. i am both worried and very proud. whatever his
reasons for doing so, there is no turning back now. just before he boards
that plane for California, he will have at his side, saying good bye to him, his
3 year old daughter, Layla (they call her "Love").
3 year olds are not dumb. oh, no. they are very intuitive, smart and resilient to
say the least. I ask her Grandmother (my sister) if Layla's Mommy and Daddy
talked to her about him leaving for long periods at a time and, if so, how she
processed the information she received. after all, she loves her Daddy like no
other. just look at the photos on his social network page and you can see.
she told me, "yes, they did. Layla tells everyone now that her 'Daddy is going
to be a soldier and I am going to be his Princess.'
tears welled in my eyes
a fairy tale at its roots
a love story unfolding
yes, he may be going off to be a soldier, but i think him to be more like a
champion. i know in my heart that little girl will always truly be his Princess.
his Princess by choice, by conviction, by pure and natural love. because,
you see, he doesn't have to stay connected to her, but he wants to.
he loves his Love. in my book, he is a very special Daddy and a very special soldier.
i was born a child of Godi was born to be a great man
i was born to become a Marine...
but most of all, i was born through the eyes of my Princess
Thank you, Kyle, for protecting our country and your daughter.
Jan 15, 2011
Ricky's Song
In a flash
Time has passed
I'm still standing in this place
I can't see you
I can't see me
We're wearing a different face
I didn't know what i was looking for
I thought if i could just keep moving
It would come to me
Reality fades into a stream
Of broken promises
And broken dreams
But when i wake up
Each morning next to you
I'm reminded while you sleep
That nothings really changed
My love for you remains
But I'm still not where i want to be
I wouldn't have it any other way
My journey without you
Just wouldn't be the same
And although i seek a different path
One that fuels my soul
And drives my heart to beat so fast
I wouldn't have it any other way
My journey without you
Just wouldn't be the same
Time takes on a different role
As we pass through and the
Days become old
I want you to be with me
Cause I'm not free without you
On this I'm sold
I've got things i need to do
Its driving me crazy
Its driving me home
To the place where i know
I can live my dreams
On the same playing ground as reality
But when i wake up
Each morning next to you
I'm reminded while you sleep
That nothings really changed
My love for you remains
But I'm still not where i want to be
Time has passed
I'm still standing in this place
I can't see you
I can't see me
We're wearing a different face
I didn't know what i was looking for
I thought if i could just keep moving
It would come to me
Reality fades into a stream
Of broken promises
And broken dreams
But when i wake up
Each morning next to you
I'm reminded while you sleep
That nothings really changed
My love for you remains
But I'm still not where i want to be
I wouldn't have it any other way
My journey without you
Just wouldn't be the same
And although i seek a different path
One that fuels my soul
And drives my heart to beat so fast
I wouldn't have it any other way
My journey without you
Just wouldn't be the same
Time takes on a different role
As we pass through and the
Days become old
I want you to be with me
Cause I'm not free without you
On this I'm sold
I've got things i need to do
Its driving me crazy
Its driving me home
To the place where i know
I can live my dreams
On the same playing ground as reality
But when i wake up
Each morning next to you
I'm reminded while you sleep
That nothings really changed
My love for you remains
But I'm still not where i want to be
Jan 7, 2011
avoid the mirrors
each day i look in the mirror i see a changing person
a girl
now a woman
a middle aged woman
as i watch my jowls chase my neck
and my ear lobes following suit
i realize how much time has really passed
since i was that scared little girl
trying to find my place
somewhere i fit in
whoosh, 40 years later
i don't feel old
until i look in that mirror
but i also see in all the lines
the cracks and crevices
the not suitable for bikinis anymore body...
accomplishment
sacrifices
victories
loss
compassion
hardships
blessings
and love
i always thought i would be afraid to grow old
but now i realize that its not age i was afraid of
but failure instead
something deeply embedded in me
failure was not an option
i know better today
for without failure
there would be no accomplishments
no victories
no loss
no self worth
and no love
for what would we use to measure these
things
measure growth
measure maturity
how would we be able to be humble
and grateful
all these emotions and marks of life
would be meaningless
for their is only one place for perfection
that place is not earth
but heaven
earth is just the ride, the journey, the path
we choose to participate in just for the heck of it
there is only one purpose of life...
to seek joy
and when we find trouble
discouragement
depression
fault
in ourselves and others
it is a reminder that we have veered off our path of joy
it's time to get back on track
again
and keep getting back on
until the day perfection is ours
seek joy
trust in your higher power
trust in yourself
avoid the mirrors
a girl
now a woman
a middle aged woman
as i watch my jowls chase my neck
and my ear lobes following suit
i realize how much time has really passed
since i was that scared little girl
trying to find my place
somewhere i fit in
whoosh, 40 years later
i don't feel old
until i look in that mirror
but i also see in all the lines
the cracks and crevices
the not suitable for bikinis anymore body...
accomplishment
sacrifices
victories
loss
compassion
hardships
blessings
and love
i always thought i would be afraid to grow old
but now i realize that its not age i was afraid of
but failure instead
something deeply embedded in me
failure was not an option
i know better today
for without failure
there would be no accomplishments
no victories
no loss
no self worth
and no love
for what would we use to measure these
things
measure growth
measure maturity
how would we be able to be humble
and grateful
all these emotions and marks of life
would be meaningless
for their is only one place for perfection
that place is not earth
but heaven
earth is just the ride, the journey, the path
we choose to participate in just for the heck of it
there is only one purpose of life...
to seek joy
and when we find trouble
discouragement
depression
fault
in ourselves and others
it is a reminder that we have veered off our path of joy
it's time to get back on track
again
and keep getting back on
until the day perfection is ours
seek joy
trust in your higher power
trust in yourself
avoid the mirrors
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