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:

"Today is a reminder to let others be where they are. It's easy to get caught up in wanting to help people, to get them on the self-awareness path, or to try and fix a problem created by another's consciousness. The truth is, sometimes the most loving and respectful thing we can do is allow others to be where they are...without judgment. - C3 Exchange"

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

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!

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.