sueeeus

A collection of fragments until I can find how to process them further.

five years and ten million stitches of love

I thought I saw the hummingbird do a flyby past me on the deck, not long before I got the call to say goodbye.  I felt a surge, a thrill, a sense of hope.

Today I saw the hummingbird for certain.  Bright green.  One of mom’s favorite colors.  And not one, but two.  The other is a greyish brown, so maybe they are a pair.

Reading back on the dreams, I am caught up and overcome with further tears as I realize the one was prophetic, because it was exactly the scene when we were gathered with her to say goodbye.  I read it back and relive those moments, still so fresh in my mind.  In the physical present real world moment of saying goodbye, I felt at a loss, as though I couldn’t find the words to speak and I’d botched my only chance; in the spirit she knew that I was there with her and she knew exactly how I felt and what I wanted her to  know, limitless, undying love which shines around us like a million suns.

Some of the sorrow seems to revolve around wist.  There is no question about her now.  She’s blazing brightly, swimming in heaven’s embrace now.  The wist is for the earthly time, the moments not spent loving and joying, the time lost from all the things that distract us from love and joy.

So of course it comes to mind that if in this present moment I am rewinding and reviewing the aching years of her life and how she could have been more joyful, I can’t help but notice that I myself am often distracted from joy, and my own life is flying on by.

Forgetting to live my life joyfully because I’m busy taking care of or being concerned about something or someone else.  That’s not what I want.

Pot, kettle, black.  So I need to do a better job of living joyfully, of being present, of being aware of the journey.

I’ve been wrapped up in my quilt, soaking up the love and memories.  Every quilt has a story to tell.  Five years and ten million stitches, all at my mother’s hand, thinking of me, sewing her love to me with each and every stitch.  The colors, the fabric textures — she put careful thought into all of it.  This masterpiece has been stored away for years, because I never wanted it to get soiled or stained.   She would consider that ridiculous of me.  It’s a practical item,  meant to be used.

I’m using it now.  I wrap myself close and look at all the details and think about what life moments took place when those stitches were made, and realize how much love and life has been shared all along, in languages that I didn’t recognize.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child…

It’s time to put the big boy pants back on.  I’ve been struggling, trying to regroup and regain strength with which to face all that is before me.  I’m at a loss to articulate the whats and wherefores, and I’ve found myself again in a place of internal anguish and exhaustion.  I find myself chasing restoration via a web of neovascularization; thought streams venturing out looking for nourishment in unfriendly terrain.

now I know in part

Where is the healing for the healer?  Where is the guidance for the guide?   The answers are always given to me, when I pay attention and notice.  When I’m weary and depleted I look for ways to replenish and nourish my fragmented self.  Sometimes my efforts seem to fail and I’m left feeling even more frustrated and worn.  Sometimes, on days like this day, I just have to stop.

…the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof…

When I catch myself feeling frustrated, falling to the base emotions that I so heartfully want to overcome, I struggle through a barrage of thoughts along these lines: Why do I feel this way?  What do I need?  Why am I thinking ungraciously?  Why am I annoyed?  What do I expect?

I need to be gracious.  I can’t expect anyone to think as I think, see as I see, feel as I feel, understand as I understand, know as I know.

through a glass darkly

Everything is nothing and nothing is everything.  What if it’s all the same.  Or everything matters and nothing matters.  What if that’s all the same.  Consider the perfection of a circle.  The starting point is the finishing point.  They are one and the same.  It takes something external to provide a reference of distinction.  Time.  I can tell the difference between the beginning and the end when I introduce time, but the thing is, that point, zero degrees or 360 degrees, remains that point, whether time is involved or not.  Is it a beginning?  Is it an end?  Maybe it just is.

The reminder that came to me has everything to do with time.  Life as I know it is a journey, and we are all at different stages with different capacities, abilities, understandings and levels of knowledge.  Our world views are limited by our own exposure and awareness.  Ages and stages.  There is generally an order of progression with things.  I suppose that defines growth.  We are all at different ages and stages.

and yet show I unto you a more excellent way

I can’t expect anybody to understand me.  I’m not even sure why I have such a hunger.  Maybe it’s an existential thing.  Maybe if I felt understood, then I would feel valid.  As if I need a reason to be.  I certainly don’t want my children to think they need a reason to be!  So why would I think such a thing for myself?!

At this age and stage, I’m the grownup in the room.  I have to put the big boy pants back on.  Help is and always has been when and where I need it.  Everything that I need is available to me, when I open my eyes.  Life is a treasure, full of breathtaking wonder, a dazzling tapestry all around me, for my own joy and rejoicing.  I have all the strength and love that I need.  I am here.  Now.

I’m glad that I wrote about exploitation the other day.  It helped me process thoughts more productively.

Exploitation suggests an offender –the one exploiting, and a victim –the one exploited.  It absolves, somewhat, the one exploited from the responsibility of the situation.  Not that I am advocating transferring responsibility for a situation to someone, anyone, or anything other than myself….

Now that some thoughts have had a chance to mill about outside of the coulda woulda shoulda trap, I’ve finally been able to get somewhere.  Now I can and do reclaim responsibility for all of it.  Maybe I was a victim, maybe not.  Well, that man on the train had no right to invade my space, and that Iranian dude had no right to amuse himself with me in the manner that he did…    ….and that ex boyfriend really had no right to do me while I was asleep.  Had I woken up and gotten involved, well hello, that would be a different matter altogether (what’s better than barely waking and reaching for the one you love, and moving together in union and harmony in a semi conscious state?  How sexy and amazing is that?!), but I did not (wake up or respond in any way), and he proceeded, so yeah, he had no right to do that.  I was curious, truth be told.  Curious as to whether he would proceed or not.  It was a test, I suppose, and he failed….    Anyway.  I am not a victim.  I don’t know why or even how some things happen the way they do.  I am no longer hungry for an explanation for any of it.  I’ve decided to let it all go.  It’s something from the past, and the minute that it became history, it lost its power over me.  I don’t know why it took me almost 25  years to figure that out, though.

I’m learning the value of the now.  The only moment for which I have complete control is the moment that I’m experiencing now.  Now!  I am who I am.  I am who I choose to be.  I am who I want to be.  I can draw from the wisdom that has accumulated through the years and the experiences of other times, and I can choose to let all of the experiences be just that.  Wisdom.  Nothing else.  They can’t bring me down.  They aren’t an anchor, holding me down or holding me back.  I don’t want to be sad.  I don’t want to be angry.  I don’t want to be depressed.  I don’t want to be gloomy.  I don’t want to be hurt.  I have no desire for vengeance.  Besides all that, I’m a firm believer that good things come, always, always, always, somehow, from the ashes and anguish and sorrows and tears.  Always, good things come.  So in addition to that certainty, I now have this revelation, this added bonus, this wellspring of effervescent joy.  This is my moment, my life, this time that I am breathing, this instant.  This is mine!  This is my life!  I’m not going to be duped into allowing the past to steal my present.  No more!! And I’m not going to let the future steal my present either.  While I may have some input as to what my future holds, there is absolutely nothing that is certain.  Nothing except for the now.  My now.  My present.  This is what I have.  It’s all that any of  us has.  I’m claiming it.  Owning it.  It’s MINE!  This is life!  THIS.  IS.  LIFE.

brown eyed girl

I am exactly who, what, and how I want to be in this very moment.  I am good!  I am kind!  I am loving!  I am gentle!  I am strong!  I am smart!  I am capable!  I am resourceful!  I am responsible!  I am lovely!  I am fun!  I am creative!  I am happy!  I am healthy!  I am joyful!  I am alive!

Hello world.  It’s me.

Me!

I’ve decided to let the anxiety go. Rather, there are so many positive things to think about.  I consider the various close calls I’ve had in life, yet here I am.  I am a mother to two fine youngsters.   A mother!  It was my life’s dream, and it came true for me.  I have a small circle of friends, dear and well loved.  Untold wealth!  I have a profession, as much of a head scratcher as that may be.  I provide well for my family and our needs are met.  We live in a beautiful, peaceful place, surrounded by trees.  We have everything that we could possibly need.  I have the particular love of a good and fine man.  I am especially blessed at this time in my life.  I have more vigor and hope and joy now than I’ve ever had before.

So this is what I have to say about turning fifty.

Bring it!

bring it

phoenix rising

I don’t know what the future holds.  I want happily ever after, like anybody else does.  If I could have a made-to-order life companion, I could throw out a list of attributes that would be welcome — tall, brown hair, blue eyes, smart, competent, confident, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, responsible, witty, gentle, strong, mature, educated, thoughtful, playful, sensitive, wise, elegant, savvy, honest, healthy, trustworthy, fun, dependable, interesting, passionate, alive, affectionate, communicative, understanding, patient, excellent.

If.

I don’t even know if I could live with a man again.  I haven’t lived well with the men I shared space with for the past fifteen years.  It’s hard to picture the possibilities.  In a perfect world, with a perfect me, I would be able to live with someone, happily ever after.  I would be able to go to sleep and wake up by his side, and move around in harmony in the space we share.  In a perfect world.

I can’t bring someone into our family fold unless I know beyond all doubt that he is fine and upstanding and will love and honor my children and be a positive influence in their lives.

Meanwhile, I am healing.  I am coming back.  I am re-emerging.  I feel it, and it thrills me.  I am beginning to feel more complete, more beautiful.  I can and will be just fine on my own.  My heart is open.

I’m still susceptible to the jabs* of those who choose to be unkind.  Even so, I am surrounded by so much love, and it quickly assuages any fiery darts that are thrown my way.  My friends and family are so very dear to me, and I am absolutely rich in the love and kindness that we share with each other.

*This photo started a FaceBook flame, but so many fantastic people jumped in with nothing but kindness and support.