Thunder

I drove into St. Pete last night to pick up a friends daughter for her to spend the next week with us and also into a tropical storm. Barry.

Today I sat and listened to the deep baritone roll of the thunder. It made me think of drums which thunder always does. The sound is deeper here on the west coast of Florida then it is on the east. It catches me by surprise now to hear it here; as I've grown used to it from the St. Aug side. There it has more of a metal ping to it; a different nuance. Is it because it comes from the open seas? When a storm enters the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico does the land mass around it create a different sound vibration?

All things considered it's still the music of nature.

Connecting the dots

"Firstlight" by Sue Monk Kidd is a vignette of contemplative memories with resounding spirituality. It brought tears to my eyes from the beginning as I read her truth's revealed, reminders of reasons and connecting the dots in humanity.

One of the meanings in the dictionary of the word 'Story' is a statement regarding the facts pertinent to a situation or question. It is through those we connect the dots with questions asked from our souls by seeing a part of self within the words shared by another; or share our words for others to see a part of themselves.

"When a suffering is shared, its weight is divided. And when a joy is shared, the delight is multiplied."

I leafed through a couple of pages in my journal book, and some of the entries of this blog. Snippets of profound entangled with the mundane with answers sometimes found along the way.

I still write on "The Vortex" (see October 06), a story inspired from the book titled "From the Dust Returned" by Ray Bradbury, but only write on it now and again. My mind has been consumed by another 'story' I'm writing. My 'myth'? It covers both the wishful thinking, and the realities of taking my 'cinder blocks' I have built around myself. The cinder blocks are made with tears, pain, anger and overall hurt; impenetrable to keep out the pain but also the blessings that accompany. The sweet with the bitter; the best chocolate; bittersweet. All in all it's still a story, like a legend, based losely on truths surrounded by make believe in order for the lessons to be received. Through the dots of connections I'm creating a 'safety net' for self to open more freely, but still keep my self intact.

Cha...Cha...Cha...Changes

The bridge of the old song rings through my mind as changes swirl all around; a mist of vapors echoing with words, dreams, visions, actions - real and imagined.

Why? This has been the most oft asked question to my announcement of going to the Grand Canyon; and "Why not?" is usually my answer. As much as I want to call them and try to get there early, I hold back. Saying goodbye to much loved items and the memories associated with them (I'm not saying good bye to my friends.), change boils the tea down to what really matters the most. How can I live without this or that? It's the memories associated with the items; like my grandmothers Hudson Bay blanket - which is going with me. That blanket kept me warm throughout my life; it was my cocoon when I was a teenager, it nursed me through fevers, dried my tears and was the presence of continuity when I moved with extreme little. So off we go on another adventure.

Looks like my sister will be going to the Grand Canyon too. It'll be nice to know someone there, and to have a room mate that can deal with my habits and wierdness. Not to mention I know MJ will have a backup person to report my goings ons. Especially if there should ever be a 'stable manager' -ha ha.

Preparations begin. I got the camera to start. The Rebel XTi with a 300 mm lens. Right now I'm getting to know it, we're becoming friends, despite my frustrations with the 'computer' brain in it; it's teaching me to think outside the proverbial box so that when we become inseparable the pictures will be AMAZING. In the meantime (isn't there always a 'meantime'?), I grunt, issue a few colorful words, then read the manual and find all I had to do was push a button. Hmmm. Learning process.

Which feeds into the contemplation of Terry's blog on obits. I'll write one, but after I've thought deep about it. It's a well thing.

The Best Damned Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever

Through various experiments with a base recipe here is the results with optional ad ins at the end:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

3 Cups of all purpose flour
1 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder
2 tsp of baking powder
1 tsp of kosher salt
3 cups of granulated sugar

Stir together in a bowl with a fork until well blended then add:

3 whisked eggs
4 sticks of real butter melted
3 and 1/2 tsp of real vanilla extract

Stir together until it's well mixed then add:

1 12 ounce bag of chocolate chips

roll balls about 1-1 and 1/2 inches in your hand
put on parchment with plenty of space for spreading

cook for 15-16 and 1/2 minutes each tray. keep an eye on em to see if the edges are crisping.

Now for special variations:

Cinnamon - add 1 tsp to the dry ingredients
Red Chile pepper - add 1/8 tsp to dry ingredients

or

let your imagination roll;

macadamia nuts maybe?

I like to think this is worthy of Paula Dean.

Two sides to every coin

What do Napoleon, Isabella of Castile & Cat Stevens have in common? History.

In grade school we're taught the remarkable things Isabella of Castile did for the 'birth' of our country. Well if it wern't for her I'm sure a lot of things would be different. Like Napoleon she has two sides, a remarkable example of her faith, a mover and shaker, but with those there are also the 'yang' side. While she and her hubby King Ferdinand were carving their niche in history their faith brought in the Inquisition to Spain as a way to conquer the Muslims and Jews.

Yes right about now my mind is singing a bar from Mel Brook's History of the World Part I.

Then we come to Napoleon. What did he do to remain in the history books? Granted there are a lot of dictators since then that have done much worse then him that barely get skimmed over, however according to a recent PBS show on the Inquistion he participated in closing that chapter; after all it did begin in France.

Interesting how when were taught in history certain activities are ignored in the teachings.

Where does Cat Stevens come in?

Read about him, why is a simple musician given so much power with intimidation of persecution to enter the US?

Religious persecution.

History is philosophy teaching by example, and also warning; its two eyes are geography and chronology.
James A. Garfield20th president of US 1881 (1831 - 1881)

Time Passages

I had to laugh as I read MJ's blog about being lost in Yawnkars, after all that's phoenicly Southern. As she had found her new home, getting lost is sometimes getting found. Which I don't think Brian would've appreciated a call for bail money.
Time seems to slip by in the breeze (tainted with smoke for now), but where it seems like yesterday we were lost in Yawnkers, here it is almost half way through May!
Most already know I've accepted a position at a hotel in the Grand Canyon, I will be leaving here in the fall. In the meantime I am downsizing literally and figuratively as my writing continues. A story borne from the first inkling of this move is still evolving, with a bit more to go but something that I want to finish before I move. Susan is back living with me, it's been a good experience for her and me as I will be living with someone in a dorm room when I move. Not too bad, I think or hope, for someone who's been alone for 9 plus years?!
Despite the cruix of being anxious to go West, I'm needing to sort through all sorts of stuff - once again literally and figuratively, to go onto a new journey. In the meantime...the story continues

Tagged!!!

ahhhh! Bless your heart...
6 wierd things, well let me see about that. That you might not know! (that might be tricky)

1. I prefer to watch PBS, documentarys, and such rather then the 'normal' tv shows.
2. I consider a great museum to be a sanctuary, a place of worship, to learn, listen to my spirit.
3. Susan says I'm analytical, I pick everything apart - especially myself.
4. I collect feathers (I have to find them so don't bring me any)
5. I collect gay boyfriends.
and last but not least...
6. I like to eat Jiff peanut butter on my bananas.

MAY IT END HERE!

Passages

Most of you know I've been holed up in my cave writing a story. I'll continue, but tonight has been filled with welcome interruptions. I was asked recently by a new friend if I've ever met people who I felt I've known for a long time. My reply was "a lot". I consider myself fortunate to have those come into my life that add another link through time. Especially when they come at a time which seems trying due to the everyday day to day gristmill; they're a breath of fresh air reminding me of my own choices in handling of these passages. Seasons? Maybe, then it's those that have been forever in my life like MJ, Terri, and Dori that will call or email just to keep me in focus.

A time for everything

My sister has been staying with me for a couple of weeks, with the intentions of staying here. We both planned it, and were enjoying it. This past weekend we went to St. Pete to go to her grandson's birthday party. Unfortunately I was unable to go, but stayed with a friend, Geneva, to have quiet and write. It was nice.

As we came into town Friday night Susan was called. Her best sister-friend was in the hospital with a heart attack. After dropping me off, she went to see her. The next day after the party, she put a few things in storage. Plans hadn't changed. At least until she went to see her again. She seemed in shock when she returned. She let me know her friend was had more tests done, only to find out her bones were deteriorating at an alarmingly rapid rate. She had been diagnosed as terminal, no more surgeries will be performed. We talked a bit, then did our bit of relaxing each in our own ways. That night before I fell asleep all I could think of was Susan and the interconnection she had with her friend. They were very much like the kindred spirits my friends and I share.

The next morning we packed and headed back. On the way we spoke of the strange timing this was. As Susan had not found a job yet, I suggested she go to her and take care of her. I wasn't sure if she thought I was trying to get rid of her, which I wasn't, all I could think of was my friends. I choked on tears imagining one of them being taken away from this world at such a young age. We would be devastated (at any age). I know if any one of us would have the same situation, all of us would go to her, be there to comfort and make her life as easy as possible, share the tears and laughter as we had done throughout our lives. I helped her plan the way back. I cried jealously of how she'd get to hold my Mada before me. At that time a semi carrying empty chicken cages roared by showering us with feathers. I had to laugh between the tears. I felt Mada comforting me. I know she'll wait for me, as I know she wants me live. Freely.

Best Friends

It is through them I live vicariously; in that I mean by having someone to come home to, to put their arms around you at night, to talk with in bed, to have orgasims (it's been so long I can't spell it right!), to bicker with when you don't see eye to eye but best of all to kiss and make up because you love each other, to watch a movie on the couch cuddling and eatting popcorn, and all those other wonderful day to day things that we normally take for granted until they're gone; not to mention one who likes to do things different. Shall we not even venture onto theatre? lol. Maybe my expectations are high, but I've settled for less before and found it wanting, I'll not do it again. It's not fair to me. They each claim their own personal depths, but each of us are so very much like the ocean with multitudes of depths and are very beautiful women. What in the heck would've made us have such a strong friendship if we were not tied by the strings of time? As someone we all know and love (who'll never live it down) said so eloquently; we are the perfect woman, but I think we are perfect women.

On Dating

1st dates and all that. Actually went on one (surpise, surprise), where the guy opened the door and paid for the evening. Had fun listening to 80-90 rock, the band was good. We went out with another couple, friends of his. They were nice people. Dancing and drinking.
As conversations were, I found we had almost nothing in common. At one point he told me "to keep going out [with him] I expect you to keep an open mind". In otherwords "I pay you lay". I do have to put in here I did want to pay with real money for what I drank, but he insisted. It became obvious at breakfast when he and his friends talked how they continually enjoy a constant round of weekend drinking and dancing.
I enjoy it, especially when my friends and I can actually get together and let loose, but it's not the goal of every weekend or time off. There was a time in my life where the weekends were for nothing but. That was then, this is now.
I have found with each encounter I learn something new about myself, and my own expectations keeping open room for the unknown to be a blessing. I have also found questions that can only answer themselves in time. Will I recognize and be able to have great conversations with another? What is fun?
I have recognized the searce for commonality with those I do encounter to find it lacking. Why would I continue on that line, when it's just a set up for failure? Thus no second dates. Frankly I'm glad of that. Change is necessary for 2 to fit into each other's life and lifestyles, even from the beginning, however if those changes are for the negative what can that bring besides another lesson in heart ache? Couples go through ups and downs together, it's how they are handled that make them or break them. My family of friends project those lessons beautifully. As they stay true to themselves. If I can't have that in my life with another person, then I won't. Either way it is what I make of it.

Gifts

I found a feather today, which most of you know is my kinship with Mada. I'll add it to my bowl of favorite 'gifts' in various forms from those left at my door, to those left at my feet.

I have to expound on the gifts I have and acknowledge their blessings. Not only the material things, but the true gifts of my family of friends and family. They are what make my life beautiful, as I hope, I compliment theirs as well.

Though I may live alone, I'm am not, far from it. Inspired through Hafiz here is what I wrote:

Alone?
I stood out side today
The sun kissed my tears away
As the wind ran its fingers through my hair
And caressed
The warmth enveloped me within its arms
And whispered in my ear
It's sacred love.

I was irritated when I wrote "Because" due to the implication of how one cannot be happy without someone. They can't, however, because I live alone doesn't mean I am.

The season of love, if that's what you call it

Well it's the start of a new week after Valentine's day when every bride, mother of the bride and friends are going to get their wedding ANY way they can.

I took care of 3 brides and 2 soon to be mother-in-laws today which were nasty, except for one. She was very sweet. This week I expect more. I can only imagine the ones who were nasty didn't get what they expected for Valentine's Day or had to drag it out of the other parties involved. It was like the day after Christmas, nasty.

This only reminds me of expectations. Pre dispositioning. Dreaming of the future only to find it's not all roses. The roses have thorns for a reason. I've done my own share, and catch myself when I still do it. Do I still dream? Yes, I have loads of them.

Because...

Went to see a new movie out, chick flick, with a friend. I think I was the only person there that didn't like it.

How many times have we heard:

Don't do that ... or you'll ...

Don't wear that...wear .....so you'll impress him/them. They like that.

Try to be...

I find that a bit discerning since if you don't do that special laugh, or nervous rambling, wear that bold bodacious print rather then the pleated skirt, or etc then what about YOU will they see? What about YOU will they like?

But then again, why take my advice or you'll be alone like me

The Contemplation of Light

When does a stone well seem like the turrent of a castle? The only difference is one goes up, the other goes down. But for the one that goes down it goes a long, long way. And then there's water, if it's not a dry well. The water tends to stay pretty much the same temperature; cold, because it sits at a certain line below the freeze line. At least that's my own rationalization I've come to dig up from a very dusty old memory that managed to brush itself off in my mind. AKA the library of confusion.

So now comes a light, small but strong, following it's path of least resistance via gravity to plop within the water. It doesn't fizzle out like that of a flame touching water, oh no, this one has to go under still glowing and bounce it's way back to the surface via the bouyancy of the water and the vaguely remembered scientific explantion of "magic". still glowing. Fighting the erosion of the water within the tiny cracks leading to a small battery funding it's fuel to stay lit.

I stare. Waiting. Knowing that eventually it too dies. Without cause or reason it started it's death with its first flicker on it's journey down.

"Nan" a voice called from above, and no she was defiantly not 'God'. That voice is everywhere and no where and sometimes comes from within. But this was a human voice. One I know well. It usually came with skittering sounds that floated away leaving behind stripes on the wall that resembled vines.

But now I could see. All around

"Plop" something else fell in. Looking for another light I noticed the reflection. "Ziploc". Hmmm, maybe that was a sacrifice for the dying ember slowing being tortured by moisture.

In the sacrificial gift I noticed more fuel for the fire to keep going.

I looked up and saw what looked like a little blonde girl by the well.

"Stay away from the light Carolanne!" I yelled with a grin.

"Come into the light Nan!" it yelled back with a chuckle.

Slowly my gaze caught the wall as the light filled the room. I saw rungs! As I put my hand up to the first rung my hand held tight. And instead of droplets of water, a book fell away to the pile that was being left behind.

Thank you G

Shattered

In the darkness shadows fall
Weak and weary I tumble then fall
So on scraped knees I attempt to crawl
In the distance I heard a ravens caw
Deep inside I shivered upon my recall
A maul
The distorted realities of a lifeless doll
That lived a life of its own law
Continuously bumping into wall after wall after wall
Until the maul
Wherest my eyes opened and I finally saw
The height and breadth of the tall wide wall
I opened my mouth with an attempt to call
But my voice was strangled from what my mind saw
Was hope taking one last fall?
It crushed and splinted as we hit the wall
And in the darkness it did fall

written 12/8/05

Alone?

I stood outside today
The sun kissed my tears away
As the wind ran its hands through my hair
And caressed.
The warmth enveloped me with its arms
And whispered
Its sacred love

History, or something like that

My oldest sister graciously offered her log on to a geneology site which is proving to be rather ambigious at best. On my own I did find my grandmothers marrige info and subsequently discovered her full name. Nannah Edith Camburn.

No one I know has any information on her lineage, father, mother, etc so I'm finding tid bits here and there. Census records mostly, though those aren't so detailed. Unfortunately birth and death records get pricey so those will have to be garnered slowly.

Like a tree that grows.

Under a cloud

Watching Grey's Anatony it all came back. The feeling of her skin, her little hand in mine as her shell all but remaind. A reminance of a little life that touched so many. Those little fingers ever so ethereal in their beauty and structure. A once living symbol still exists on a pope's sceptor - her hand carried across through time to have blessed so many with her living form - especially me.

As Mars flew high into that August night sky, her spirit flew in such brilliance shadowing the planets red glow with her own light. Off she flies to dance with a friend, meet some relatives and occasionally remind me she still loves me with presents of feathers.

I wonder if I collect enough of them to make wings large enough, can I fly up to be with you?

Not yet it seems, perhaps for a long time should I be so blessed?!

Slowly the lump of ancient ice melts in my throat. The ice as ancient as the shelf in the artic, slowly melts evolving into tears that fall filled with salt of timeless ages. Covered by the cloud that hovers so momentarily, I know this too passes and the sun comes out again.

Create

That's what the file folder says, so here I am. Back on the blog. I've had heartfelt expressions of wondering where I was and how was anyone to keep track of my mind. Of this I can only say 'beware of all who enter' for once one has seen what this mind offers will only add a different slant to a perception.

Thank you Dr. Chris for breathing life back into the old computer (I was going to say hard drive...but that could have such conotations don't you think?!) So I won't damange a poor innocent man as yourself.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. I did despite my daughters attempt at drama to do otherwise. It was still filled with love.

Like life, love can be found anywhere as long as it starts from within.

Namaste