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

It was clouds illusions...

Remember the song Send In The Clowns? Classic. This evening I sat on my balcony watching the clouds float by, serenaded by Miles Davis. Different shapes, evoking memory or inspiration. I thought of how Mada and I loved to watch the clouds and name shapes out of them; sometimes silly things. On the journey back from her funeral I watched the clouds. On our kayaking day Terri told me that we had a Simpson's Sky, as the clouds dotted the sky as in the cartoon. I can't help but look up every day and every night to watch the stories written there.
The line from the song came into my brain, almost like an epiphamy as it made me think of how througout my life I didn't really know love at all. To explain it further only reeks of ego as there were and are different stages that gave different facets of love.

Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same.” Emerson

The call of the wilde

Was it just that? I celebrate and embrace the lack of dysfunctional emotional strings. Do I want something more? Yes, but not at least from this venue.
I excitedly told a couple of friends and one said "I hope this works out for you". The question being, what is the perception of "work's out"? A marriage? A good time? A committment? A one night stand?
I know it "worked out" to what it was/is supposed to be....at least for me.

Grief

It takes a tragedy to reflect divine forgiveness. In the news regarding the families of the Amish girls killed by a milk truck driver, it was noted how the Amish leaders have set up a fund for the killer's widow and three children.

The Amish were not the only victims.

I cannot, nor do I ever want, to imagine the phases of grief those parents face. My grief is a creature of a different nature.
My forgiveness is to no one by myself. For others it is a path upon which angels and I fear to tread. Eventually thought it comes down to it. It being forgiveness. If one doesn't forgive eventually the anger, depression, and darkness eats the soul like an acid. Getting to that point is a journey all on its own.

Dive into one's soul
Where the still waters fun deep
Past the broken dreams
Where soul and stars meet
Where time is but a shadow
An you your self meet (seek)
Through the promises
Even those we didn't keep
Past the rich landscape
That made us today
Deeper into the unknown
Where the soul still weeps
Through out life and death
Our tapestry we weave
Till we chance upon the place
To where all souls meet

Soul Mates

Well what an eye opening reality. Just like patience when one prays for it they get the lesson. No different then those who have come into our lives. I can look back and wow those 2X4's were at it again!
So when you look back at those who have loved, left, and loved again, what was the lesson they taught? Do you realize they were a 'soul mate'? There to teach you that lesson? What did they reflect that YOU needed to know? Did they treat you as badly as the person in your head did? Do you or I for that matter expect someone else to treat you or me any better then you or I treat ourselves? Words, actions, deeds, thoughts all of those are included. What a concept.

The Vortex

forward note; this is a story I've created.

As a memory, each room is numbered 13. Though the rooms are different, they’ve been numbered so there wouldn’t be a descending or offending order. Clothed in their thin veils, spiders touch up the silk threaded duvets; woven tightly to cocoon the occupant when reserved. Black, white and red candles blaze with blue flames casting a thousand year old glimpse off timeliness throughout the quiet halls.
The fountain in the stone foyer slips the memories of exotic nights; tell tale within the rhythm of the cascading water to those sequestered on the couch; listening. The stories told in a monotone lullaby; weaving a mist through the eyes of those waiting; and they thought they were taking a break from the heat outside. Waiting.
Quietness moves as a shadow; a breath moving as would an echo. A ripple. Left behind in it’s continuing wake is Noise. As Quiet goes through the hotel, lingering every now and again in certain places replenishing it’s energies; Noise insinuates the rush of air that closes a door, the dance of the paper floating in the wind captured in graceful swirls and arches. Nerveless, there are hours; Oh! That feels like days, where Quiet has gone out on the back of a carriage for a tour of the town. Sometimes to remind itself or converse with the others of that Time. Leaving Noise to knock around dust motes, as it’s momentous wake fades to but a restless whisper.
That Time, what should be contrived to be but a stale wind; Time. Then and again, but now. Within its breath, whispered a hush capturing attention of few; only those that know or believe. After all this is the New World’s oldest city. Where things past exist in the back of peoples minds are welcome to be; what some call ghosts, ectoplasms, witches and anything belonging to the mysteries of the metaphysical.
Occasionally laughing with the rustle of the leaves as it sees a play. As surreal as the multitude of ghosts that walk, lay, laugh, cry and play in the crowded streets. Except mid day when the sun bets it’s fury unwittingly in the sands or black top. Burning. Summer. In essence a winter of it’s own where when one steps outside the calidity is so biting it sends chills crawling up the arms as the sweat pores expand. Even the heat is forgiven as the ghosts play during the nights when the moon is full; three days before and three days after.
There once was a moment that Time stood still and Quiet screamed. Her hollow voice shrilled so loud even the living shivered and quickly moved to what was an attempt to safety. Noise hitched on the echoing vibrations of Quiet’s scream swept through on what could only be described as a preliminary cold-front; the kind that poses as a natural warning to those of an impending storm. No one living or dead could imagine the storm-front that came in. In that brief moment a gaping hole appeared. One that lies between planes of time. An open door for Shadow to creep forth its darkness; bringing on his tale the unwanted cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews from the Other side. The dregs. Lost souls and unknown entities that buoy hate, harm and anger. The vortex has been opened!
“Order!” the ancient judge roared from his misty dais. “Order in the court” his gavel struck the mist clanging across time. So there, they gathered as a fog. The ghosts in the once used courthouse; they layered. Some standing on the beds, some through them. The old room slowly taking upon itself its ghostly appearances of what was between Times folds.
“Wouldn’t the ball room have been better?” one was heard muttering.
“It’s an emergency meeting” the bailiff spoke. A hole through his forehead reflecting what was beyond; “and it’s currently in use for the temporary vestigages of today’s youths”. As he spoke the crescendo of music seeped through the walls and doors like oozing blood.
“It appears” the dusty judge quieted the room before him shaking the cobwebs from his pale face, “that the vortex has been opened. I want an investigation as to how it was done and how to close it. Most importantly the latter, at least for the moment. Any former psychics present?” His piercing eyes scanned the crowded room. A cold mist was forming from the presence of so many ghosts.
“Here”, spoke a quiet woman veiled from head to foot in white, the wooden stake rotting from her chest as the blacked blood stained the front of her Victorian lace gown. “It’s only because I know the dangers Shadow presents that I’ll help you, my former torturers” her blue eyes blazed a fire long remembered from a time that slipped past as she spotted her rivals amongst the crowd. “In order for the vortex to have been opened”, she rose above the crowded room capturing everyone’s attention, “someone of some supernatural abilities must have moved the seals, the Lions, the globe and, God help us, the doorway” The ghostly apparitions stood still; only the scurrying of the minute spiders that had crawled into their caskets and died with them scattered amongst the rustles of their period clothing.
“We know what it means if we cannot send them back into their own time and space.” The judge knowingly looked around the room.
“Yes,” the psychic began, “they will break the rules of our polite dead society we have created. First with possession of those that walk topside with malevolence:” slowly she proceeded to float towards the dais to stand below the judge, “then they will start to manipulate the weak with a vengeance; dead or alive. As I see it,” she then turned to the judge, “we have two choices to start with; to close the gate so there would be no more entries and to gather those that are here and attempt to get them sequestered in a spot to hold them till we can send them back to the other-side. Keep in mind the longer the gate stays open the more there will be on this plane; and herding the Shadow and Others will be a continuous battle. I propose”, the Lady turned back to fan the growing crowd of misty apparitions, “that we close the gate, then meet again to determine what can be down with the existing problems as they occur.”
“Humph”, the judge nodded in reluctant acquiescence, his dislike for her clearly written on his face; “unless there are other ideas presented?” he turned to the crowded room “anyone? Then so be it!” his gavel sounded on the misty dais, “Lets get the Stone back in place, meet back here two o’clock am sharp! The hours are precious so please entities lets not dawdle!”
The chill on the third floor hallway slowly ebbed from the rooms as the ghosts fled to the position of the stone; the chill still palpable to any person within their path. Out side, they followed the trail of darkness, before them, a void of all light swirled and flapped about in the air. Maniacal laughter echoed from the void as though it echoed through a stone chamber entreating those in front of the open doorway a wavering ripple in their own ghostly apparitions.
The modern day building itself stood in quiet desolation. The tools of the local tradesmen left to lie; as though waiting to be picked up and start working again as though nothing had happened. But it did. And the workers were gone. To where no one knew. The old stonewall; which had been covered throughout the generations with succeedant walls, was possibly to ensure that no one breach the gate. That would never be known; for now it was an attempt to create a wine cellar for a local restaurateur. In the name of money, he ignored the carved warning:
When the marker set at the North end rolls
The Lyons leave their post
Te wall torn down
Opens the gates as the darkness calls
And demons swarm
Written with sagacity; perhaps from the Lady’s ancestor who priorly entreated to this new land before she, for they couldn’t have known the large round mile marker set at the North end of town was to have been rolled to safety for construction as had the stone lions which sat at the base of the bridge. All tucked safely inside a warehouse the roars of the lions were silenced by the stone edifice surrounding them: echoing beneath the silence where they sat as they heard the wall fall and Darkness escape.
For now the building took on misty appearance as the apparitions floated as close to the opening as they dared all wanting to watch as though it was a modern day automobile accident. The Lady in White fearlessly moved into the building to inspect what appeared to be candles in a circle; the sage added to the atmosphere with it’s white smoke as a young man diligently worked with herbs and verbal chants completing his circle’s cast.

October

October approaches. The doorway to the holidays as I like to think of it as. After the sluggishness of summer it feels good to breathe. People become a little bit nicer for the most part, and it turns just a little cooler; even if it is only in the evening. Remember I'm in the South. So here's a reflection of the seasons that began this blog but worthy of repeating:

Indiana sun
Tractors in the fields
Smell the rich loamy dirt
Soon the smell of dust
As the heat beats down
The corn waves As we drive by
Our hands out the windows
Creating rainbows
Ditch flowers growing wild
Ornamental dusty lanes
Lean into summer nights
Lit by fireflies
Stars all around
Wake up to fall
The smell of burnt carrots
Smells just like burning leaves
The frost on pumpkins
Like a sprinkle of sugar
Till the snow falls peaceful
God saying "shhhhh"
As the world is tucked in
To bed.