I am suspicious of those who profess to know why we are here.
There are quite a few with this certainty. But strangely enough they don't all agree.
That last sentence was sarcasm in case you missed it. I've noticed our common denominator is not agreeing.
You may not be all that impressed with what I have to say, how I choose to say it or to whom I say what I think. I can live with that. It won't change what I think. That is called maturity. The ability to hold on to you in the face of others' disapproval.
I am not meaning to imply this is an easy thing. If it were we'd be born mature. No, it is a process. As I've gotten to know myself better I have improved my level of maturity. The events in my life that I have viewed as negative have contributed to this process. So there is that. Would I have still chosen to go through some of them? Ugh! No. But I'm not in charge. At least not the ego driven me. Yeah I know, now we are delving into less practical areas than a self respecting Capricorn would normally wish to.
I am puzzled by why we are not allowed to know our path. It seems a bit harsh doesn't it? Just stumbling along without a clue, being expected to have faith when all you really want to do some days is shout out really loudly, 'FUCK YOU FAITH' with appropriate hand gestures of course.
No saint here in case you haven't picked up on that yet. I've designed the 'FUCK YOU FAITH' t-shirt many times in my head. But even this list wielding, organizing, alphabetizing Capricorn has come to disbelieve in random. There is something in charge. It isn't me. I have an imagination that I'd put up against anyone's. But even I cannot imagine the big picture.
But I have come to believe there is one. I also believe humanity can contribute preferences to the big picture so we are not random either. Please read that last sentence again. You and I are not random. We are specific. Chosen. Found worthy despite what we might think about ourselves or our neighbor. Yep even your redneck neighbor (complete with beer belly and microwave snack packs of pork rinds) is not random.
But to have the chutzpah to declare that you know why we are here? None of the theories I've heard seem to be the whole answer. Maybe that is because each person's reason for being here is their own.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Ghostbuster
I'm a fan of Twitter. A participant in the madness since 2009. I stumbled across Twitter after sitting outside in my back yard and thinking how like a ghost I felt.
I had the awareness of being present. I felt myself traveling through time and space. I could see myself in mirrors. But it felt like others could not see me. Or if they did, they proceeded to look through me.
Feeling like a ghost wasn't pleasant. I didn't just want to observe. I found myself with the fervent wish to be observed and to participate in life. I imagined myself in a group of people laughing and talking and feeling entirely comfortable, maybe even wanted.
So after forming these thoughts ( really a request or a prayer to the Universe though I did not realize it at the time) I stumbled across Twitter. I had no idea what 'The Twitter' was. I could see people interacting with each other. Exchanging thoughts and experiences. No they weren't all profound. There were lunch tweets, Quick Trip and Post Office errands reported on, an occasional spat and ( gasp ) a cuss word or two.
But I found it all interesting. At that time there were few 'social media' experts. Now they are to be found in about forty percent of the Bios ( barf ). It seemed like a conversation. At a time when I longed to make connections and converse. I jumped in and began to interact. I was excited to find local 'Tweeps' talking about things I was familiar with in my town.
It took awhile to begin to know these people but again I found them interesting and enjoyed the process of becoming acquainted. I attended my first 'Tweet Up' that fall at a place that is no longer in business called Caffe Posto. It wasn't a large place. There wasn't a huge crowd in attendance. There were pumpkin scones which I somehow missed, damn it! Unbeknownst at the time, several of those people would become important to me and, I think, I to them. An answer to a prayer unknowingly offered.
Two nights ago, on Twitter, I told a friend who lives in Florida that I had thought my life was over in 2008. But I've since realized my life was not over it has had a makeover. And there are many days now when I feel sparkly and new.
I had the awareness of being present. I felt myself traveling through time and space. I could see myself in mirrors. But it felt like others could not see me. Or if they did, they proceeded to look through me.
Feeling like a ghost wasn't pleasant. I didn't just want to observe. I found myself with the fervent wish to be observed and to participate in life. I imagined myself in a group of people laughing and talking and feeling entirely comfortable, maybe even wanted.
So after forming these thoughts ( really a request or a prayer to the Universe though I did not realize it at the time) I stumbled across Twitter. I had no idea what 'The Twitter' was. I could see people interacting with each other. Exchanging thoughts and experiences. No they weren't all profound. There were lunch tweets, Quick Trip and Post Office errands reported on, an occasional spat and ( gasp ) a cuss word or two.
But I found it all interesting. At that time there were few 'social media' experts. Now they are to be found in about forty percent of the Bios ( barf ). It seemed like a conversation. At a time when I longed to make connections and converse. I jumped in and began to interact. I was excited to find local 'Tweeps' talking about things I was familiar with in my town.
It took awhile to begin to know these people but again I found them interesting and enjoyed the process of becoming acquainted. I attended my first 'Tweet Up' that fall at a place that is no longer in business called Caffe Posto. It wasn't a large place. There wasn't a huge crowd in attendance. There were pumpkin scones which I somehow missed, damn it! Unbeknownst at the time, several of those people would become important to me and, I think, I to them. An answer to a prayer unknowingly offered.
Two nights ago, on Twitter, I told a friend who lives in Florida that I had thought my life was over in 2008. But I've since realized my life was not over it has had a makeover. And there are many days now when I feel sparkly and new.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Always Always Always
Stories take you away. I love stories. Spoken and written, sung or acted out.
Yesterday I spent time with an older woman and this morning read the words of a younger woman. Both mothers, both whole people, both intelligent and talented in their own way.
The older woman talked and I listened. She told me stories of her youth, her family then and now. I know this woman's oldest daughter and was treated to a different perspective on stories mutually told. I heard about her participation in the civil rights movement. How she audaciously plucked daisies from a college administrator's yard and placed them one by one in the guns of the ROTC. She was pregnant during this time and I marveled that to be a part of this movement she rode a bus from the west coast to the east coast. An uncomfortable ride I'm sure.
I heard about the men she had married. The disappointments and losses. Her experience of being a surprise final baby to an older mother. I saw glimpses of the plucky younger woman she had to have been. I thought how lucky her students must have been to have had as their teacher such a enthusiastic woman. I heard about her travels. I saw the yearning for adventure still in her eyes. I admired the life she carved out despite the limitations of her era.
Over and over I noted the love she had for her children. It presented itself in small and not so small ways. From a sigh when told of her oldest daughter's venture into art, followed by the quiet comment that she didn't know her daughter was artistic. To a discussion of the accomplishments of her second daughter and a story of her youngest child's love of his cats.
I am so glad I got to spend time to know her as herself not just as someone's mother.
This morning I felt privileged to read the words of a young mother. She has recently taken on the full time task of raising her children and making a home for them and her husband. She is a gifted writer so I saw and felt so clearly the stories she told and her feelings about them. I wanted to grasp her hand as she told of the hurt she felt at some unfiltered words of her three year old. My mind immediately went to similar experiences I'd had with my children. The bottomless love you feel for your children leaves you vulnerable in so many ways. I had to smile as she expressed doubt about the path she had chosen in response to the hurt suffered. I hope she knows that her doubts and hurts are echoed infinitely in all her sisters present and gone. Not one of us has missed those feelings. Not one.
I find myself teetering in between where these women are. Hoping that someday someone will admire the life I carved out for myself despite the limitations of my era, that there are those who will wish to know me as myself not just as someone's mother. Yearning, too, for passion and adventure. Suffering hurts and needing someone to grasp my hand. Having doubts about my path. And loving my children. Always. Always. Always.
Yesterday I spent time with an older woman and this morning read the words of a younger woman. Both mothers, both whole people, both intelligent and talented in their own way.
The older woman talked and I listened. She told me stories of her youth, her family then and now. I know this woman's oldest daughter and was treated to a different perspective on stories mutually told. I heard about her participation in the civil rights movement. How she audaciously plucked daisies from a college administrator's yard and placed them one by one in the guns of the ROTC. She was pregnant during this time and I marveled that to be a part of this movement she rode a bus from the west coast to the east coast. An uncomfortable ride I'm sure.
I heard about the men she had married. The disappointments and losses. Her experience of being a surprise final baby to an older mother. I saw glimpses of the plucky younger woman she had to have been. I thought how lucky her students must have been to have had as their teacher such a enthusiastic woman. I heard about her travels. I saw the yearning for adventure still in her eyes. I admired the life she carved out despite the limitations of her era.
Over and over I noted the love she had for her children. It presented itself in small and not so small ways. From a sigh when told of her oldest daughter's venture into art, followed by the quiet comment that she didn't know her daughter was artistic. To a discussion of the accomplishments of her second daughter and a story of her youngest child's love of his cats.
I am so glad I got to spend time to know her as herself not just as someone's mother.
This morning I felt privileged to read the words of a young mother. She has recently taken on the full time task of raising her children and making a home for them and her husband. She is a gifted writer so I saw and felt so clearly the stories she told and her feelings about them. I wanted to grasp her hand as she told of the hurt she felt at some unfiltered words of her three year old. My mind immediately went to similar experiences I'd had with my children. The bottomless love you feel for your children leaves you vulnerable in so many ways. I had to smile as she expressed doubt about the path she had chosen in response to the hurt suffered. I hope she knows that her doubts and hurts are echoed infinitely in all her sisters present and gone. Not one of us has missed those feelings. Not one.
I find myself teetering in between where these women are. Hoping that someday someone will admire the life I carved out for myself despite the limitations of my era, that there are those who will wish to know me as myself not just as someone's mother. Yearning, too, for passion and adventure. Suffering hurts and needing someone to grasp my hand. Having doubts about my path. And loving my children. Always. Always. Always.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
6/6/12
Can't say what I want. //
Can't stop the tears from
falling. //
Is grief my penance? //
Frustration. Clearly //
the fuel that feeds desire. //
Forever supplied. //
I tweet on the pot. //
I call it multitasking. //
TMI you say? //
Why can't you hear me? //
Out loud and bold I'm speaking. //
Yes Dear, I want you! //
Like mimes in boxes //
We have only to take that //
One step to be free //
Fear. Your checkered flag? //
Or a definite dead end? //
Frozen or forward? //
When I feel peace //
I know I am supported //
On the way ahead //
Paying attention //
Because sometimes your warbles //
Are just what I need //
Taking a deep breath //
Filling my senses with you //
Over and over //
It feels wrong to //
want you to want me. Like a //
sin I should confess. //
When we are apart //
I can forget who you are //
Green eyes remind me //
Had to redefine //
the meaning of this day so //
I could make it through //
Can't stop the tears from
falling. //
Is grief my penance? //
Frustration. Clearly //
the fuel that feeds desire. //
Forever supplied. //
I tweet on the pot. //
I call it multitasking. //
TMI you say? //
Why can't you hear me? //
Out loud and bold I'm speaking. //
Yes Dear, I want you! //
Like mimes in boxes //
We have only to take that //
One step to be free //
Fear. Your checkered flag? //
Or a definite dead end? //
Frozen or forward? //
When I feel peace //
I know I am supported //
On the way ahead //
Paying attention //
Because sometimes your warbles //
Are just what I need //
Taking a deep breath //
Filling my senses with you //
Over and over //
It feels wrong to //
want you to want me. Like a //
sin I should confess. //
When we are apart //
I can forget who you are //
Green eyes remind me //
Had to redefine //
the meaning of this day so //
I could make it through //
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