Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

This is the second time I've read this story and got something different out of it this time. I fell in love with Gilman's ideas and writing in a college English class when we were assigned The Yellow Wallpaper. I was the only one in the class that loved the story. I felt Gilman's message about how women were treated was important and so when I discovered she had written Herland, based on an all women's utopian society, I couldn't wait to get my hands on it.
The beginning of the story was somewhat humorous duet e to the conversations between these three totally opposite adventurers and their discovery of this hidden female society. Terry, the macho, patriarchal leader funding the trip seems to find it impossible that women alone could create a functioning civilization let alone a happy one. Whereas Jeff, the sensitive woman worshipper, isn't totally convinced Terry is on to something yet kind of sits back and enjoys the ride. It's Van who sees women as more of an equal gender and allows his friendship with Ellador to delve into the strength and inner wisdom females encompass. For the first time, he is able to see the benefit of a "Marriage" outside of physical intimacy and the advantages of partnership on a whole new level. I found his thirst for knowledge and his shame of how our society sees the role of women endearing. Gilman's way of showing how backwards our society is in some ways was done through humor and comparisons with the Herland society. It was very tongue in cheek at times but got the message across with the women of Herland asking question after question about how our country works. It did make me feel a little embarassed to think how we often as a society think we know best and that we are superior to other cultures when in fact, some third world countries have maintained some values I think would benefit all of mankind. I recommend this book for a book club or class discussion as it leads to many different views and perspectives, much too long to go into a review. You just might learn something about the people in your life that you thought you knew very well.

TEASER TUESDAYS asks you to:
Grab your current read.Let the book fall open to a random page.Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12.You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from … that way people can have some great book recommendations if they like the teaser you’ve given!
Please avoid spoilers!


Our girl was straight boycrazy. (To be called boycrazy in a country like Santo Domingo is a singular distinction; it means that you can sustain infatuations that would reduce your average northamericana to cinders.) She stared at the young bravos on the bus, secretly kissed the bread of the buenmosos who frequented the bakery, sang to herself all those beutiful Cuban love songs.

(from The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz, page 88)

Teaser Tuesday is hosted by MizB at ShouldBeReading. Stop by to visit and read more teasers!

my new t-shirt

believe it or not, all of the following is on the back of my new t-shirt

Love this Life....
is about celebrating the moment
and that we're not guaranteed
or owed another day
and how cool it is that what we hide
can actually be the fuel towards our glory
and that it's not so bad being proven wrong

Love this Life...
is about welcoming the blind turn
and the possibility that
there's no such thing as coincidence
and that empathy is incredibly sexy
and that it's never too late
to pick up a guitar or a paintbrush
or to make an amend or to make a new friend

Love this Life...
could be about rekindling a past flame
or igniting a new one
or shapeshifting from a dreamer into a doer
or savouring the caress of a love long gone

Love this Life...
means whatever it is you want it to mean
because

Love this Life...
is a celebration of you and your path

Love this Life...
cuz it could go at any second

you rock.

by David Culiner

what a message huh?

affirmation for 2009 i received at unity north burning bowl ceremony last night, thought i'd share it for those that may benefit from this affirmation and weren't present to receive it....

i now release and forgive all persons, all places, all things, and all conditions of the past and the present which are no longer a part of the Divine Plan for my on-going good.
i do give thanks that i am now released and forgiven by all persons, all places, all things, and all conditions of the past and the present which are no longer a part of the Divine Plan for my on-going good.
thank you father, mother, god for my freedom from the mistakes of the past and the results of the mistakes of the past.
i now attract to me my highest good, thank you, thank you, thank youou

may your 2009 be peaceful, prosperous and full of opportunities to grow....

The Invitation

just wanted to share this amazing poem I read today..

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true, I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, or how you came to be here- I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
May 1994

Local Food

In one of my bookclubs I joined last month, we read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver and The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan. What a wake up call to food, where it comes from, how it gets to our plates, our mouths and what all goes into producing, processing, and getting it into the stores, into the markets and into our homes. Instead of the typical book group style meeting at the restaraunt, we decided to go on a field trip to a local farm. The owner of the farm gave a tour of his farm and what all he has growing right now; broccoli, spinach, carrots, tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, different types of lettuce and a few other veggies I can't recall. After touring the grounds and watching the men work the compost pile, smoke was rising from the compost and I was amazed that it steamed due to the breakdown of chemicals and their reactions, we followed him back over to the pig roasting in the ground out back. There were about 40 people visiting the farm today and all were environmentally aware and a lot of them had gardens and were familiar with growing garlic, veggies among other things. It felt like a little commune while we all filled our plates with freshly roasted pork, homemade coleslaw from the veggies in the garden, baked beans, grilled portabella mushrooms, grilled tofu and sweet potatoe pie for dessert. There was fresh local brew to be had and fresh parmeson cheese, it was all delicious.
It was slightly cold but the bonfire was warm and as long as you were in the sunshine, it wasn't too bad until the shade took over.
All in all, it makes me realize how much work goes into growing food and caring for it. This farmer has a landscape company that he put a lot of time into and farming outside of that. He went into the difficulties of getting the certification he needs to sell produce straight from his farm and how the laws are not in favor of small farmers. He sells to a few local farmer's markets and has clients that he helps start a garden in their yard which bring him pleasure.
The Kingsolver book was my favorite as it told the tale of her family's decision to move from Arizona to Virginia on a farm and live off of only local food they could grow or buy from neighboring farms for one entire year. It was funny in parts and insightful in how the food industry doesn't tell us everything about what we put into our bodies every day. I highly recommend reading her book if even to see how we can make a difference by taking baby steps in our everyday life. If everyone of us just put 10% of our spending into supporting local food growers, it would tilt the odds in our favor and keep the small farms around. 10% isn't much and it is something we can make a choice to do by finding a local farmer's market or food co-op nearby and choosing to buy our vegetables there instead of at Kroger or Publix.

read your work and you're a slut

saturday and sunday at the decatur book festival went well. saturday not as well as sunday. i was assigned to work the roy blount jr. signing at the library. the auditorium filled up and people were waiting outside in a line and not very happy. there were three other volunteers but somehow i got nominated to stand outside and block the incoming traffic as the library auditorium was over capacity. it was hot. people were mean. i was surprised at how mean book lovers could be as they were there for a discussion and signing of a book not a national convention. i felt like the bad guy having to turn them away as some of them said they'd drive from alabama. a lot of them had darn good excuses as to why i should let them past me and into the library, "my husband is saving my seat", "i just need to go to the bathroom", "someone is waiting for me inside", "i'm here to surprise mr. blount's wife, she doesn't know i'm here" etc. anyway, you would think they'd paid for a ticket and were refused admission. at some point i was pushed and to think these were the ones that showed up straight at 10 when the talk began, i can't imagine if they'd been waiting an hour and refused entrance.
sunday was a bit better, my job was to bring ice cold bottles of water to all of the vendors that needed any, they loved to see me coming. they were appreciative and very thirsty....
after volunteering i saw karin slaughter discuss suspense writing and my favorite part was the author hollis gillespie, who wrote "bleachy haired honkey bitch" was in the audience and after another audience member commented on how karin didn't look like she'd be writing the violent stuff she writes, hollis raised her hand and stated to karin "i've read your work and you're sick" to which karin responded "well i've read your work and you're a slut" loved it..

breathing room

my mom is here visiting from ft. worth texas. she and i are close, always have been. we talk on the phone 5 times a day if even for just a minute or two, sharing our experiences, music, words, visions, dreams. we don't see eachother in person but once or twice a year but i feel like we are always together since we do share so much via telephone. she is an artist. she is a free spirit. she always told me to "lighten up" when i was younger, she said "quit being such a prude" she was the child and i the adult or so it seemed. i often told her what she was doing wrong or not doing as a parent, i read to her from Dr. Spock books while she painted her canvases until 3 a.m. smoking and drinking coffee. i told her she wasn't supposed to give me candy until after i ate dinner. she said, "what if dinner is a hershey bar?" instead of washing the pans with stuck on food, she'd throw them in the back yard. she went through husbands as most people go through kleenex. i stopped paying attention after the 5th one. when i see movies like "anywhere but here" and "running with scissors" i can relate since my mom was and is a little, no a lot, eccentric and lives life to the fullest. i've always struggled to find my identity outside of my mother since she is overpowering, an extremely strong woman and at times a bit dramatic and controlling. i lost myself in her shadow and chose to hide there where it felt safe until i was in my thirties. now when we get together in person, about the third or fourth day something changes and we both get a little bit irritable, sensitive, cranky, restless. we are at that point now in this visit and we had our one time falling out last night and today has been better but i know with her leaving wednesday, i'll be sad, i'll feel guilty that i couldn't be what she wanted me to be, give in to her whims, revolve around her or at least stay awake long enough to interact because for some reason, its all i can do to stay awake after the third day of our visits. maybe its the breaking point when i can no longer put up a front of being agreeable, holding back my opinions that might be different from hers, i don't know why i even feel the need to do this as she loves me unconditionally and i know this with all of my heart. she lives for me and my children. teaches art classes to the homeless, the juvenile delinquents in lock up, library classes after school, all to send money and anything else we need to us, me and my children. she loves us to the point of suffocation sometimes but she loves us. i'm wondering if this kind of stressful anxiety i'm experiencing is just what happens to all families when they get together, especially during the holidays. all the intense emotions in small spaces for extended periods of time. i love her though with every ounce of my being. i pray for patience, for acceptance, for compassion, i know she won't always be here and i cry just to think about it. i remember around 10 years old i would think about her dying or not being around forever and i'd cry instantly. i gave her a wooden tulip a long time ago with a quote on it and it is still true to this day, she cried when she read it. it said, "to my mom, i've loved you longer than you've loved me, i've loved you all of my life, you've only loved me part of yours" this will always be true.

wednesday night run

first time on pavement for awhile
sound of rubber hitting asphalt
dogs barking in dark corners
cats jumping out of gutters and slinking across the street
headlights shining in my eyes
skipping over potholes, speed bumps
turn corner onto e. ponce
whizzing past the post office
sweat dripping off arms onto hands onto pavement
cars passing to the leftbass pumping out of windows at the stop light
whizzing past taco mac, ruby tuesday
couples snuggling into each other behind windows
sharing food, conversation, lips
laptops open to powerpoint presentation on tables
sipping coffee, reading paper
whizzing past starbucks
man playing saxaphone on bench
lovely jazzy sound almost want to stop and lie in the grass
couples drinking and talking not 100 yards from jazz music
coming up to church streetman walking toward me with two huge incense sticks burning
saying something i can't understand
sure do like the smell of the musky incense
woman walking, looking all around, .. phone
workers taking out trash from tai me uptired and ready to crawl into bed after feeding decatur
continue on toward avondale station
dark, dark, dark
people walking on other side of street
men sitting on wall laughing and talking
figuring out how to solve the world's problems
on a wall in downtown decatur with the faint sound of jazz music and the faint smell of incense in the air

running

running seems to be a theme in my life. running from someone else, running from myself, running from feelings, obligations, committments, lonliness, sadness, fear, pain, truth, lies....
when i say i'm tired, i am tired of avoiding, running and denying feelings. i'm not perfect, far from it but sometimes i think i've lived in this bubble that i'm beyond the things i've been running from. by not allowing myself to sit with them, i've denied their existance. why do i run like i'm running for my life to get away from feelings. from lonliness. i know it won't kill me, i know i'm strong, i'm capable, i actually like myself, i like that i'm restless, that i'm always wanting to learn something new, experience something new and scary sometimes, i'm not afraid to talk to anyone, i love connecting to others on a deep level, i like that i'm not afraid to take myself out to dinner in a restaurant, go to a movie alone, i wonder what it would be like if i met myself as another person or do we do this all the time and deny the mirror we stand before. i wonder if i could be friends with someone like me. i wonder if i'd get on my nerves wondering so much ha ha. if i did meet someone like me, we'd probably never get a word in edgewise. i like that about myself too though, that i have alot to say and a burning desire to express myself. a burning desire to be understood but are we really ever understood? we all have different perceptions, different life experiences, this story we tell others to define ourselves is just that, a story. its our perception and no one else's. it one-sided and probably not even true. i don't want to always feel the need to tell my story, its getting old. i don't think people really care anyway. maybe i'll just start walking up to people, stand next to them, look at them, smile, nod, and just feel the energy exchanged between us. no questions, no confessions, just pure energy. maybe they'll think i'm crazy, maybe they'll not. i don't know anymore, words don't seem to do justice to what all is swarming inside my head at any given moment. words are so trifling, so shallow compared to the depth between the pathways in my brain. hell i can't even understand what is travelling through the chemicals flowing in my brain. (on a side note, don't hate me but i love my new mariah carey cd) kind of a guilty confession i guess that sometimes a "pop" cd will get me moving, like last year i bought the britney spears cd and it was so embarrasing to admit i loved it but i did admit it and told everyone to get it, i guess they did as she sold a bunch of em...
sorry about that little digression. i'm tired, went to an art exhibit for a girlfriend of a friend of mine and then dancing at msr until 3 a.m. feeling a little obsessive, addicted to someone that pulls the strings to my heart. what is this fucking thing addiction? it sucks but yet it also is a driving force that nothing can compare to. i truly realize a little bit of what a drug addict feels when they need a fix. i get short of breath, my thoughts are on her only, on where she's at, what she's doing, if she misses me like i miss her. am i as special to her as her last or her best. outside of the relationship, i know i'm special, i know i'm lovable but i constantly question my value to her, it has nothing to do with her, i know it is about my fears, my insecurities, my weakness, but it sucks and yet i wouldn't trade this experience with her for anything. i only want to learn to breath and not freak out when we fight, not freak out and drive over to her house at 3 a.m. when she doesn't pick up her phone, i don't want to look for the bad, the reason to walk away and say, "i told you so, everyone lets me down, nobody is trustworthy" i want to trust, i want to believe, i want to stop wanting and just have and just be....

watching my thoughts

this is an assignment in a book i'm reading, "living juicy-daily morsels for your soul" by sark. i thought i'd try using her entries as inspiration or prompts to write from but the first one i chose is hard. i don't like my thoughts most of the time. they are based in fear, fear of being alone, fear of never being alone, fear of never being alone due to the fear of being alone, fear of betrayal, deception from the ones i choose to trust, fear of lack, you get the point.
on my walks through the neighborhood, my mind races not on what is around me, not on my beautiful surroundings but on fears, on bad dreams, on the past whether it be of the one i love or my own or the future and where its taking me or not.
i can sometimes focus on the now, breathe a deep breath and really feel my surroundings but it is difficult and i wonder what the f--- is wrong with me that i can never seem to be happy for long. it comes and goes and i know everything is impermanent but others seem to be able to grasp this joy easier than i can.
i feel lost. i feel like i'm floating in a large ocean without a lighthouse in sight. i'm not drowning but i'm not really moving in any direction, just floating, just maintaining, just surviving. but for how long can i float without being pulled under by the tide, sharks, waves, bad weather? i know i must trust this place i am at and not question it, i know because i've read it in books and told others the same thing, the answers will appear when i'm ready, for now i must live the questions. i know this to be true but i fight it, i fight it with every ounce of muscle i have. i fight it like i'm dying for my next breath or i'll suffocate. i'm so tired of fighting....

tattoos are so cool

i'm having fun studying my new tatoo on my wrist. it has 8 petals for the buddhist eightfold path on the outside 1)right knowledge 2)right thinking 3)right speech 4)right conduct 5)right livlihood 6)right effort 7)right mindfulness 8)right concentration and the symbol for "Om" is in the center which means, "Om is the one eternal syllable of which all that exists is but the development. The past, the present, and the future are all included in this one sound, and all that exists beyond the three forms of time is also implied in it". it is a sound i grew up meditating with when my mother taught me to sit crossed legged and chant. to me it means peace, presence, calm, serenity, awareness all of which come from sitting quietly.
my friend kelly and i went to 13 roses tattoo parlour and met lil' d who did our tatoos, she got the yin/yang symbol and i got the above mentioned. if you want a recommendation for a great, awesome energy, tatoo artist go to 13 roses and ask for him. his energy is amazing and calming. i was honored that he was available but then again, it always works out that we are sent to the right person in every situation.
i am so happy with the tatoo and already know i have to go back for another soon. maybe behind my ear and a small one on my ankle. that's all though. a piercing is next. someone asked me why the need for these things to be happy and i had to think hard about that, its not that i need these things to be happy, i'm happy. but i enjoy these rituals, marks of my development so to speak. 10 years ago i got a piercing after my divorce on a trip to new york with my son, now 10 years later the tatoo which ironically enough is just after my separation from my 2nd husband. i really need to stop waiting until after a split to honor my development ha ha not really. just feels like the timing is right when one chapter of your life ends and another begins, i guess i don't want the chapters to be quite so long, 10 years is a long time to honor myself and my experiences.
well, i'm off to paint a wall in my room that has been waiting for 5 weeks. i'll paint the other wall at some point, hopefully not in five weeks.

went to a cma meeting last night to hear my friend's testimony. i met him 8 years ago while working at a bookstore and instantly connected on a spiritual level. he was fun, crazy, passionate about life, about living life to the fullest, outspoken, affectionate, hyper, hard working, distracted yet in the moment. he had so many stories, was young, trying to experience as much as possible and burning the candle at both ends. i felt deep compassion for his flight, his unquenchable thirst for pleasure, for instant gratification but at the same time i loved that about him, i loved that he wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind, wasn't afraid to take risks, he often invited me out to backstreet, kaya and other clubs that never closed. i could tell when he came in some mornings, he hadn't been to sleep all night long but yet he still managed to smile, give me a hug, make me laugh. my life at that time had little to no laughter. having moved to atlanta for a relationship, leaving my children in texas with my mom until i got a job, a place to live, i wasn't happy, i was feeling extremely guilty, selfish and yet all that i had run from in texas, obligation, a bad marriage, my support system via family and friends, everything i left behind, haunted me in atlanta. if i saw a family, all i could think of was how i had desserted mine, why wasn't i happy like them, why couldn't i be satisfied with the status quo. anyway, my pity party was out of control so going to work where i had to focus on something beyond myself was good for me in a way, s could make me laugh, i could live vicariously through his crazy stories of picking up young guys in the bar and taking them out into the parking lot to f___. his boyfriend and him had a deal where they could have sex with other guys but couldn't kiss or something. i could see his lifestyle was hard and would take its toll on him eventually but knew it wasn't up to me to try to stop him or advise him. i knew he wouldn't stick around to listen so i just hung out with him when i could, listened to his tales and constantly asked him a million questions about his experiences. he loved to be on stage, to talk about his life and i loved to listen.
this is only the beginning of this story and i'll continue with it later but just wanted to write about the s i saw last night giving his testimony on a stool at the front of a large room filled with over 75 addicts (over 3/4s gorgeous gay men) tears falling from his eyes during the part about his lover that died and the guilt regarding his selfish behavior with his family and friends. his remorse, his forgiveness, his insightfulness, all a blessing to those in the room, his hope and faith that life is worth it. the one thing i'll take with me from last night was a quote he said his mom gave him that is hanging by his mirror, "bloom where you're planted" wow, i know like him, i've tried to run in my life, tried to find greener pastures, tried to get away from anything remotely related to my past, my beginnings, always have this idea of a better place, a utopia sort of, and after all of his near death experiences and the death of his lover and the death of his crazy lifestyle which ended up with prison time, he is back where he was planted in the little town he was born in. on 40 acres of land with his mom and step-father. loving it, loving the very things he ran from. he is safe right now. s, i love you, i love your spirit. i love that you never stop moving, never stop thinking, never stop loving those around you. i feel it in your presence, i see it in your eyes. i always remember your huge, warm, authentic hugs that i often paged you on the phone at work to come over and give me just when i needed to be held, to be touched, to be recognized. love you s!!!

A Room of One's Own

finally, i'm in my new apartment. have been since april 1st. just now getting comfortable enough to stay home and veg...
i love so much about it, hard wood floors, tall ceilings, arched doorway between living room and kitchen, lots and lots of windows, big front porch, 1920s house with 6 apartments total in it. so much to say but tired and not sure where to begin other than tonight was the first time i went for a jog in my neighborhood and ended up in downtown decatur by the coffee shop that i fell in love with 8 years ago which is how i discovered the city of decatur to begin with, a poetry reading on sunday night at java monkey.
the neighborhood is quaint, houses old and huge granny porches. people outside, walking dogs, kids, working in the yard etc.
i see a beginning here.

Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye

before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
what you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
how you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop.
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
you must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
you must wake up with sorrow.
you must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is i you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

i too recognize the time when everything you thought was true was not, everything you held on to was gone, with nowhere to turn, nothing to grasp, my heart surrendered to this gentleness, this slowness, this kindness to myself, to others to the world at large. there is a softness i can't describe in the way i walk, the way i talked even the way i moved my eyes from one side of the room to the other, a softness from surrender, from giving up, from not trying to see what i wanted to see, to make things what i wanted them to be, the softness of simply allowing the beingness of everything that surrounded me to be what it must, to be authentic. during this time in my life, i will create this intention to be gentle with myself, gentle with my surroundings, gentle in the knowing that things are as they should be, they couldn't be any other way, or they would. allow, allow, allow and breathe....

Need to pack

but don’t want to so am reading poetry instead, here’s something that touched me:

Sometimes a man (woman) by rainer maria rilke

sometimes a man (in this case woman) stands up during supper and walks outdoors, and keeps on walking, because of a church that stands somewhere in the East.

and his (her) children say blessings on him as if he were dead.

and another man (woman), who remains inside his own house, dies there, inside the dishes and int he glasses, so that his (her) children have to go far out into the world toward that same church, which he (she) forgot.


is that how it happens? one is just overcome with the urge or knowledge on some inner level that it is time to stand up and walk out the door. why now? why there? why me? but the urge to stand up and walk is stronger than the urge to stay in the same safe, comfortable place and die within those 4 walls that surround and stifle you. sometimes that is how it happens for me, i’m stuck, i’m stagnant, i’m in a rut and then something moves me, something inspires me, something speaks to me, something deep inside connects with something i must find and i stand up and start walking, to where, i know not of but i know i have to move in order to find it.

Love After Love by Derek Walcott

the time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here, eat.
you will love again the stranger who was your self.
give wine. give bread. give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your image from the mirror.
sit. feast on your life.

just read this poem before jumping into the shower and couldn't move for a minute. right here on this page it says to me that at some time i will recognize the one true thing, the one true love of my life, the one that knows me best, knows my strengths, my weaknesses, loves me just the same, patiently waits while i chase after dreams, after the illusion of love outside of myself. i'm back....

This Reminds Me of You

My mom sent this picture to me yesterday. She said she didn't know why but everytime she picked it up out of her collage pile, she thought of me and didn't use it as part of her collage. She kept putting it back and wanted to save it to show me. "I guess because it's so feminine" is why she thinks it reminds her of me.
Lately I haven't seen myself as feminine but exhibiting the character traits I would imagine are more "manly". I don't necessarily like the aggressiveness that seems easier to exhibit but somehow it feels like a better fit. I have been trying to go back in my life to see where this pushiness or bluntness started and I can pretty much see it started in small ways while I was going through my divorce from my first husband and father of my two children. We'd met while I was 15 and in high school, he had dropped out and was working full time at 19. Maybe not having a father figure, having a mother that worked all day and played with her art, her girlfriends, her new husband, made me want some control, some stability, someone to watch over me for a change. He was just that, jealous, controlling and always wanted to know where I was, who I was with and what I was doing. Eventually, he chased my friends away one by one, I guess I should say I didn't work at those relationships due to the stress of answering to him so they withered. I was pregnant by February of my 15th year and gave birth to my beautiful son in November, 2 months after my 16th birthday.
Rather quickly I slid into what I thought was my purpose in life, being a good wife, being a good mom, listening and watching for other's wants and needs and making sure I fulfilled them. If anything went wrong in the family, I took the blame and tried to make it better. After five years with only one child, I decided I didn't want him to be an only child like myself so we had another baby, she was welcomed into our family and the girl I'd always wanted to dress up in bows and ribbons. Funny how she was a tomboy and only wanted to be like her big brother of 6 years in jeans and t-shirts, except for the purple Disney Aladdin outfit that she insisted on wearing with red cowboy boots, yikes...
After many nightmares and dreams of getting lost in school hallways, I decided I really wanted to get my GED and go to the community college. It was scary and all but I was doing it as much for my children, to set an example that you're never to old to get an education, as I was for my self-esteem.
There is more but as you can see, this life I'd tried so hard to live, a wife and mother above all else, above my own dreams, desires, fantasies, was destined to come crashing down as I come from a long lineage of strong women, creative souls, my mother the artist and free spirit had planted seeds that eventually would sprout but before these seeds could break the surface, they had to be watered.

To Esme

just finished a book titled the vanishing act of esme lennox and found it such a coincidence, although i don't really believe in coincidences, that i had chose one of my favorite short stories from college to read aloud at my "friday night art group" and that very story is sited in the reading guide to the vanishing act of esme lennox. i didn't know that they were connected on paper but it my mind, they were because i had chose to share the short story "the yellow wallpaper" by charlotte perkins gilman before i picked the book up. what attracted me to the book was the similar theme of the mistreatment of women. how if they didn't comply with the current social mores, they were put away, into an asylum or worse burned at the stake. this is a scary theme to me as i was brought up by a strong, independent artist mother that would have been burned had she been born back then. she was often called "joan of ark of the 60s" by her friends due to her rebelliosness and independent thinking. the book was a nice read, the pace was quick and i was anxious to find out what happened next. the characters were deep. it sometimes confused me because they went back and forth in time and between charactes without really explaining who was thinking or talking etc. but i figured it out eventually. i found esme's character interesting but iris, the young woman discovering her families history, was a little weak in regards to her behavior and relationships. she seemed to be floating along without any real intent as to where she wanted to go. kind of shame considering she came from such a strong lineage of women. i would recommend it for the sake of learning about how things were back then for women. it will make one appreciate our freedom today, to read what we want, write what we want, live with whom we want....

Lost

feeling a little lost this morning. sad. lonely. so much inside but nowhere to put it. no one i want to share it with. no one i feel truly wants to listen, to share in return, to take this feeling to the next level. so i'll sit with it. i'll feel it myself. i'll cry. i'll dream. i'll fantasize. i'll regret. i'll wish. i'll create a space i can survive in for now. until it comes back again.i am reading a book titled - the seven stairs: an adventure of the heart by stuart brent. it is about a man with a dream and an obsession with books. it is about his opening a book store in chicago and striving to make it what he envisions as an intellectual, creative meeting place for authors, readers, publishers and everything in between. he shares his struggles and his success and we meet many characters that come into his life, some to buy books, some to write books, some to fund his endeavors, some to try to control him, others to give him a means to flourish and others to ignite the fire within him to keep pursuing his dream.i'm enjoying it. some parts a little slower than others but overall, i love books about books and the book industry so i can't complain. i find that i love reading most things written from a book lover like myself as we are a little weird and have a slightly different way of looking at the world. our priorities are a little skewed towards buying a book versus paying a utility bill.