"The more joy we have the more nearly perfect we are."

-Benedict De Spinoza

Thanksgiving

I had a really great Thanksgiving. Perhaps, or definately I should say, the best of my life.

I set some boundaries with my ex-husband and told him we needed to stick to the schedule because we had some last minute changes. My uncle was supposed to host Thanksgiving, but came down with the flu the day before, so we moved it to my house Wednesday night.

One of my other uncles called me that night sounding drunk and wanting to pick a fight. I just hung up and didn't return his calls. I told my mom he was not welcome at my house.

I have worked too hard for peace. No one is going to take it from me, including my own blood.

The kids went with their dad for a few hours that morning and I cooked and cleaned away. It was a small group, but everyone pitched in and it just flowed really well. The food was great - not outstanding by any means, but it was just a fabulous and relaxing day. No drama. No stress.

This morning, we went to get our Christmas Tree. I was a bit worried about this because we have a high ceiling and I wanted to get a good sized tree. I considered asking my ex, but decided it was time to start making our own traditions. The guys at the farm tied the tree to the top of the car and my son and I were able to take it off and get it inside and into the stand without any stress or cursing. It was the first time I have felt joy decorating the tree and not a sense of stress or rushing to finish. The house is now clean and beautiful and smells like Christmas.

All is well in my world.

What to do?

I am really missing my moms mom. I had a cooking disaster on Saturday and all I could think was I was she was here so I could call her.

It seems that everyone has their Thanksgiving plans but I just feel sort of lost without my grandmas here. They gave everything a purpose. My dad and his wife just decided to go to the beach. My mom's family will get together at my grandmas house where my uncle still lives. I called to coordinate with him Saturday and her voice was still on the machine. It nearly broke me.

Finding Joy

We got through the weekend without too much drama, which was all I was hoping for.

I feel deeply saddened however that we are back to survival mode.

I want to do so much more than just survive.

It struck me yesterday just how much I have lost in these last 8 years.

My face is worn and tired. I know that beauty is not everything. But, I still wish I had not wasted my best years without sleep, love or proper companionship. And I regret that there was so much pain, tears and solitude.

I want to be able to have a "normal" relationship. And I have not been able to do that even now that I am divorced because so much of my energy is directed at my ex-husband and figuring out how to protect my children.

I want my children to do more than survive. I want them to thrive. I want them to know joy and laughter. The carefree days of childhood. I want them to laugh, to play and to have fun.

I want to read more. I want to write more. I want to have a fulfilling career. I want to learn how to play the piano and speak other languages. I want to travel.

I want to live.

Today, I did my Kundalini Yoga and then I taught myself how to play a hymn we sang at church on the piano. It is taking me a long time, but I can slowly play when I try. Music brings so much joy. I want to have a happy home.


God of the sparrow God of the whale
God of the swirling stars
How does the creature say Awe
How does the creature say Praise

God of the earthquake God of the storm
God of the trumpet blast
How does the creature cry Woe
How does the creature cry Save

God of the rainbow God of the cross
God of the empty grave
How does the creature say Grace
How does the creature say Thanks

God of the hungry God of the sick
God of the prodigal
How does the creature say Care
How does the creature say Life

God of the neighbor God of the foe
God of the pruning hook
How does the creature say Love
How does the creature say Peace

God of the ages God near at hand
God of the loving heart
How do your children say Joy
How do your children say Home

Fear

"When I dare to be powerful - to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid".

- Audre Lorde

Another Relapse

I found that my ex had relapsed on Tuesday and am back to fighting for my kids. This means we will have to go back to court in January.

I spent all week organizing, documenting and filing the mountain of paperwork. Yesterday I saw the judge. Until we go back to court, it is up to me to enforce the sobriety agreement in our divorce decree.

If I could do it over again I would have been firmer in the negotiations from the get-go and not given him any benefit of the doubt. He has not earned benefit of the doubt.

But now I am back to fighting, which is really draining. So this time, I will collect myself and fight for it all. And I will finish it for good.

My body feels beat up again. My back feels like it is broken. I am back to too many Excederines and Ibuprofens to manage the pain, which then upsets my stomach. This week, I had to push through to protect my children. But I took care of myself last night by inviting a friend over who is in a similar situation with her kids, having some good girl time and a good meal.

It's important for the kids to be around each other because they are all feeling the affects of divorce and addiction. I want to sever some of their feelings of isolation and alienation. The kids break my heart. I know I have to fight for them. When I am too tired and I want to give up I remind myself, I have to fight for them. I have to fight like all of our lives depend on it.

Today I went to the chiropractor, accupuncture and gym. I have to get my body to relax. This stress is not sustainable. It is breaking me down.

I decided that I don't have to give in to anything anymore. I don't have to put up with my ex. There won't be any more compromises or feeling sorry for him. We have had over 8 years of that. I am taking back my life and demanding safety and fairness for my children.

Always On Your Side

My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
But every now and then you come to mind
'Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side.

Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
But your demons and your angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought you'd be
Leaving me with no place left to go from here
Leavin' me with so many questions all these years.

Is there some place far away, some place where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wander, all alone, eternally
Is this really how it's really meant to be?
Well is it how it's really meant to be?

Well they say that love is in the air, but never is it clear,
How to pull it close and make it stay
If butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away?
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side.

Is there some place far away, some place where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are we left to wander, all alone, eternally?
Is this really how it's really meant to be?
Well is it how it's really meant to be?

Well they say that love is in the air, never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away?
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
Was it you that kept me wandering through this life?
When you know that I was always on your side.

- Sheryl Crow

Being Clear About Desires - Getting What We Want

The best way to get what we want from life is to first know what we want. If we haven't taken the time to really understand and identify what would truly make us happy, we won't be able to ask for it from those around us or from the universe. We may not even be able to recognize it once it arrives. Once we are clear about what we want, we can communicate it to those around us. When we can be honest about who we are and what we want, there is no need to demand, be rude or aggressive, or manipulate others that are involved in helping us get what we want. Instead, we know that we are transmitting a signal on the right frequency to bring all that we desire into our experience.

As the world evolves, humanity is learning to work from the heart. We may have been taught that the way to get what we want is to follow certain rules, play particular games, or even engage in acts that use less than our highest integrity. The only rules we need to apply are those of intention and connection. In terms of energy, we can see that it takes a lot of energy to keep up a false front or act in a way that is counter to our true nature, but much less energy is expended when we can just be and enjoy connections that energize us in return. Then our energy can be directed toward living the life we want right now.

Society has certain expectations of behavior and the roles each of us should play, but as spiritual beings we are not bound by these superficial structures unless we choose to accept them. Instead, we can listen to our hearts and follow what we know to be true and meaningful for us. In doing so, we will find others who have chosen the same path. It can be easy to get caught up in following goals that appear to be what we want, but when we pursue the underlying value, we are certain to stay on our right path and continue to feed our soul.

by Stephanie Renée

My Lost Youth

Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the black wharves and the slips,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs in my memory still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o'er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay,
Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I can see the breezy dome of groves,
The shadows of Deering's Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song,
It flutters and murmurs still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy's brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"It matters not who you love, where you love, why you love, when you love, Or how you love, It matters only that you love."

- John Lennon

Change

"There is a poem in my throat that is not yet ready to be born. But when it is, i guarantee you, it will change the world. At the very least, it will change me."

-Mark Gonzales

Wrong is not my Name

I am not wrong: Wrong is not my name
My name is my own my own my own


-June Jordan, Passion: New Poems, 1980

Veterans Day 2010: Honor the Consciences of Our Veterans

"Afghanistan is now in its tenth year, with no end in sight. Al Qaida isn't in Afghanistan anymore, and the war doesn't meet the criteria for just war. We need to end this war, and honor the consciences of those with the courage to stand up and say, 'I can't fight this war'."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VK0wSpD81wI

Different

Different because I choose to see/It is also whom the Creator created and needed me to be/Like buried treasure behind the mask of fear I was concealed/The reason for my being with each breath is revealed/I AM on time, in sync with love's rhythm and rhyme/I AM abundant and shining/I AM living the dream defined.

-Irradiance Theeinfinitefemme

Love

"How can someone tell you, 'I love you,' and then mistreat you and abuse you, humiliate you, and disrespect you?"

-Don Miguel Ruiz

"The most precious gift we can offer is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers."

- Thich Nhat Hanh

"Why not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is?"

- Frank ScullySee More

Most People

Most people love you for what they want you to be.
But you always loved me for me.
I can tell you the worst things about me,
And know, there will never be any judgment.
If I ask for advice, you will give it.
But if I just need to talk – or vent – I can.
And you won’t interrupt or tell me your two cents.

Most people say, we are wrong.
They want us to live as they live:
In distant relationships that are long dead
Without honesty, respect or even love.

But I say, of all the people I have ever known- or loved-
You are the only people who I know -
Who I know-
Will always love me.
(And not because they have to.)

All my life I have avoided being myself.
I have been a vision of what my parents, my sisters, my grandparents, my friends, my church, or “society” has wanted me to be.
I did not even know who I was or who I am or what I “should” become.

I was afraid, always afraid.
Of gaining weight, of farting, or not being pretty enough…
But there is always something to be afraid of, and not enough people to hold you and tell you it will be alright.

The worst lie is the one you tell yourself.
Conforming to someone else’s vision of you.
Not trusting, even yourself.

We all need someone to believe in us.
We all need someone to ask if we are ok?
We all need someone to love us, as we are.

And most people, do not have that.

But I do, in you.

Truth is

"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for."

-Bob Marley

Over the Rainbow

I saw this perfect rainbow today after leaving church so I stopped to take a picture. A promise of better things to come, I think.

Pretty

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother “What will I be? Will I be pretty? ” Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill of fluorescent floodlight of worry.

“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty? But puberty left me this funhouse mirror: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long, and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting - my poor mother.

“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist.” “You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! ” “You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were six, otherwise your nose would have been just fine!”

Don’t worry; we will get it all fixed she would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that as if it were a cabbage she might buy. But, this is not about her. Not her fault she, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable façade.

By sixteen I was pickled by ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs, laying in a hospital bed. Face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.

Belly gorged on two pints of my own blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut, like my body screaming at me from the inside out “What did you let them do to you? ” All the while, this never ending chorus groaning on and on like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood.

“Will I be pretty? ” Will I be pretty like my mother, unwinding the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.

And now I have not seen my own face in ten years. I have not seen my own face in ten years, but this is not about me! This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl thirty stores in six malls to find the right cocktail dress, but who haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how to wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath the tyranny of those two pretty syllables.

About men wallowing on barstools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight crestfallen tonight because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.

This, this, is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? ” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer NO.

The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters. You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing, but you will never be merely “pretty.”

-Katie Makkai


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6wJl37N9C0

"No matter what you say in all your anger and brokenness and rage, it’s not mine to keep, it’s not mine to carry, and I won’t."

- Isa Elmazoski

Arguing

I have not felt much like writing lately. I have been busy - mostly with my kids. They have a lot of days off school lately and I have enjoyed the extra time with them.

I still miss my grandma very much. I often forget that she has died and then remember sadly that I can't call her or stop by.

One thing that I have been reflecting on lately though is how short life is and how much time we waste.

I regret all the times I was wallowing in my own miserable marriage. I wish I had spent more time with both my grandmothers and my friends.

But more than anything, I regret times arguing with anyone. Arguing is such a draining life-sucker. I don't want to do it anymore. Sometimes you just can't come to terms with someone and the best thing is just to wish them well and move on.

I have spent far too much time in my life trying to make relationships work with people because of the length of our relationship or because they were family.

Formula Female

"By the time they are seventeen many young women have surrendered their ambitions to a growing need for affection and their autonomy to an emotional dependence on the approval and good will of others. At seventeen the young woman is well on her way to being a formula female."

- Madonna Kolbenschlag, Kiss Sleeping Beauty Good-bye