You are currently browsing the monthly archive for December, 2007.
On the eve of the new calendar year, the day is being spent quietly. I am settling back into my center. Listening. To my inner voices and to whatever the Universe might have to share with me today.
time spent
reflecting assessing evaluating listening planning accepting praying listening observing moving into gratitude letting go creating space listening breathing consulting tarot cards listening cooking cleaning small bursts of human interaction walking rituals welcoming blessing being ~
~ [image courtesy of Google images]
I would if I could scrape up the required
postage.
Maybe I will use that trick of just writing
not at this address
somewhere on my person and go stand at the downtown post
office.
I figure eventually something would happen, right?
But wait…
I am both the sender and the sendee.
Damnit!
@junemoon 2007
Today is my last day here in the year 2007. Tomorrow morning I am scheduled to begin my journey back to where I live when I am not here; here, with my familia and friends with whom I share long histories ~ theirs and mine. My mind has already begun the process of returning. The past several nights and mornings it has been occupying itself with post-doctoral internship application preparations and dissertation revisions and best clinical practice models. Up until yesterday, this subject brain (mine) has refused to think about or even worry (too much) about life other than right here. But here will soon be there and far away.
This leave taking hurts. It is hard. And yet, unless some unforeseen freak of nature or just unexpected nature occurs, I will indeed, leave. I will leave here. I will leave my family. I will leave my friends.
Where am I headed? To what do I return? Does the goal remain viable? even attainable? But wait, I am here. Still. I have today and tonight, here. Before the returning begins.
mother daughter mother
daughters
mothers
love daughters
pine quietly, mothering
mothering daughters
daughters follow
after
them
trailing motherdaughter lineages.
with face about face side-by-side across fences North South front-to-back
face-to-face.
*
these mothers
once daughters
mother daughters
become mothers ~
with or without faces.
remember mine
please.
@junemoon 2007
Do you like that word? Particularly, when it is dropped into a sentence, usually toward the beginning of what is to come after that word seriously? Something like this, No, I mean seriously what were you thinking? or Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding [me]!
So now I ask you Seriously, do you like the word seriously?
I think my liking of this particular word is lessening over time even though I continue its use. It’s serious (the root word of the instant word) overuse. How often do I say seriously in a 24-hour period? I am going to do my best to answer this question today. Why? The answer is I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t.
is everything.
Except when it is
not.
Enough
to fix my broken heart.
@junemoon 2007
Not just any story. One with a happy ending please. Not the kind of story that makes one stop, ponder, and reflect. Tell me a narrative that pulls me in and then makes me smile with wonder and delight. That kind of story. It might have to be a fairy tale of sorts as the real life kind of chronicle takes too much out of me.
Tell me the story of my life. Make it happy. Lively it up. Gloss it over. And tell it to me using your poet’s voice.
One day I will do the same for you.
I promise.
here in the Frozen Northland. Mother Nature cooperated with a fresh snow last night, leaving the trees with a new dusting of the fluffy white stuff. As for me and the famdamily, we greeted the morning dark (vs bright) and early, gathering under our 17 foot Christmas tree and enjoying the age old tradition of opening gifts. I then headed into the kitchen where I remained until right this very moment. I am cooking dinner for 16 folks and there are lots and lots of tasty treats in store for our hungry tummies, including a homemade cherry pie and a homemade blueberry pie. Yum!
I am blessed to be here with my family. Happy Holiday wishes to everyone!
So day before yesterday I am in the toy department of a national merchant pretending that I am Santa’s Helper of Sock Fillers (you’d have to read an earlier post to fully receive the meaning and I would link to it here if I knew how) when I randomly picked up an 8-ball. I did what any person familiar with an 8-ball would do, I shook it around upside down, of course, and asked it if we would have a peaceful family Christmas celebration this year (my previous post explained that the reason I was at the national merchant was to flee a family fracas and turn Santa’s sleigh around to Merry again), flipped the ball over and read “doubtful.”
Then like most people who don’t like the 8-ball’s answer, I asked a clarifying question of would there be a family fight at Christmas, answer “most likely.” Then I did what a person should not do ~ ever, I laughed in the 8-ball’s face, shook it around some more and put it back on the merchant’s shelf. I then called my daughter, urrr I mean Santa’s Other Helper of Sock Fillers, and told her my questions and 8’s answers, and then OMG are you ready? We both laughed ~ out loud.
Okay, fast forward to night before last. Big fight. Big fight between sisters. Big fight between sisters at Christmas.
It looks like Big Old 8-Ball had the last laugh. But wait, Christmas isn’t over yet… OMG! Run for cover is all I am a sayin’.
How is it that a person’s name can bring me to my knees? Completely knock me over by a wall of grief, anger, and bitterness. I guess it is not so much the name but the memory that floods in when I hear it. And then again, I have heard the name before and not had the immediate gut wrenching visceral reaction. I guess what was different last night was that it came out of no where, this name being flung out, and I saw it coming just a millisecond too late.
This name belongs to a woman, H, who many years ago cut me to the emotional quick and then dug around a little just for good measure. I was attending my adoptive father’s funeral and in a raw state. Primed, if you will, or the perfect target for a hate-full intention to find its mark, if you won’t. H shot her arrow and it found its mark. I have carried the wound and then the scar since that day and the ensuing days marked with a grief so great that I doubted my ability to remain afloat.
H re-entered my life several years ago when my adoptive mother died. She was still packing her bundle of poison arrows and her aim remained dead on. This time, I did not crumble but I did suffer substantial wounds which are still in the scabbing over stages. Mostly, I treat them with the salve of denial and fuhgettaboutit.
Last night, my sister reminded me of her very own set of poison arrows as she took one out of its quiver, dipped it in her fear of closeness and dipped it again in H’s well of spite, took aim, and released it, with mean glee. My sister is an expert archer.
This morning I am praying for the wisdom, strength, and forgiveness to release what is not mine to deny the hunters their prey and to meet aggression with compassion. For it is true that I have enough experience with my sister and H to not have walked so close to their hunting ground. It is also true that I can choose to pull the arrow out, clean and dress my wound, seek spiritual guidance, and move forward. Today my mantra is ~ I am a strong and forgiving woman and the light of the Universe is with me. Powerful words. Powerful mantra.
My task for the day is to step into this Power and reclaim my center. Come on junemoon, you can do it you can do it you can do it you can do it you are strong you are a woman you are forgiving there is a Universal Light. Come on, this way junemoon ~
