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Break up.  That’s what the spring thaw in the Far North Land is often called.  Break up.  These two words encompass everything from the literal breaking up of sheets of thick ice to the gradual thawing of the mountains of dirty snow to the constant dripping of icicles from snow laden rooftops.

And then there is the gradual thaw or re-awakening of sun starved spirits.  In my case, not so much a break up as a slow unfurling of spirit shriveled & curled tight against the frigid temperature & darkness.  An audible sigh escapes my lips as I dare take in deep breaths of spring air without fear of frostbiting my lungs.  A turned up face to the blue sky & light that now stretches well into the evening hours.

Every spring finds me tripping on gratitude for having survived another winter.  A heart’s thanksgiving that the gradual thaw is progressing & taking me along for the ride.

2015.

I’ve been away, elsewhere and not here since 2015.  Or the last time I was here, the calendar year was 2015.

And now I must re-familiarize myself on how to even post an entry.  Learn all of the new fancy bells & whistles of the blogging world.  Who am I kidding?  The most I will probably do is figure out how to add an entry.  At least for now, unless I re-commit to daily (or almost) posts.

While being not here for the past two years I have been a busy bee & much living & multiple adventures have washed under the proverbial bridge or down the river & multiple new moons have transitioned to full ones.  The most significant changes & life events have been moving out of state & then back again within a 12-month cycle.  Beginning a new job, accepting a promotion & then immediately resigning from said promotion within a month & returning to the ‘home’ state.  Within that 12-month period, I also lived in three different rentals, committed to the last rental & began putting down roots.  Literally.  Succulents were purchased, repotted & ultimately re-homed.  Furniture & home furnishings bought & assembled as needed & within three months, released.

Yes.  The Big Purge of Material Possessions took place, AGAIN.

Another very long Road Trip happened, AGAIN.

Reason?

My daughter’s medical emergency.  She needed her mama.  My daughter needed me.  And so…

And seven months later, I remain a virtual stranger in familiar surroundings & homeless to boot.  Not in the literal sense of the word I suppose as I have had a roof over my head & even my own bathroom as I have been existing (aka living) in my ex-partner’s whom I am still legally married to, condo. I have not worked or earned any money for the past seven+ months. My biggest accomplishment has been surviving the last seven+ months.

Huge. This accomplishment. Very large. Being still alive. Humongous. Weathering grief, winter’s frigid darkness.

Today I can believe spring has arrived or at the very least is well on its way. I can believe that Old Man Winter cannot & most importantly, will not, last forever. Today the return from a long long hibernation continues, fueled by renewed energy & long daylight hours. Ahhhh, yes. The light has returned to the Far North Land. Finally.

And I begin the preparations for or at the very least the hope of leaving ‘home’ once again. Yep. Yup. Affirmative. Yes. This tumbling tumbleweed is hoping to move, to blow this pop stand, to relocate, to begin anew, to head down the old highway. AGAIN.

A second job interview, this one in person, is scheduled in three weeks in a faraway place. I am on the path to a new adventure. AGAIN.

Life.

Horizons. New.

AGAIN.

that’s what Natalie Goldberg, my favorite of all time writer gurus says, just write.  Just do it, man.  or in my case, woman.  Put pen to paper.  Finger tips to keyboard.  Pencil to cardboard.  Fingers to the air.  Just do it.  Right now.  Right here.  No excuses.  No stopping.  No monkey mind.   That’s what Goldberg calls that part of our brain that distracts us and pulls us right and left up and down and then all zig zaggy.  When all the time, our original intention was to sit down and write out a page or two or ten or the poem of our life.

This Saturday evening, I am attending a Literary Salon.  Sounds fancy, huh?  At least it does to me.  I joined a local writer’s group earlier this year, it could have been last year, it was in the dark months of winter that much I remember.  I am not much of a joiner in the way of joining groups.  I used to be.  A joiner of political groups.  I railed against all sorts of human injustices and fought hard for human and individual rights for a long long time.  And then I grew weary.

Back to my current subject of the fancy sounding upcoming Literary Salon.  I am excited.  Nervous.  But more excited.  The event is being held at someone’s home whom I have never met.  And here’s the really cool and brave part, I volunteered to read some of my writing.   The organizers were looking for 10 volunteers to read 5 minutes of their work.  Since most of my essays are more than two pages long, I quickly decided to read a few selections from my body of erotica poetry.  That is, until I spoke with the main organizer who informed me that there will be children present.  Good to know.  So onto Plan B.  or Actually C.

I have chosen four other poems to read and have been practicing the timing of the reading and introduction to the pieces to fit within the five minute allotment.  Five minutes goes by really fast!

This will be good for me.  Meeting other writers.  Being inspired by their work in progress.  Sharing a part of myself that has been dormant for far too long.

So I have returned to my roots and busted out my beloved guru’s books, Writing Down the Bones and Wild Mind.  They have inspired me for many years and continue to remind me of my first love ~ words, writing and the telling of stories.  Utter bliss.  Just write.  So right.

already here.  the day that was yesterday that was meant to be the other day so that I could write a post on my blog today two days ago.  but it, the day, or more aptly put, the days already have passed.  so quickly.  they are gone.  history.

And so it is

that I am here in this moment writing that I am still here in the blogosphere.  That my blog is always in my heart and never far from my conscious thoughts.  Even when those thoughts and ideas and emotions and happenings and daily minutia and big deals and little ordeals don’t make it onto the screen ~ I am still here.

And so it is

that autumn has returned to the Land of Already Freezing Ground North Land.  The past few days have gifted us with glorious sun.  Golden sun rays that followed weeks of record rain fall, and record windstorms and flooding.

And so it is

that the sun is loved and beloved and cherished

by me.

Big news ~ that little diddy.

And so it is

that I am pleased to write some words on this first day of October.  to write some words on any day actually.  just glad.

When the missing out weighs the dragging of the feet, then I return.  Please consider yourself missed my dear little faithful blog.  The trite phrase that you are never far from my thoughts and always in my heart, is true.  The ensuing guilt of my absence when prolonged, true as well.

I have suffered physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually with an ongoing vertigo condition that has had me by what some state crudely the “short and curlies’ for almost two years.  I have been on a new regiment of medication and yesterday passed a milestone test at my specialist’s office of being able to lie down without a vertigo attack being triggered.  This my dear blog was, and is, huge in the life of me.

Last night was a rough one rest wise as I had a tough time trusting the process as the last time I attempted to truly lie down to sleep, I ended up in the emergency room due to the extreme nature of the vertigo attack.  So I experimented a lot with different angles and never did quite allow myself to totally lie flat.  That’s okay.  I can ease into this new “old” way of sleeping.  Just the fact that lying horizontally is now an option is a miracle that still has me in a bit of a humbled stunned state.

How long this will last or what comes next with the vertigo condition, I do not know.  That little saying of “one day at a time” seems very appropriate here.  For now, I am thanking the Universe, my Birth Day Gods and Goddesses (as that was my birth day wish as I blew out my candle), Annie Rosa Lee Dog’s spirit and my Guardian Angels that be for this respite and/or total healing.

All of that and a gorgeous blue skied day with an abundance of sunny rays.

Life is good, my friend.  Sweet.  Just like a cool glass of Southern tea.

Touch me.

Now.

please,

not tomorrow

nor in a moment,

but now.

Here.  In the here and the right there

and now.

Touch

me.

@junemoon 2012

My journey continues with me along for the ride.  At times, I am a stroller ~ meandering along, taking little detours here and there, following my heart, listening for the mermaid’s whisper.  Other days, I push my foot down on the pedal and blast down the highway, shouting obscenities at my slower moving travelers, giving them the middle finger while I weave in and out of traffic always seeking the fast lane.

Today, I am doing my laundry.  Attending to the mundane.  Sorting and sifting through bunches of stuff while searching for certain needed paperwork, an employment badge, two beloved pair of earrings that have somehow up and gotten themselves misplaced (damned cheeky of them if you ask me), researching Vitamixers, and upcoming schedules for a certain motivational speaker guru, and doing a bit of online shopping for Buddhist prayer bead necklaces and leather bracelets.

Life has been a journey this summer.  Changes have been afoot.  I am still me.  But I am a changed and changing me.  Meaning, life is unfolding as usual.

I have missed my blog.  So I have returned.

with each other.  You dirty dirt bags.  Medical doctors!  Jeeesh!  Make up your ever loving supposed to be brainiac minds.  already.

Unfair, you say?  Sobeit.  I respond.

Surgery.  No surgery.  This medication.  No.  That medication.

Meanwhile, my Bastard Buddy Vertigo is still living up in my house.  Sleeping in my bed.  Forcing me to sleep sitting up.  Going on 19 months now.  I hate his guts!

My absence from my blog has been due to my physical health related problems.  That, and my ensuing depression.  All of which have gotten me to the place I am today ~ inside the House of Truth.  At least The House of Truth as I know it today, in this moment at this particular juncture in time, at this fork of this road.

I have returned to therapy.  About time.  That’s right.  About motherfucking time.  Or would that be about mother fucking time?  Whatever.  It is time.  And I am doing it.  Not fucking.  Not even fucking around ~ not this time.  I am participating in therapy in a different way than ever I have done before two weeks ago.

Meaning?  I am raw.  real.  no pretenses.  no good girl persona.  no bad girl disguise.  defenses, gone baby gone.  Why?  How?  Why now?  I am just ready.  That.  And writing a check for $175 for a 50 minute hour seems to keep me on point.  Cuts through the bullshit.  Stops the spin before the tales get spun, if you receive my meaning.  And I hope she does.  My treating psychologist that is.

50 shades of grey.  50 ways to leave a lover.  50 episodes of whodunit.  50 ways to lose a life.

50 megawatts of power.  outage.  ongoing.  no end in sight. 

50  methods to one’s madness. 

Fifty.  Ways.

April 2017
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