Receptacle

Receptacle: a container, device, that receives or holds something.

*bowl, box, holder, hopper, repository, vessel, wastebasket*

This word, receptacle, has been reverberating around in my head off and on for months now. It would fade away for a bit, but eventually it returned, one day quite piercingly. The thought in my head "You are just a receptacle..."

There have been many times throughout my adult life when I thought of myself as a receptacle. A vessel to hold others wanted and unwanted items.

When a small child has intrusted me to hold some small item they treasure, I feel honored in their trust.

When someone has a today-was-a-bad-day epic to tell me, or a sad woeful story to tell, or tears to spill and I become that needed receptacle for their anquish and pain, I again feel honored in their trust.

When someone has had an I-have-been-pondering-this story, or an epiphany, a stroke of utter brilliance, an I-had-the-most-amazing-thing-happened-to-me tale to tell, I am honored, pleased, joyful to be the needed receptacle.


But I have also had times when I felt as if I was a repository for someone's debris, a container for their residuum, or worse yet, deemed worthy for nothing but the very minor leavings of their life. ( I really hate that feeling)



I have this image of the receptacle I would like to be, actually images, I think I would be a large well-rounded wooden bowl with a slightly inward curving lip, aged golden oak in color, my edges smoothed from the oils of fingers and wrists that have slid over me to recapture some item that I have been holding in trust. Perhaps a few cracks or fissures appear on my surface, from age and use. But none are deep or detrimental to my usefulness. A receptacle that bore the items entrusted to me for safekeeping with love, honor, and protection until they could be retrieved.

The Case of the Missing Ham

Time to experience the lighter side of my life.

The house was suffused with the warmth of a clove-studded ham baking in the oven most of the afternoon.

Half of it was enjoyed by the family late this afternoon, except for me, I missed dinner, I was out running errands. Upon my return, I went into the kitchen looking for the ham. It wasn't in the refrigerator, wasn't sitting on any of the counters, or the table.

So I of course asked, "Where's the ham? There's no way you all could've eaten the entire thing!"

"I don't know", from Mr. Son.

"I didn't eat any", from Miss Daughter.

"I thought you put it away", from Him.

"But, I just got home", from me.

One more thorough search in the fridge. Scanning the countertops, finally spying the empty platter in the sink, I again asked, "Okay, really, where is the ham?"

More shrugging of shoulders and puzzled looks.

"Cat could have gotten up there, but he couldn't have eaten all of it, he's way too small to have eaten that much."

"No it had to be Dog, there is no way Cat ate it! No way!"

"Dog's too old, his hips are too bad, no, he can't jump to counter heighth to get to the platter."

"Well, it's gone, any other theories?"

The only scenario possible, Cat is very capable of jumping up on the counter, has been shooed off many times.

Dog and Cat made a plan, completely Cat's idea, we know this, Dog is a chicken kinda guy, he would steal chicken, but ham is something he can take or leave. Cat loves food, he would eat all of the time if we allowed it.

Cat convinces Dog to keep watch for the pets, if a pet comes downstairs Dog is too give one of his whining tail wagging welcomes. Giving Cat time enough to jump down from the counter without being caught....he detests being called, Bad Kitty!

Dog agrees, on the condition that Cat drop pieces of ham over the side for him. The deal is made, paws are shaken.

How to prove this theory?

The clues: Two animals with extremely full, round bellies. Two animals in the very deepest of sleeps, a type of sleep that overindulgence brings on. Two animals that have the strangest of relationships.

Cat became the privileged indoor cat because he was orphaned at only a few days old. Even though we humans fed him, Dog was his mother, his playmate, his toy, his bed. Cat has spent months nibbling, biting, sharpening his claws, and pouncing on Dog. His favorite game is to wrap his paws around Dog's tail and ride it as the huge otter-like tail thumps on the floor in a happy wag. Cat runs, jumps and attacks Dogs feet as he makes his slow way across the rooms.
Dog allows this, has always allowed this from Cat.

Dog from puppyhood to now has never liked cats, in fact there were many years that we had to make sure Dog was watched at all times in the spring when the kittens would be brought outside the barn to experience the sun-warmed concrete entrance to the barn. Dog's hunting instincts seemed to take control of him at the first small mewling from a kitten, several kittens were found barely alive from the rapid shaking they received from young Dog.

Even though Dog is now 11, and has arthritus in his hips, which has considerably slowed him down. We were still quite wary of Dog and Cat being alone together when Cat was an infant, Cat was never allowed out of his crate unless a human was in the room also. But we soon became lax in our rules, because Dog never ever attempted to harm Cat, no matter how annoying Cat could become, and trust me, when he is in one of his "moods" the cat is a flashing ball of fur and claws.

Case closed, they ate the ham.

Shattered Hearts

This became another soul-searching post, my thoughts can't seem to escape that much anymore.

1/28/07 Something in me has to add, when I write of my marriage, this is my truth, my reality as I feel it now, today, my husband has his own story, and I am very sure it is very different from my own. (Am I still protecting him? Maybe, but I really just want those who read this to remember it takes two to make a marriage, as each come to it from a different perspective, different pre-relationship lives, memories, and demons.)


Standing in the shower this morning, surrounded by steam and warmth, enjoying the streams of hot water beating down on my body, my mind following the strangest tangents. Rather melancholy tangents, those thoughts meandering through my mind.

Thoughts of the heartbreak from a relationship ending that so many I know have gone through. Heartbreak? That isn't what they feel. It isn't heartbreak, that word is not strong enough to describe what they have gone/are going through. When I think of something broken, I imagine a crack that can be repaired, there may be a small line still showing where the repair was made, but it is in most definitions of the word repaired, fixed, usable.

These people I am writing of are not just heartbroken, they are heartshattered. They have fissures of pain in their souls.

So many I have watched, listened to, read. When I think of them, it is not a break that can be quickly repaired, the pieces of their hearts do not mend easily, it takes a lot of time, effort, adjustments, sometimes pieces seem to be lost, and long moments must be spent searching to find those missing pieces. Occasionally all the pieces are not found, and there is a small hole left. The attempt was made, and life goes on, but they can still feel that missing piece.

From these thoughts I moved to my own relationship, I am heartbroken, but not heartshattered. I am trying desperately to protect myself from that. I am trying desperately to protect my husband from that. Why? Fear of not finding all the pieces of me again, but mostly the fear of shattering His life. There are many other reasons, but that is one of the biggest of them.

Back to my meandering steam-filled thoughts.......it went something this;

"I could pretend, I could do it, I can, if I focus solely on pretending that I love Him, focus solely on working at this marriage, I could do it. I could save Him/myself from that heartshattering."


"Are you crazy?!? You tried that once before, it didn't work, you lost you. You suffered more inner anguish than you could contain."

"He would feel that it was pretending, He may accept it because He thinks that is what He wants, but He would know, deep in his heart, deep in his soul He would know. He would still be in pain. Eventually we would both be pretending. I don't want that."

Then I relaxed again, wondering why that thought even entered my brain. Because it would be the ultimate in cruelty, to him, to me.

But it is fear, that is what brought it on, fear of hurting, fear of causing such intense harm to another.

We are connected on so many levels, we have grown up together, our lives are interwoven, much of me cannot be separated from him, it never will be, even if from this day forward, if I never saw him again, never communicated with him again, we are attached. Not just through our children. It is much more than that.

He has helped shape who I have become, as much as my parents did, as much as my siblings and the other important beings in my life have. But more so. I have been with this man since I was 17 years old.

Within months I knew that we did not belong together, I left, or tried to leave his life then. Several things made me go back, our friends telling me how very unhappy He was, his family telling me, my family telling me. My own grandmother telling me. All of that, in addition to my age, my then fears, made me go back. I ignored my misgivings each step along our journey together. So much ignoring, so much burying away of the truth I knew to be. Eventually we had children, one more reason to keep us together, my beliefs for so long being that my children deserved to grow-up in a two parent household. Observing the lives of other children from divorced families only seemed to give weight to my theory.

So, I tried with all that was in me to be a good wife, an exemplary mother. I tried, at different points I would begin to feel lost, but I would always find a way to get back on the right path, almost.

Throughout the many years we have been together a series of events have occurred, several years apart that have led me to my now.

The first...the birth of my daughter. I was not supposed to have a daughter.

I never accepted the fact that it could even be a possibility.

(As an aside; during my pregnancies I dreamed. In those dreams of caring for my babies, when I carried my son, I always dreamed of a boy child, when I carried my daughter, I always dreamed of a girl child. I knew she was coming into my life, I just couldn't face it. Their features were always quite clear to me, it still amazes me that they both looked so much like the children in my dreams)

At the birth of my daughter, many things happened, mostly the inner rage I had buried so long was released. Thus, I had some healing to do, me to find, protecting to do, changing to do. I was not going to raise a daughter that was not strong, that was not able to protect herself. As I began to change back into the me that had always been deep within, He fought that, many times over He fought those changes, but eventually over time, we found a compromise. I became a halfling in a sense, as a mother I was all me, strongly me. As a wife I desperately tried to maintain that image He had/I had of his 'perfect' mate.

The next me-changing event taught me, all I had tried to do over the years to mold myself into the mate He/I thought He wanted had not worked, He said something to me one day, something that to anyone else would have been very innocuous, but to me, it was the first epiphany that as a wife for him I had failed miserably. I would never measure up.

I retreated, then I hid, I turned to my best friend in the world, he saved me from me with his advice, his love, his ability to listen to me. Things went on as before.

Then two things happened, a close family member took her life, and He found out how very close my best friend and I were (He felt betrayed that I would share my inner feelings with another). He then realized, or says He did, how important I was to him. He told me that life had no meaning without me in it. I could not reject that little boy within him. (we are such enablers of each other) He attempted to, or seemed to, change his lifestyle, an overwhelming change to become a part of my life, our children's lives, in the way He thought we needed. But it was too late for me, and for our son. I didn't realize it at the time, but my trust in him, in his love was gone. Many things happened to enforce that, mostly the fact that even though we can change, grow, we cannot change the very basic inner us, deep inside we are who we are. He is who He is.

Fast forward a few years, more changes, slow insidious ones that I had not seen, I had allowed life, daily living to blind me. But it was as if one day I woke up, really opened my eyes and realized that our relationship had changed. Changed in a way I could not grasp at first. He had closed me out this time, totally, completely, there was a wall of ice around his heart as I saw it. I was the mother of his children, but that was all. I had become a nonentity in the rest of his life, a helpmate maybe, but as a woman, as a wife, I did not exist.

A few more months go by, me hoping I can put us back together, melt the ice surrounding his heart. A question asked. His tone, the way he looked at me as he answered, broke something, only this time it wasn't me that was broken, it was my defensive wall. It came tumbling down in a thundering, earthshaking moment in time. On that day I cried, body wracking sobs, as I had not cried for many years, I had learned early in life to hide my tears.

As the months streamed by, I began to explore all of those feelings, emotions I had hidden from for so long, I explored all the facets of me, the ones I was willing to face anyway, I entered into a surreal world vastly different than any I had experienced before. In the time since, I have done some things that shame me deeply, but I have also grown, am growing, becoming more.

That brings me to my now. I am still here. We/I have talked of ending our marriage twice in that span of time. Each time...words, events have kept me here. People have kept me here. But mostly fear has kept me here. Many fears, financial fears, losing my family fears, the fear of being a failure, and some I am sure I have not yet faced. But the biggest fear has been that of having to live with a shattered heart, of causing Him to have a shattered heart.

I listen to my poor sister speak of the end of her marriages, I wipe her tears, I ache to mend her heart, her soul, I ache to see her eyes shine with happiness. I ache to see her accept herself, accept her life, accept that she is a crazy-wonderful-amazing woman, when she lets herself be. But she is shattered into so many pieces, she can't find them all, though she so desperately tries. Many times through the years, I have just wanted to say, "Open your eyes, you are searching blindly, please please open your eyes, open your heart, they are there, you just can't see them."

I listen to my brothers, each in his own way shattered also. They express it differently, one who was the most spiritual among us, lost that when he lost his family, and has lost himself as well. The other, he lost himself too, but he never began his search, he is walking a very muddy path, his boots are weighted so heavily with mud, he cannot move forward, the effort seems to great.

I think of them, and other's stories, and I see my fear.

New friends have helped me see this fear.

I am hoping that finally seeing it will bring me closer to acknowledging it, perhaps welcoming it out into the open will bring me closer to having the courage to face it.

Letting the Pain Go

Today is the birthday of one of the most important shapers of my life, a man who gave me a great gift of love, and also gave me some of the greatest emotional pain I have ever experienced.

He is an enigma to me, there are parts of him that I know soul deep, yet parts of him that have always been and will always be withheld from me.

Loving him, that was one of the hardest concepts regarding him that I have ever had to come to terms with. Because no matter the pain, the turmoil, the inner rage--oh the intensity of that rage, the self-hate, the blinding tears, the terror, the hate...there was also always underlying it all......love.

There have only been a very few times in our lives when we both allowed our defensive walls against the other to come down, and those few times, I felt his love emanating from him to me, into me, his way of holding me in the arms of his unconditional love.

He loved me, loves me, he is so very proud of me, of who I am, I know this, I know this deep in my heart. He also knows I love him. But.

I have never ever told him of my years of rage, never ever told him of my years of heart-clutching terror, never ever told him of the repetitive nightmares I suffered for almost 3 years. Never ever told him that I could, maybe, forgive him, or that I had forgiven myself. I wrote it all out in a letter to him almost 13 years ago, it was a letter that had to be written, the paper I wrote the letter on was soaked with my tears by the time I finished writing and rereading it so very many times.

Then one day not long after I had written it, I set fire to it, watched it slowly turn golden brown from the intense heat, watched the edges curl, watched it slowly, oh so slowly begin to flame, watched as it became white ash. On that day, for the first time in 27 years I felt a lightness in my spirit that I did not know existed. Oh, I had felt other spirit sparklings before, the birth of my children being the most intense of those. But that heaviness in my soul, that had weighed me down, that had been so heavy at times that I felt sure the very fabric of my soul hung in rips and tears, was gone, healing was beginning.

I ache for the old man he has become, I worry, I ponder his lost dreams, for they are lost, never to be awakened again. I think in some way he too is healed from the many demons that darken his past. He spends his days now very quietly, although in a home filled with chaos. To see him smile is rare, but when he does I know that small brief smile is brimming with happiness, it is just his way. He does not know how to show affection through touch, it is something I feel is inborn in him, a very part of his DNA, as his grandson is very like him in that regard. But to those of us who know him, we can accept that part of him.

There have been times in my life when something dreadful has happened to him, and I would think, "this is the payment for the sins he visited upon me and the others that love him". But with the passage of time, and my own healing, I can see that life does not work that way, if he feels that any atonement must be made, I think he is doing it now, in a way that is very sad, even heartbreaking, but his way.

The words, "I forgive you", will never be spoken aloud, except, perhaps, if I am there upon his death bed, if I am not there then the words will be spoken aloud for the very first time when I stand over his grave, when I wish him goodbye, when I wish for him/for his soul a finding of true serenity for the very first time in this living of it. But a part of me even as I write this believes that the words will never be spoken aloud.

Once many years ago, I think in his own way he tried, and even started to succeed in asking our forgiveness, he began to write his memoirs, he made it through his childhood and young adult years, but he faltered, then stopped. Why? I think he came to the realization that some in his life were not ready to see the truth, his truth. I do not know if he will ever complete them, or if he has. I somehow doubt it, he has hidden that part of himself away from us. In doing that I believe he feels he is protecting the woman he has spent the majority of his life with, because he cannot not bear to see her relive her pain, his pain, our pain in black and white. He protects her, even though she is a strong woman, so very strong, but underneath her steel shell is a fragile pearl, that can be crushed too easily with the reality of another.

So on this day, I know that I have to soon pick up the phone and wish him happy day, our conversation will be very brief, he will ask me how I am, how my children are, I will ask how he spent the day, if he had any special wishes for the day. I will inquire of his health. We will speak of the weekend's sporting events. I will tell him I love him, he will tell me he loves me, and as I place the receiver back on its bed, I will see him in my minds eyes, I will think of him with love and sadness, tinged a tiny bit with the woeful tears of a little girl who did not understand, tinged with the self-loathing of a teenage girl, with the deep soul-burning melancholy of a young woman, tinged with the uncompromising rage of a young mother-woman, and tinged most deeply with the mournful love of a maturing woman.

Because I love him.

Fireflies

Our minds are such strange things....here it is the middle of winter....and I am thinking about fireflies. Those wonderful magical little glowing lights that blanket the air above the fields during a summer evening.

I used to know the science behind them, but ~sigh~ I don't anymore, one more piece of knowlege I have forgotten.

As a small child (and not so small, since it hasn't been that long ago I was catching them with my children) I used to fill a quart canning jar with them, sit it on the back porch, and watch them crawl and flicker their lights off and on. Of course I had that one night in which I insisted the jar sit on my bedside table, so I could sleep in their soft glow, and of course they were all dead by morning. Does any child not do that at least once? Some lessons it seems we do have to learn the hard way, maybe all important lessons need to be learned in such a manner.

But that didn't make them lose their allure.

Isn't it strange how some things always fascinate us, and with others eventually they lose their appeal? The things of childhood though, those phenomenons that caused us so much enchantment, they still hold us in their spell. Perhaps it is the memories we have of them. Perhaps it is the memory of the way we felt in our childlike wonder.

There are many childhood memories I no longer have, but some just don't fade:

The first time I tasted a wild strawberry, that hard little berry with so many seeds, but the sweetness of that berry was so much better than any I had ever picked from the garden.

The first time I held a duckling, so small, so fragile, so fluffy and soft.

The first time I hid all by myself during a game of hide and seek.

The first time I had the courage to swing as high as I could and then jump from the swing.

The first time I saw a meteor shower....those wonderful falling stars, closing my eyes and wishing.

Other things I don't really remember the first time I became aware of them, fireflies, a full harvest moon, or rainbows for instance, but funnily enough, I can remember so very many times I was bewitched at their sight as an adult.

They still captivate, they still hold their charm. I hope they always do.

Moondust Magic

Ever have one of those days when the world felt right? Moondust, hold out a magnet and it all soon disappears, clinging to the magnet. Today was a moondust day. It all came together, everything I did was right, no self-doubt, no self-questioning....did I advise someone wrong.....did I steer them in the right direction.....was there more I could have done to help? It was just normal day, but better.

It was a typical Monday, the usual conglomeration of stuff happened...... as expected......but in addition things just seemed to be smoother, easier.....

The very atmosphere today was like that....it was one of those winter days in which the air is wet with snow? fog? mist? whatever it was that we had today......but there was a softness to the air, it was easy to breathe, the perfect temperature to hold that perfect blend of moisture, cold, warmth...I know that doesn't make sense, but it felt that way. There was no sunshine, but it wasn't dark and unpleasant either. Very difficult to describe this type of weather, as it is so very typical of those 'feel of impending snow' days we often have.

When I was out today, I just wanted to take off on foot, and hike for hours, to feel my cheeks flushed with exertion and cold. To deeply breathe in that feeling of cleaness.....nothing like it at all....but engendering the same feeling that I get when I take those old age-softened cotton sheets off the clothesline in the summer. Even though instead I had to return to work, that half an hour out was refreshing.

A good day.

It constantly amazes me how a few simple words can lift our spirits. Someone showing their appreciation for the way you do things.

Upon my return home this evening, I found a small card in the mail, from a former employee thanking me for a gift I had given her at Christmas.....yes I know a bit late....but I also know her well, and since her oldest daughter chose to attend university 600 miles from home and only visits during school breaks this was probably the first chance she took for herself to do all those little courtesies...like thank you notes.

Anyway......her note to me was heartwarming, gracious, and in her expressions of how she used her gift....it has become exactly what I intended....a reminder to those I used to work with that someone cares about them, it was just a very small item to be placed on the visor of their cars, but every time they look at it, no matter how they are feeling, they will be reminded that someone, in fact many someones wish them well.

It also amused me, no one in my "offline" life knows me as Sunny, but she mentioned along with some other very nice things....she misses my sunny disposition....(ha! you can definitely tell she hasn't read my blogs!)

Tomorrow is another day, will it be another Moondust Day? It doesn't really matter, because I had one today.

Roadkill to Roadtrip?

"Skunk!" Drew Powell yelled, and then everyone smelled it at once, the gasoline perfume of roadkill, almost pleasant in its olfactory fuck-you."

~The Mammoth Cheese, by Sheri Holman~

That line, don't you love it? I don't think you have to be from my portion of the midwest, these prairie lands near the great lakes, to appreciate the description, as roadkill is a mile after mile after mile fact of life through much of rural America. ...."an olfactory fuck-you".... that repayment to drivers who take no time to scan the side of the roads, who take no time to anticipate or appreciate where they are, who take no time to realize that it is we who have invaded the animals homeland, their habitat, not they ours. A message to those human travellers who anthropomorphize animals, telling themselves it is the animals fault that they ran them over, "they should've known better than to cross the road here."

In my 30 years of driving, I remember every heart-sickening, breath-catching, stomach-gripping, thudding thump, when it was I who took a life with my gasoline driven weapon of destruction. One squirrel, two raccoons, three birds. All because I was driving too fast, unable to slow down soon enough to give the animal the chance to use their flight response in the safest manner.

So now, when travelling these midwestern glacier flattened lands especially at dusk or those few hours past the break of dawn, I become a roadside scanner, and not just the immediate sides, but far off into the fields that line the roads. It is the only way to not miss that tawny-colored deer sailing over the cattle fence, or the oppossum waddling along the fencerow who suddenly decides the insects are more plentiful on the other side of the road. I have taught my children to do the same, my son did have a deer jump directly into the path of his car, it bounced off the passenger side door and lay stunned on the roadside. The car received more damage than the deer, which is usually not the case, and yes humans have lost their lives also when striking a deer or much further north, a moose. But often times it is avoidable if the driver would only remind themselves of where they are. In my son's case, it was probably unavoidable as he was driving along a road in which the marsh lands abruptly met pavement, and the marsh grasses and cattails obscured the view.

What infuriates me, and the reason I loved the "olfactory fuck-you" are those drivers who seem to purposely run these animals down, it becomes a game to them, I have often overheard people (usually young male drivers) telling stories of the opossum family that they played the game with [how-many-they-could-miss-by-centering-the-truck-over-the-animals]. They even have a point system, I don't know how the points are awarded, because by this point in the conversation I have either interrupted and expressed my appalled view point, or walked away in disgust. And NO NO NO opossums are not vicious rabies carrying garbage spreading pests that deserve to be killed, they are shy, placid, useful animals, they eat insects and carrion, yeah all that nasty smelling roadkill, which is why they are the animal most often seen lying smushed.


And just to show the very strangeness of how my brain works, this somehow makes my craving for a day long road trip even stronger. Not far from me is north-south 2 lane state highway, several times a summer I travel straight north to arrive at the shores of Lake Michigan. I have never been there in the winter, but there is an ache in me to see the dunes covered in snow, blue-white waves of snow bordering the shoreline. There is always a sense of peace that flows through me when I gaze even further north across that seemingly endless bounty of water. At the spot I often visit, when I gaze west I can just barely make out a few of the skyscrapers that dominate the skyline of Chicago, to the east if I angle my view just right, then it is another endless view. I feel an ease in my soul almost immediately, just arriving at my destination, without even seeing the lake yet, that state of relaxation begins.

It has been forecasted that we are to finally receive some real snow, not just a light dusting, but several inches, in my imagination I see myself at dawn, lakeside, all sound muffled by the heavy blanketing of snow falling, the air cold, but somehow there is also a warmth in the fat white flakes. Standing there, my frail human body surrounded by the huge majesty of the dunes, the extreme breadth of water, waves lapping at my boot covered feet. My face upturned to feel the light touch of iciness before it begins to melt against the warmth of my skin. And suddenly there is a centering within me, life seems to be in balance, for a few short hours my being is serene. But, before leaving I would have to lie down on my back, sweep my arms and legs through the snow, carefully rise so that I do not disturb the pattern, and leave my own snow angel behind. The feeling lasting for days afterward, all I would have to do is close my eyes and replay the day, and I would be there, a little piece of heaven on earth.

I am not a lover of the cold, but those few heavy snows that quiet our world, that cover the ugliness, those layers of snow that outline the skeletal arms of the hardwoods, those early mornings or evenings when the sky and earth take on that bluish mystical quality, those times are some of the best of times.

Hiding and Seeking

"Hiding out, with my head buried in a book waiting for someone to rescue me from my life."

I was listening to a woman book reviewer being interviewed today (I can't remember her name or I would give her the credit she deserves), when she made the above statement....my immediate response was.....I did that for so many years of my life, from early childhood well into adulthood.

Did I conciously realize I wanted rescued?
No, but in a sense that was exactly what it was.
For most of my life reading, books, have been my escape from life, from the drama, from the trauma of my childhood and teen years. But it didn't stop there, it continued in my adult years also. Hours and hours lost in other worlds, worlds of words.

For a few years, after I found the world of chat and even blogging I traded one addiction for another, or actually just added another, I still read, I cannot think of a time when I don't have at least 3 half-read books sitting on my bedside table, with more stacked on the floor beside it, and usually another in the backseat of my car, and one or two in my brief case. Which is really beside the point, it just keeps me from having to contemplate my next step in the journey. For years I avoided that, so I ask myself, did I, or even do I hope that someone will come along and rescue me?

A good friend recently mentioned to me that there are some people in our world who are rescuers, that is how they escape their own personal demons, by rescuing another who they think are in need. Even to the point of ignoring that the rescuee doesn't really want to be rescued by them. I have had one in my life, and ya know what? I didn't like it, didn't like it one bit. It frustrated me, caused me hours of worry, in fact I ended up thinking I had to rescue them from themselves.

So I am hoping that means that I am past the point of wanting someone else to fulfill that need within me, that I am ready to do any rescuing that needs to be done myself.

So my next question of course, is how do I accomplish that? Not an easy question to answer, in fact usually when that question arises I think I am evading that seeking of answers by picking up the nearest novel and reading. Or I get online, seeking distractions of one sort or another.

But in that process I have also began to discover things about myself because I am in fact not really hiding anymore, I am seeking the answers, and in finding those answers, in finding some of those very things I have kept hidden from myself, I learned that some I don't really like, but some I have liked, do like, and that in itself for the shy little girl hiding out in the weeping willow tree reading her book is a very big deal.

There are still demons I have decided not to face quite yet, still answers I am afraid to learn, but each step in the quest is a step forward, albeit sometimes a very small one, and there are times when I stand on the edge of a precipice, teetering, full of vertigo, wondering if I can or will take the plunge, will I plummet to the rocky ground below, or I will I find crevices along the way to sink my fingers into, to slow my descent?

Somehow, I have lost that mind and body freezing sense of danger, the fear is still there, I think it has to be, but I no longer feel my soul well up with an overload of negative energy when my toes are curled there on the edge, there is a different feeling in the air, at times one of almost magical properties, one that makes my soul sing.

Meeting Persona

We had our first "meet the rest of the tour group" meeting tonight for my daughters trip to France and Italy this coming spring.

And before I arrived at the meeting, I promised myself that I was going to sit quietly, just listen, just be a demure matronly mother. But was I able to keep my promise to myself? Oh I tried, I really did. I think I made it all of 10 minutes. Sitting there with my hands folded in my lap, my legs crossed at the ankle, sitting up straight, being a good listener. But................

I have this wee little problem, it occurs most often when I have to attend a meeting, or participate in small gatherings of people, people that are strangers to each other. I observe, I listen, and I see all of these people fidgeting in that way we sometimes do when we are uncomfortable.

Then something just comes over me, and I can't seem to help it. I will crack a joke, trying to break the ice, even if I only elicit a smile here or there, of course a chuckle is even better. But I don't stop with just one, whenever the situation amuses me, or something strikes me I will comment.....and many times they are rather irreverant comments.

But it worked and it felt good, because by the end of the hour long meeting, people were more lively, chatting more easily, asking the questions that needed to be asked. Instead of sitting there like "good little school children" listening to their teacher.

It wasn't until recent years that I even knew I behaved in such a way, I was attending a "meet your legislator" meeting, all of the program managers were required to attend, along with our board members, and upper management, I had one of those "observing myself from afar" moments, and witnessed myself and the rest of the attendees, that is when I noticed I had slipped on the role of "ice breaker". All the program managers at my level seemed so nervous, as was I, because we were supposed to "sell" our programs to the politicians, had to make them realize that the state funding our organization received really was put to good use. I had spent the day at a small elementary school giving presentations, 7 if I remember correctly, I was mentally exhausted, or so I thought. But I do know my defenses were down. I didn't feel like playing the game. I remember that moment of self-observation, and thinking what are you doing? This is supposed to be serious business! But no one else was appalled at my behavior, in fact later I was complimented on my image of self-assured calm.....who me?

I am not a meeting person, I have a very hard time sitting quietly, sitting still for long periods of time, listening to the seriousness of it all.

I try my best not to disturb the flow of information that must be imparted, but without even thinking, these little oneliners will just pop out of my mouth. Tonight was not the first time I ordered myself to be a "good little listener". And it is not the first time I have disobeyed myself. Somehow I don't think it will be the last either. I really do believe the addage that life is much better when experienced with a smile...I just apply that same addage to meetings.

Dooms Day Clock

Wikipedia: The clock was started at seven minutes to midnight during the Cold War in 1947 (legend says because the scientist were appalled at what they had created), and has subsequently been moved forwards or backwards at intervals, depending on the state of the world and the prospects for nuclear war. Its setting is relatively arbitrary, set by the Board of Directors at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists in response to global affairs. The setting of the clock has not always been fast enough to cope with the speed of global events, either; one of the closest periods to nuclear war, the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, reached its head and resolution in a number of weeks, and the clock either could not be changed or was not changed to reflect any of this at the time. Nevertheless, the changing of the clock usually does provoke attention.

The clock's hands have been moved 18 times in response to international events since its initial start at seven minutes to midnight in 1947:

The number of minutes before midnight, an arbitrary measure of the degree of nuclear threat, is updated periodically. The clock is currently set to five minutes to midnight, having been advanced by two minutes on January 17, 2007.

I heard about this on the radio today, 30 countries are now thought to have some sort of nuclear arsenal. The clock has been set in varying times over the years from 17 minutes to midnight to 2 minutes to midnight.

Does it matter to the ordinary person, should we worry, do any of us really worry, or even think about the potential for nuclear war anymore?

Or do we hear this news and forget about it, just let it get boxed up in our memories somewhere?

My thought processes went something like this today after I heard the news........oh that sounds kind of scary......would some bizarre leader of a country take this as a challenge? In the past no one ever has, but with so many proverbial little red buttons in our world, could they, would they? ........but is there really anything I can do about it, if it happens it happens....I wonder what I should make for dinner tonight.....I wonder how much homework Miss Daughter has tonight.....I guess there are terrorist factions that have nuclear capabilities too......I wonder if I should change the oil in the car this weekend.....it's hump day, only two more days til the weekend....I hope gas prices go down again the gas gauge is at the 1/2 way mark and it's only Wednesday.....I wonder what I would do if I thought nuclear war was imminent.....god I am so tired.....Oh wow that's a good song playing now!

I am actually old enough to have smidgeons of memory from my early elementary school years when we had to practice what to do if nuclear war started (we actually believed it would keep us free from harm) and part of me wonders, how could so many educated adults do that to us as children, they had to know it wouldn't matter, who did they do it for? They had to have seen all the photographs and footage from Hiroshima and Nagasaki....it now seeps into my memory like a badly written Science Fiction novel. The very same things I was taught in first grade, are now taught to midwestern school children as protective measures against a tornado ( the maneuvers would offer some protection there).

So is this something that is just another interesting news item?

I guess it is to me, I am not going to do anything about it, I am not going to write to my congressman, I am not going to march in an anti-nuclear war ralley, I am going to do absolutely nothing about it, all I am going to do is go to bed and hope I wake up to a warmer tomorrow.

There are things I do do something about, child and adult abuse for one, raising money for Alzheimer's research, homeless shelters, and HIV/AIDS research, I have and will again I am sure boycott certain manufactured items to help make a point, I vote, but as to getting myself all worked up about WWIII, it just hasn't hit close enough to home for me yet, and if our world really gets to that point, would it be too late to do anything about, are we there now? Or is it just another item on the nightly news?

The Goose Got No Play

Huge sigh.............

I had an all day conference I had to attend in the city an hours drive from here on Saturday, so even though it was interesting as learning experiences go, it was not my idea of fun. I stopped by Cracker Barrel Restaurant to use their rest room...known for theirs being clean....and found a wonderful flying pig to add to one of my flower beds this summer. If I don't end up taking it to work and putting it on display in my office first. I really like it, it is shaded like age patinaed (sp?) copper, about 16 inches in length, and just struck my whimsical side, and a little whimsy is a good thing ~smile~.

Today was supposed to be another short hours drive back to the city to visit the museum of art, and possibly one of the more unique malls. First my wonderful daughter decided she just had to add some more red highlights to her hair, which made it a much later start than planned........and then, just as I thought we were finally about ready to leave my son called. He had left for work only minutes before it seemed. He had wrecked his car, totalled it completely in fact.

We live near a river, and with all the rain we have been having lately there are several roads that flood. He had been driving too fast, looked down to change CD's and when he looked up the High Water/Road Closed sign was looming in his windshield. An overcorrection, spinning tires, spinning car, and a bounce off a tree later, the car was totalled. Luckily he was not harmed. The passenger side of the car is the side that was smashed up against the tree. His car will be extremely wet on the inside since the passenger side window no longer exists. He says he remembers everything in the car exploding outward as he bounced off the tree, then he thinks he blacked our for a moment.

I was sure it would take hours for the police to get there, fill out the accident report, and then have it towed, luckily it only took about 2 hours. But just enough time had passed that there was no time to make the museum before it closed.

So, off to our own local city to pick up some gyros plates....mmm love those so much, with greek side salads, and the trip home, listening to my 20 yr. old bemoan the fact that he is now without wheels. Hopefully it will all get sorted out soon, since his job as a pizza delivery person requires a car. I told him he would not be using my Jeep! And the mini-van is not among his favorites to drive, as well as being a major gasoline guzzler.

Thus I spent my weekend, accomplishing little, doing none of the few things I had planned. But I am glad we were home to help him out, everything happens in the way it should I suppose. I am especially happy that he was not hurt. After looking at his car, if the driver's side had hit the tree, I would now be sitting in hospital now instead of blogging.

Gander Away

The gander is away and the goose wants to play, but I can't think of anything I want to do that doesn't require overnight travel....sigh....

Hubby is away for the weekend, and what am I doing? Cleaning up my email accounts, I have finally come to the conclusion that I am a secret hoarder. I have emails going back to December of 2005, now that is bad! Some of them I opened before deleting them to see why in the world I would have saved them. And there doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason. A few have something special attached to them, but others I think I was just too lazy to delete at the time. Ah well time now, and I have.

I am going to do something fun with my weekend, not sure what yet, a few art museums are on the agenda, and a bit of work, and if I am feeling particularly naughty....a little shopping too.

I like this little bit of freedom I feel, there is less tension in the house, probably just me, but it feels so. Still some there between Ms. Daughter and I, but it is getting better day by day, and our museum trip will help that.

I heard a song today by Jill Scott, I am sure I have heard it before but today was one of those days that it just struck me, I really listened to the lyrics...

Golden

I'm taking my freedom,
Pulling it off the shelf,
Putting it on my chain,
Wear it around my neck,
I'm taking my freedom,
Putting it in my car,
Wherever I choose to go,
It will take me far,

I'm livin' my life like it's golden

Humans are Indeed Strange Beings

Today as I was travelling home from work, I was listening to All Things Considered on NPR.

They were airing reports regarding Egptians speaking out on the execution of Saddam Hussein. Some of it quite sad, since it seems they were several who took their own lives in copy cat hangings.

Many herald him as a hero, some think if he had had more countries supporting him he would have won the war early on. Others........a husband and wife got into such a battle over whether he was good or evil...that the husband stabbed his wife with a knife. Guess which side each was on?

What really struck me though, was that several mosques in Baghdad said his image could be seen in the moon, and a number of people swore they saw it, even down to his glasses!

First thing that popped into my mind when I heard that was.....Harry Potter 4 and the Dark Mark in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup Tournament.

Then of course when I had the chance to get online I had to google it, if so many saw it, did someone not take a photograph of this amazing occurence? It seems not, I found no images online. So did these people see it, see this spectre of Saddam in the moon? Dunno, because I am now wondering if I heard the story at all, the NPR website does have the All Things Considered broadcast, but for some reason my media player would not load it. I am now wondering, did my own strange imagination make it up? I don't think so, I think that our minds are capable of many things, and with that simplest of suggestions, many truly believe they saw such an image.

I often see the man in the moon....although I suppose I call it the man in the moon because that is what it was always stated to me as a child....and we see no long flowing hair, which is how we imagine a womanly image...even though that image does change as the sure as the night sky changes.....I gotta say, I don't think I ever saw the Man in the Moon wearing large aviator glasses.

A Week Into the New Year

The first week of the new year is now considered the past by me.

The end of 2006 was an eyeopener and eye sweller for me, but mostly a learning experience, which is good I suppose.

I keep wondering, if I make out a detailed plan of action for myself for the next 6 months, will that help? I have always set some kind of goal/goals for myself, but never actually sat down and made a plan/a to do list for the future. I am hoping that will give me some focus, because currently I feel lost, knowing the direction I need and want to go in, but somehow not being able to really get those thoughts balanced out.

So one thing I plan on spending my weekend doing, is creating just such a plan, I am even going to try to go for details, perhaps those nitty gritty details will allow me to see if I am really creating any forward momentum...worth a shot anyway.

* * * * * * *

Another work week when I spent a lot of time trying to help other people deal with their crises.
One very good thing about my job, is I hear from people who are in such hopeless sounding situations, that it does indeed put my own problems in perspective. The saddest thing to me is there are so many homeless people in our world. Homeless through bad luck bad choices, and illness, but many also homeless because they can't seem to pull themselves up out of the hole they have dug for themselves, or was dug for them.

Twice today I received calls from the homeless that I could not help, there are just not any resources available to them. One man is ill, has to arise several times during the night to give himself breathing treatments...thus the shelters are not allowing him back inside, he causes too much of a disturbance. So where does he go? What does he do? He told me he receives a small amount of disability from the government, but that his previous landlord took it all for his room and board, then kicked him out. Thus on the streets, no shelter will take him, and no money. I had no advice for him. I did wonder how a man of 51 would sign over every cent to his name to another person, but of course I did not get the whole story either.

Another call from a husband and wife, they have been homeless since September, have finally worn out their welcome at the last of their friends. When I asked if they had any family they could turn to, they said no. They were not willing to go to the shelters because none we have here are set up for couples. Women with children, or separate facilities for males and females are the only ones available. In fact one shelter said they could provide a bed for the wife but not the husband. The best I could tell him was be thankful the weather is holding to the low-50's "At least you won't freeze if you have to sleep in your car." He agreed with me, said they had spent the night before in their in their very small car. I tried to imagine it, sleeping in a car. Where does one park it? How can one feel safe? I have stopped at roadside parks or rest areas and taken short naps before, but I was in a minivan, totally different ballgame I think.

One of the things that surprised me...I asked how long they had both been unemployed, he said for over a year. I desperately try not to make judgments, after all, as I mentioned I never hear the entire story...but, I just can't imagine not being able to find some sort of employment in a years time. Our area McDonald's, several quick marts, discount department stores, and gas stations are always looking to hire people. So even though they are extremely low paying jobs, is it really that hard to get hired? Or, were they making a choice, deciding that it had to be one kind of job or none at all? I suppose that is something I will not know unless I live it myself.

I have often tried imagining myself in that situation...but, I can't completely...for one thing, I may be a part of a dysfunctional family, but we always try to 'be there' for each other, so I would have a place to stay...if I could get there...but again...one phone call...and they would come to get me.

The not working part, I realize there are many impediments to getting out and applying for a job, or seeking help...but some clean clothes, a shower, and I would be out applying for jobs all over town...hopefully someone would hire me. Would I be too proud to tell them how desperately I needed the job? Is that part of it? I try to put myself in the place of an employer...I have done hiring before...and, if I had the complete authority to do so, and the trust in the person, I would hire them, if they met even my barest of qualifications. But in many organizations there are hiring rules...I had to turn someone away at my last place of employment...not because they couldn't do the job, and not because I didn't think they could do it or wouldn't make a good employee, but, because upper management wasn't willing to bend any of the rules to give the potential hire a chance. So maybe the problem with those that are jobless...is, no one is willing to take that chance?

Another difficulty in getting help or finding a job is the time it takes, and the distant that oftentimes has to be traveled. I have heard so many stories from people who feel their very dignity as humans is taken away by the government employee. Those that work in the social security offices, the welfare offices, the employment offices deal with hundreds of desperate people a week, people who are in crises mode, people who are frightened, often angry at their circumstances, all of these negative emotions fall on the government employee. So, the employees in the agencies, the very ones who are there to help, are often the least helpful, they behave in very degrading ways in many instances. Thus the seekers become even more frustrated, and many finally do give up for a time. It can become a vicious circle of loss and pain.

It makes me thankful that I can be a pleasant voice on the other end of the phone, one that can sometimes offer ideas or solutions, or if nothing else a listening ear. I try to be very aware of my feelings when dealing with a caller, and if I find myself starting to sound weary, or frustrated I know it is time for a short break, time to get away from the phone, time to walk around, get some fresh air, time to refocus so that those that need help get only my best effort. There are always several voice mails waiting for me when I return, but I am once again able to be helpful, because I took those few minutes away.

But, eventually, my day ends, then I can put their burdens aside, and have to try to deal with my own. It is so much easier to deal with the problems of others than my own.

My husband called me at work today, to request that I make a quick stop at the market before coming home, I asked him what time it was....his reply to me..."Wow, you really aren't a clock watcher are you? You really must like this job, it is almost 5, you get to go home soon. "

My thought...home...home?...sigh.

Think Less Stress

* Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days
you're the statue.

* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you
have to eat them.

* Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in
the middle of it .

* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by
their maker.

* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

* If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it
was probably worth it.

* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply be kind to
others.

* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because
then you won't have a leg to stand on.

* Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

* Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.

* The second mouse gets the cheese.

* When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

* Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.

* You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be
the world to one person.

* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

* We could learn a lot from crayons... Some are sharp, some are
pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are
different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.

* A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.