I M Perfect lady

Author: bjukuri

  • Unconditional Love Grew in WIND

    First camping trip to Ontonagon

    This was in October of 2016 – WIND began doing overnight adventures in Ontonagon.

    My friend who lives there invited us – and our friends began meeting each other.

    We stayed in a cottage and planned a few hikes.

     

    The second year we stayed at a new friend's place along the shores of Lake Superior and we did a class on glass blowing – another new friend was our teacher.

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    This was much harder than it appeared – but fun and a great teacher.

     

    We then stayed at the Township park and had a wonderful spot right on the shores.

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    We hiked on trails in the Porky's and rode our bikes – and swam.  Familiar faces on our Ontonagon camping trips.

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    And then we added boats – which was a great idea – since we were camping on the shores of Lake Superior.  

     

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    In 2021 we began staying at a special place, hosted by this wonderful woman.

    It was the year we couldn't reserve a spot at the local Township Campground – and she generously opened her home to us.  And, we gladly accepted.

    This was our 5th time staying there.

     

    It has become an annual place for us to retreat – on the shores of Lake Superior – West Campground.

    Over the years we all have gotten closer, shared laughs and sorrows.  We have become soul sisters.


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    My friend – she is the conduit to WIND girls to form new friendships in Ontonagon.

    Our groups have mingled and jelled together nicely – we even commented this past trip how there has not been any drama – we are all so wonderfully meshed together – in a loving kind friendship.  

    Our times together have laughter, wisdom and life experiences shared.

    We blend so well – it is pure joy when we meet.

    Oh and we love doing projects – or so I think.

    Each year we do a few and they have become some of my prized pieces.

     

    I treasure this time of year when we haul out tents and boats to her place.

    We feel right at home – and love returning each year.

     

    How lucky am I – to have friends who have friends who become friends!

     

    WIND turned 13 years old this summer. 

    The women I have met and the adventures we have been on – and the friendships who feel like family – overwhelm me.

     

    What is so heartwarming – is for all that I have lost – more have I gained.

    These women have filled my heart –

    I have volumes of memories of all that we have done over the years.

    The ways in which we have grown and explored new things.

    Revisited old actives and added new ones.

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    Who I am and how I see myself has changed over these many years.

    I am better because of the women who call me friend.

    Even if WIND ends – I believe we will still enjoy many adventures together.

    We came together as women in new directions – some of our lives were swiftly changed into a direction we were unfamiliar with – and yet we have overcome.

    We have leaned into our direction and have grown because of it.

    What I love about  WIND is the women I have gotten to know.

    How they each brought to me a stronger part of myself.

    I learned from them.

    And have become a lot more self assured. 

    All of our adventures, whether weekly meetings or when we camp – have given me back a whole self.  

     

    It is so interesting. In the early conception of WIND.  My intentions were to join together women who feel lost with women who were further down the path and could shed some light on life. I kinda believed I was the one leading – only to figure out many years later, they were leading me.

     

    My heart loves our group and I have found peace and a space to grow and be me.

    Unconditional love grew in WIND.

     

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    I love you all!

  • Out Loud

    I have been thinking about breaking the silence ever since a group called "Voices Unmuted" was formed. A group whose Mission is to protect innocent children from sexual abuse within the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church (OALC).

     

    There is a podcast which talks about this subject – it was a few years ago, but completely applicable today.

     

    The juxtaposition between a religion and those not protecting the children is hard to wrap your head around.

    Like could there actually be grown up people within a religious organization – mute about children being in danger of sexual abuse.

    Not only grownups, but parents – and parents with large families and extended families. Adults who bear responsibility of looking out for children – and they are complacent and quiet about crimes against children.

     

    A question was asked "If you can’t believe there are many predators, ask yourself why you need so badly to believe there aren’t."

     

    This question is quite profound for the followers of these religions – who need the religion to not be tainted by abuse – especially sexual crimes against children – for then what do they believe in – or more how do they get to heaven one day.

     

    It is way more about them NOT wanting it to be true – rather than being curious about what if it is?

     

    What would happen to their lives IF they did believe there were many predators?

    What would it cost them?

     

    When there is abuse in another church, say the Catholic Church – they believe it.

    If there is abuse in a school or with a family outside of the church, they believe it.

     

    However when the unmuted voices speak about their church, their families in their world – it is different.

     

     

    If you were raised in the church and groomed to be silent – you and your past will no longer be the same.

     

    While there is a group unmuted – there is a much larger group of unbelievers – for their very being depends upon it.

     

    It has been over 20 years for me.  I know from experience the cost of believing the unbelievable.  To see your parents in a new light – and your religion. 

     

    These are big pillars in who you are.

    When they turn tarnished – there isn't much left of you.

     

    I know to the depth of my being – they know subconsciously that if the church falls – and the family's legacy is abuse – it will be the end of who they are.

     

    What they don't know, is that it is the beginning of finding your soul – the person you were born to be.  

     

    You lose all that isn't true.

    I didn't lose love – I lost dysfunction.

    I didn't lose a religion – I lost a cult that protects abusers.

    I didn't lose me – I lost the person I was to survive.

     

    When you don't want to believe something is true – usually it's because you need it to be the opposite – even when there are facts and truths in plain view.

     

    What is the saying "she protests too much".  

    "The quote "She protests too much" is a shortened version of the line "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," from Shakespeare's play Hamlet. It means that someone's excessive denials or over-the-top reactions to an accusation actually reveal their guilt or the opposite of what they claim to be true."

     

    It reveals their guilt or the opposite of who they claim to be.

     

    Imagine finding out the opposite of who you claim to be.

    Or what the church claims to be etc.

    I know this feeling.

    I was there.

     

    No matter how much I didn't want it to be true – my body couldn't lie.

     

    It does not matter how many voices are unmuted – each person will be the one to either believe it or protest too much.

     

    I believe they can feel the truth.

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    How ironic – or not – I have been working on this quilt – and it was before listening to the podcast or reading that question.   I love how my art speaks ahead of me. Feel the truth. Notice "the Answer" and "Out Loud" - 

     

     

     

  • Find the truth.

    "I write because it makes me feel like someone is listening – Or am I listening to myself."

     

    I love this quote and I don't know who said it.

     

    What I do know is that I began writing in earnest when I was the most lost.

     

    I was in a body, in a life – in relationships, I was a mother and a wife – and I didn't know who I was.

     

    This was quite scary and exhilarating at the same time.

     

    When I was writing, I was engaging with what I called my mental lady – my mind – and trying to find a Me that was not tainted with my childhood religion or the affects of abuse – or even just programming that comes with living in this world.

     

    Could I find myself, when I didn't know who I was or where I had gone missing?

     

    I am amazed I was any semblance of an adult –

    I had to look up "semblance" to see if that was the correct word to use.

    "the outward appearance or apparent form of something, especially when the reality is different. "she tried to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order"

     

    It is the perfect word. Especially when I was living different from the reality of my truths.

     

    I am not certain I can accurately describe the vast chasm of unknown – and me and the mental lady – trying to make sense of the senseless.

     

    This mental lady was who I had been for 46 years and the writer was who I was becoming  began dialoguing and arguing over who was the real me.        I felt like a fledging little bird compared to the wily mental lady.

    It seemed not a fair fight, for the new me was so small , unsure and bewildered – the mental lady had strength of not her own conviction – and was backed by family and church.

     

    Our playground or battlefield was on the blank sheet of paper.  

    Without pencil and paper, I fear the mental lady would have won.

     

    The strength of her brainwashing, the fear laced shame of abuse – was a powerful duo to contend with.

     

    Especially when inside of me was a newly seen abused little girl.

     

    A part of me was writing to empower that little girl and for her to become free.

     

    Often when a choices was tough to make, I would visualize how it would be to the wounded girl inside of me.  Then, the choice was easy.

     

    Many more hard choices were made – and the little girl inside of me grew strong as I listened to what she wanted/needed and gave her love, peace and joy.

     

    I look back fondly at those early years of being a fledging – doing battle with a brainwashed mind – and feel pride.

     

    Try talking sense to a person who's been under the spell of brainwashing – or better yet try changing them or debunking their beliefs – THAT is what she was up against.

     

    Writing helped free me from my brainwashed mind.

     

    It perhaps was one of the most powerful tools I used to get me to walk hand and hand with reality.

     

    I am no longer fledging – but very secure in who I am.

     

    I still use writing – which is now on this blog – anytime my mind can't leave an idea alone. When my mind is restless and it keeps pulling me from the reality of now – I am drawn to the blank page.

     

    What I recall too is how the wily mental lady was always so righteously right. And, I was often afraid to begin writing for I didn't know what I would have to do.  What choice I would be forced to make.

     

    Yet the writing always gave me a choice that was true for me.

     

    When it was true for me – I always felt at peace with the choice – even when that choice brought serious consequences.

     

    What the fledging bird within me wanted most of all, was to be true to my feelings and emotions.  I wanted to be in sync with my body, mind and spirt. 

     

    Writing was the vehicle – and my mental lady and I were on a journey to see which one of us would survive the ruthlessness of the pencil.

     

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    Me, Myself and I – on a journey to find the truth.

     

     

     

  • A Letter to You.

    There is a group of individuals who are concerned about the lack of reporting sexual assaults in the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church – and I can only hope there is a similar group in the First Apostolic Lutheran Church.  

    Mostly they are hoping to appeal to the elders of the church, the mission boards and preachers.  

    They want to inform them how to report sexual assault crimes.

     

    What I believe they fail to consider is that these are grown up people who know and who have chosen to remain quiet – to preserve the sanctity of their church.

    What appears to matter most is that if you don't speak of the evil that is present, the evil disappears.  While they are silent and unmoving, evil flourishes and has actually multiplied exponentially.  

    The two churches that I have mentioned truly look to the leadership on all things.  They are the ones who make the rules and set the tone of how you live, what you do with your body etc.

    Which is why so many are trying to get the attention of the church leaders to make some changes. They move when the elders move…their free thinking minds have been brainwashed.

     

    To me each parent who knowingly brings their children to places where known pedophiles are, IS a bigger problem.

    There is a false sense of security – when church members gather – believing the evil is in those who are outside of the church. Or stranger danger – for crimes against children. 

    More parents know and do nothing – than parents who are totally unaware.

     

    What I believed, when my father was arrested, that we were the only family. Only to learn over the next weeks, months and years, it was more common than not.  

     

    I also believe sexual abuse is so intertwined within families, it will be near impossible to eradicate.  

     

    I had abuse on both sides of my parents. 

    The church neighbors in our neighborhoods, had it in their homes.

    In fact a brother flippantly said, "there is abuse everywhere." which is sorta true in these churches. But that doesn't mean that it is right or okay or that we need not work on that changing.

     

    I have spoken with women of the church – who are unmovable when it comes to leaving the church, their faith is too precious. More than a child in harm's way.   Their minds won't let them leave and so they have to focus more on faith and less on the child's needs.

     

    So, as they write letters to appeal to the elders – the flock is compliant to the abuse in their circles. What would be the cost to the elders to admit they lost the sanctity of their religion.

    For how is their religion Holy – when abusers are protected there.

     

    I am not certain what the answer is – but the common sense has escaped – or been hijacked by the cult-like mindset.  When you have to be told to leave when children are at risk for sexual abuse – you are lacking responsibility.

     

    I often wished it was the problem of others – to change – but in the end it was up to me.

    I had to be the one to say no more, THIS ends with me.

    I will do what my mother couldn't do.

    I will end relationships, I will set boundaries, I will say no, I will chart the course on a whole new pathway – where there is zero tolerance.

     

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    Instead of addressing the preachers, start a letter to you.

    (What changes do you need to make to assure children are safe within your circles.)

     

     

     

     

  • Call it Love.

    What is love and what is indifference?

    For we all know the opposite of love is indifference.

     

    Indifference – "lack of interest, concern, or sympathy." 

     

    THIS is what rankles me the most about the religions who forgive abusers – is their lack of interest, concern or sympathy towards the victims.  That indifference IS nowhere near love or christian like actions.

     

    How can an organization who shows indifference towards children who are abused or are vulnerable to abuse, be a church of god.

    God, I thought was about love.

     

    The indifference towards victims, their voices and their truths – is so telling of where their priorities lie.  

    It isn't with the victims.

    I didn't have the right word to aptly describe what I could feel coming from others – it wasn't hate – it is indifference.

     

    Total lack of interest, concern or empathy – in fact – you can almost see the shutters go down on their eyes.  Lack of interest  and lack of concern blows my mind – each and every time.

     

    What I know to be true is that if you are indifferent to crimes against children – when you show no concern or sympathy towards victims –  you are not acting in love.

    In fact, I would wager you don't know love. 

     

    The opposite of love is indifference.

     

    What I expected to happen within the church – the church I believed had high morals and values – was for there to be an outcry.  For abusers to be banished – and children protected. 

    When indifference was all I faced – it baffled me.

     

    However, if the church is indifferent – then it all makes sense.  An indifferent church would lack interest and concern.  

     

    What my mind has wrangled with for decades is to make sense of the senseless.

    I could not understand HOW indifference was the shared energy of so many.

    Indifferent enough to not leave the church.

    Seriously. 

    To be part of an organization who is indifferent to children being abused and be indifferent about it.  No concern, or interest AT ALL. You belong to an organization that is indifferent when it comes to crimes against children. Really?

     

    The only energy I ever felt from the church and so many adults and family members is indifference when it came to sexual abuse of children.

     

    They were and are indifferent to the risk a child is at – to be in an indifferent environment.

    When you lack interest and concern about children's vulnerability within your family and or religion – that is indifference towards children.  

    Not love.

    But the opposite.

    Children are not safe with you.

     

    What I know to be true in my experience, when I understood the indifference to my marrow – was they were not safe people.  

    It wasn't even they were indifferent to me, worse they were indifferent to what was done to me.  Their lack of concern, interest and sympathy – equates to being unloving.  

    That is what I felt from them – unloved.

     

    My heart likes to pretend I lost love.

    But my mind knows better.

    I lost indifference.

     

    Living lives of indifference  - compared to living with love.

    The vast space between leaves no place to stand on common ground.

     

    My heart breaks for those who have felt this indifference with their trauma of abuse.

    My heart knows the pain of indifference.

    Can you even matter if they are indifferent.

     

    I wrote a post once – about every little girl should matter.

    It seems overly cruel to be indifferent to a child in pain.

    A child who is at risk of sexual abuse.

    Often from family or someone they know in church.

     

    They are taught that God is love etc in a church of indifference.

    It is no wonder that the files in my left brain were all fucked up.

     

    Love is an energy.

    Indifference is an energy.

     

    While words of the church are cheap – and can say anything it wants. What matters most is how they respond.

     

    Love is an action.

    Indifference is an action – a non-moving action.

     

    The detective that sat in my home over 20 years ago said."I can't believe how many knew and did nothing."

    Indifference.

    That is what he meant. 

     

    Being a victim who disassociated and whose memory is small and vague of her childhood, I didn't know.

    I didn't know until another victim spoke up.

    I made sense.

    I was her.

     

    I wasn't indifferent to me no more.

     

    My life even makes more sense today – when I understand or put words to my feelings of being indifferent.

     

    Or more to see them in that light.  

     

    Those who are indifferent to child abuse – what do you call them?

    Neglecting a child's needs – especially after sexual abuse or when vulnerable to an abuser. 

     

    A person who neglects a child is often seen as abusive.

     

    The second wound is the indifference of others – after abuse.

    What we want is for there to be concern and sympathy.

    When faced with indifference – we shrink and pull back. 

     

    Another example of what I felt towards my parents. 

    Something in me – pushed me back.

    I wasn't drawn to either.

     

    I, and many have blamed ourselves for not being able to feel deep love and connection.

    How could we – when we felt their indifference.

     

    This feels like the energy of my childhood home – indifference.

    My heart broke knowing no love lived there.

     

    But I made more sense – being raised in indifference.

    My emotional intelligence was handicapped by the indifference.

    My model for love was indifference.

     

    When there is no interest, concern or empathy after abuse – you feel it deep in your heart and soul.

     

    I asked, "When someone shows indifference…" 

    and what came back was "Lack of Emotional Involvement."

    Wow.

     

    That also defines my childhood.- the lack of emotional involvement – is the only way you can be indifferent.

     

    How sad – but it feels true.

     

    Emotional involvement – "Being emotionally involved means deeply caring about someone or something, and having a strong connection that affects your feelings and actions. It implies a level of investment where your own well-being is intertwined with the well-being of the person or situation you are involved with. This can manifest as empathy, concern, and a desire to support or protect the object of your emotional involvement. "

     

    Twenty years later I am still learning and making sense of how my old world worked.

     

    What I do know, is that feels true to me. 

    I was raised with indifference and with parents who were not emotionally involved.

     

    The shallowness of that – feels right in my body.

    It also feels right that my emotions came online with the truth of my past.

    When my denial shattered, I began to feel.

     

    Many years of unexpressed emotions rose to be heard.

    The body truly does keep the score.

     

    I believe we are born love.

    And we still are love, when others are indifferent to us.

    Their indifference has nothing to do with us.

    Their indifference shows where their emotions are not.

    Love –" is an emotional attachment to person, animal or thing."

    Where indifference is the lack of emotional involvement.

    Their lack, not mine.

     

    I feel for a mother who is not emotionally involved with her child.

    And, the child who grew up in indifference, and was taught to call it love.

     

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  • What is Indifference.

    Victims are speaking out in the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church – and Abusers are being arrested. This – I hope starts to trickle into the First Apostolic Lutheran Church.

     

    Adult children of abuse – unmuting their voices.

    I cheer you on!

     

    I know this will come with consequences – and also with empowerment, freedom and self-love and respect.  

    I believe they are breaking cycles and making others feel less alone.  

    I am hopeful this is a trend that will keep on spreading into churches with cult-like tendencies.  

     

    What has always confounded me is the way these churches have allowed abuse to flourish.  How it appeared that they are incapable of seeing evil – or understanding the difference between good and bad.  

    How the lines seemed to be blurred by the forgiveness of sins – where wrongs/evil is forgiven and the person then becomes innocent of their crimes.  Washed whiter than snow – and in the eyes of the church – forgiven.  The crime/sin is said to be lost in the sea of grace.

     

    Where does this leave the victims?

    No longer victimized?

    No, added to the trauma of abuse, it is now a sin in the church's eyes to bring up this 'forgiven sin' – they are made to feel a bad christian for naming another's sin.  How convenient for the abusers – when victims are silenced this way.

     

    I had to look up the common conception or spectrum of what we call good and evil.

     

    "In ethics and philosophy, "good" and "evil" are typically defined as opposing moral concepts, with "good" representing what is considered morally right and positive, and "evil" representing what is morally wrong and negative.These concepts are often understood as a linear scale, with actions, behaviors, or intentions falling somewhere along this spectrum."

     

    What is the moral scale in these churches when they forgive the abuser and do not report their crimes?  Can they even be on the scale of good morals?

    It is so confusing when the forgiveness of sins, wipes away evil – than does evil  even exist in their worlds?

    If you don't a have a ruler or measurement of what is good and what is bad – right or wrong – how do you know where you stand and what to set boundaries against?

     

    The only way that the churches allow this evil to exist within so many families, is that they can't see the evil once it has been forgiven. 

     

    This mind game they play with real crimes leaves the victims without an ally. 

     

    There are many within these churches who feel that they are in an organization with high morals and values.  Yet, if you overlook crimes – especially against children – who are you?

     

    What seems to be child's play – has had decades and generations of folks being unresponsive to children who have been abused – while tending to the forgiveness of sins the church requires.

     

    I know, it isn't intentional – but a by product of their religion.

     

    They see the world so skewed – when evil only exists – until it's forgiven. It is a flash in a pan.

     

    What I know, from experience with my family – their world didn't really hold evil – or maybe only me.  

    They were all able to still have a father.

    They were able to forgive and move on.

    Their scale of good and evil seems more of good and good.

    I am seen as evil – for my mind is no longer capable of turning evil back into good with words and pretend thoughts.

     

    There is a meaning of forgiveness that I have adopted by Martha Beck  "I once read that forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a different past…but forgiving is not the same as obliterating memory."

    What these churches are asking when they say "Forgive and Forget" is to obliterate the memory of the abuse and that the abuser is evil.  

    Imagine asking this of young children. 

    Once I adopted her definition my world was set in reality – where good and evil did exist and I wasn't the evil person for speaking up. I wasn't evil for having boundaries or creating my own moral code.

    I also don't hold this against my family – for they were born into this brainwashing system – a religion where evil is washed away – if you are in their circle.  

    Maybe the real devil is the one who challenges their conditioned mind. 

     

    What brings me great hope is that more adult children of abuse within these churches start speaking out.  Unmuting their voices and start seeing evil.  

    And, my heart goes out to those who have to see evil in their own families – and to see the moral codes crumble in the religion they were raised in. And to find a new definition of forgiveness – giving up all hope of having a different past.

    In that past, you will find abuse and your abuser – and those who knew and did nothing.

    When you walk truthfully with your past, you can also walk truthfully into your future.

    My mind is at ease with what is.

    When you are walking hand and hand with reality – there is good and evil. And you discern what is love and what is indifference.

     

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  • Mother Yourself With Love

    This is it:
    This body is home.
    This is where I live and hang my hat.
    This is where I settle into my hips and sit easy in myself, slung together with strong muscles and bones, made gentle and forging with flesh.
    This body is durable, has lasted for years, hunkered down through fierce storms and allows for the peaceful erosions of age. It is like a cottage on the shore: weathered and well made, a place where a person could comfortably live.
    I like it here.
    It is my own.
     
    By Marya Hornbacher
     
     
    I wondered today, what would be a good role model for a mother?
    What kind of woman would she be?
    What skills and intelligence would she need?
     
    Women become mothers – often without skills – and for sure experience.
    A child is born and there we are – responsible for a life and called a Mother.
     
    Perhaps the best mothers are women who are at home in their skin and have empathy for the human life of ups and downs – the fragility and complexity of being alive – and having their own self love.
     
    Maybe Self-love is the foundation of a great mother.
     
    I do know that children are not good listeners of what we speak – but are great at emulating our actions – and can feel how we feel about ourselves.
     
    Lacking a strong loving role model, I was left to find my way on my own.
     
    I mothered for many years without a connection to myself and even fully knowing who I was – let alone loving myself.  
     
    I know I tried to be responsible for the kids – and took care of them.
     
    What I believe I failed at – early on – was being Me.
     
    I had been a follower, a people pleaser and non-confrontational person.  I went along to get along – without a thought of what it cost me.
     
    I lost me.
     
    I never knew me.
     
    Until all the structures around me fell and I was left alone with a body and this present moment in time – and yet still a mother.
     
    I believe I mothered me – into being who I am today.
     
    And in doing so, became the mother I needed.
     
    During the process I found a woman I loved.  
     
    She was a much better mother.
     
    She wasn't loved by all or even respected – but she was by Me.
    I loved her for her strength, courage and willingness to do hard things – to break patterns and cycles that were hurtful.  
     
    I loved Me.
     
    I was proud of who I had become and the kind of mother too.
     
     
    What want most for my kids and grandkids is for them to be themselves, however that represents itself.
     
    To be able to express their feelings, their emotions, their truth and love in ways that always honors who they are.
     
    I know in the past – in the olden days of me growing up – children were often just extensions of their parents.
    The parents had more to say about the child's life than the child itself. We often had to adhere to their wishes in order to be loved.
     
    I am hopeful that the more women are fully owning their own sovereignty – children will be able to be who they were born to be – without having to look away from what they want – to please a parent.
     
    Many parents feel it is their duty to have their kids follow in the same footprints, to be of the same religion and hold the same values and core beliefs.   These ideals leave very little room for a child to be themselves. To be curious about the world and who they are.
     
    Today my ideal mother is one who lives life unabashedly herself – who shows her children the freedom of being unique and authentic to your own inner voice.  A woman who isn't afraid to stand out and alone – one who is open to living life in ways that disturb others – but brings her love, peace and joy.
     
    A great mother is one who is at peace with her life and wants others to find their own way.
    A woman who loves without conditions – allowing others to just be who they are right now.
     
    Mothering is much harder when you are trying to bend another person to be who they are not.
     
    Mothering is much easier when you are their cheerleader and only want what they want.
     
    Mothering a child – is successful when a child loves who they are and feel seen, heard and understood.
     
    A loving mother changes the world.
     
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    And, we come in all sizes and shapes.
    There is no one perfect mother.  
    There are only imperfect woman who love themselves – in spite of how they stumbled along the way.
     
    The depth of our self love is what we pass on.
    Mother yourself with love.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

  • “The Dash Between”

    The Dash Between

     

    Between the date when we arrive
    and the date we go away,
    there exists a horizontal line

    that captures every single day.
     

    And because these days we're living
    seem to vanish in a flash,
    we need to make the most of
    that special little dash.
     

    We are blessed with opportunities
    as we tread the grounds of earth
    to build the loving legacy
    our own dash will be worth.
     

    To focus on what matters,
    not on things we’ve owned or bought,
    and smile every chance we get,
    and love with all we've got.

     

    For the duties of our daily life —
    the job, the house, the cash
    affect the way we get to live
    our only little dash.

     

    So, appreciate the here and now
    as each moment will unfold
    because we're never told beforehand
    how much time our dash will hold.

     

    Don’t spend this time with worries,

    bitterness and fear.

    The future may be uncertain,

    but right now, your dash is here.  

     

    If you need to make some changes,
    let this be the day you start —

    to make a difference with your life,

    show the love that’s in your heart.
     

    For how you spend this life

    will someday be defined

    by everything that is remembered

    in the dash you leave behind.

    By Linda Ellis.

     

    I heard this phrase a long while ago and I loved it.  I have done art with those words.

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    Living your dash may change – as the years of life go by.

    It seems more intentional to me now – at this age.

    Paying attention to the energy each choice brings.

    I do much much more of things I love.

    Spending time with people who bring joy and live life more soulfully.

     

    None of us know the length of our dash, the amount of years between both dates.

    Instead of feeling like I have unlimited – the older I get, the more I realize there is a limit and I have used up quite a bit already.

     

    In looking for the quilts with this message, I scroll by so many pictures of love.  

    Family, friends, activities, adventures etc.  

    My dash is so colorful and filled with love, joy and peace.

    I am so grateful for all the highs and lows – the times of deep grief and sorrow and then the sunshine moments of pure joy.  

    We may not know the length of our dash, but we do have some choices on the contents.

    My intentions are to live my dash whole heartedly.

    Through the darkest times and the brightest.

    Always honoring what is right for me.

     

     

     

     

  • Remained true.

    In the basement on the bottom shelf were piles of photo albums – dating back to the 1970's  - 55 years ago – parts of my life caught in a photo.

     

    In the mix are friends, family and now estranged family members.

     

    I have steered clear of this pile for a few decades – knowing the ghosts that lingered there.

     

    While doing some major decluttering in our home – I knew it was time to go through the albums and to separate what I love and what will be tossed.  

     

    Many emotions flowed through me – as I sat by the hour leafing through the pages of my past.

     

    My heart melted as I was brought back to the early years of dating my husband and the early years of our marriage.  It is amazing how photos are like time machines – and some in the best way. I love us. Our solo trips and how we camped with the El Camino and Tent. Moments of love.

     

    Many, many photos of my children – during the seasons of their childhoods.  I love them – and how quickly the years have passed. Recalling their natures and the different personalities and fun times I captured.

     

    Photos of my friends during high school  - and old church friends – some I haven't seen or spoken to in what seems like a lifetime.

     

    And the ones I dreaded to sort through were photos of my family of origin.  Photos that now seemed fake upon the backdrop of learning new truths.

     

    It is hard to articulate how familiar pictures take on a stranger tone. 

    And even worse the emotions that are now attached to these awkward moments.

    The photos do not accurately portray the contents of our family.

    But abuse is not photographed – instead it is the act of  'normal' or putting on a good front.

    Perhaps we even tried harder to make sure our cover – was covered.

     

    You don't see the real story in pictures – instead you see the cover up – or denial.  The normal going on – in the abnormal home.

    I don't even know how to classify my feelings of these.  The people I thought I knew – I didn't know – so who am I looking at?  The moments we capture as a family – in my mind – didn't have the undertow of abuse.  The memories of those day abuse didn't live there – but it did. 

    It is like seeing your denial in living color.

     

    The true nature of our family isn't in the pictures.

    It feels like we were all playing on the stage of life – in a play about a regular large family – instead of who we really were.

    I wonder how many families are play acting over truths and secrets.

    Surely we can't be the only one.

     

    I recall seeing our childhood pictures and the poverty and inability to have nicer things and feeling ashamed.  Even the shame at being poor in a large family – where more kids were added to an already poor home. IF only that was the only seed of shame.

     

    The deeper and more impactful shame is that of sexual abuse within the family – and even more so – the denial and the way our family marched on – portraying normal. Abused and trying to be normal.

     

    Those pictures are awkward at best now. 

    Yet they depict my childhood and most of my life.

    They do not feel like treasures I want to hold on to.

    My heart feels sad or alone or empty – with those pictures.

    My memories and the truth were miles apart.

    The space where denial lived.

     

    I can't deny my family of origin.

    I can choose what pictures and memories I take forward as heart moments.

     

    These were fun ones to happen on.

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    Clowns I made in my early 20's.  I forgot all about them.  I love them – and maybe have to make a few!

     

    I loved seeing my old projects – all the wonders my hands have made.

     

    The parts of me that holds no shame.

    A true part of me was creating even way back then.

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    And today's creations.  

    While my past holds much denial – my art has remained true.

     

     

  • Love to My Life.

    The times in my life where I felt I had little or no control, the times were it seemed that the 'wrong' side was winning, the times where it seemed fear and hatred had an upper hand – it was then that I needed to lean towards loving kindness.

     

    And turn my back and my thoughts away from them.

     

    In the early days I was not good at this. I believed I could talk them into sense. I thought by pointing out the errors of their ways – I could right the ship.

     

    What I failed to appreciate – all I was doing was spending my limited time on a fruitless endeavor.

    I did learn though. I learned that perhaps the person I was talking to, was ME.

     

    As the divide seems  to grow deeper and wider and the emotions lean towards fear and hate – I feel that some of us can also lean towards love, art, peace and joy. 

    We can instead focus on our sphere of influence and define it by the things we want most in the world.

     

    Isn't there a saying, you get what you put your attention on.

     

    Just as worry is a poor use of imagination – so is speaking to those who don't want to hear.

     

    What I know, is that I gave way too much of my energy and time and intentions to trying to change those who didn't want it.  Those who believe as they believe – until they don't.

     

    I also find comfort in knowing it isn't easy to change someone.  For, I don't want their beliefs and ideas changing me.

     

    Each of us are comprised of our morals and values and some of us can change our minds based on new information or life experiences. 

     

    What I believe today, is a 360 turn from where I began as a young adult.

     

    Mostly we need role models of goodness, courage, love, hope and strength.  Those who walk a walk of substance, resilience and thoughtful manner.

     

    It is International Women's Day – and the women who I aspire to – are those whose lives have walked the hard miles.  Women who had every reason to live in hate, fear and grief – yet have rose above it.

     

    In the moments where you have to accept the unacceptable – it seems you are given the space to chose light.

    Perhaps some of us are naturally light leaning and others are ignited in division and hate.

     

    I am not drawn to groups now who point fingers and blame.  I have experienced this and it left me alone and hollow feeling.

     

    What I feel we need more of are ways in which we can bring more kindness to the planet.

     

    In the moments where I wasn't able to change the minds and hearts of others, I knew that what they sowed they would reap.  I wasn't going to pile on their already overwhelming load of angst.

     

    But, we can learn from them.

    We can cultivate our lives to be more peaceful and understanding.

    Something within them is drawn to negative energies.

    "Birds of a feather flock together."

     

    That being said, I want my circle to be with those whose hearts are filled with compassion and understanding – and space.  Space to allow others to make their choices – even when they don't align with ours.

     

    Their freedom brings me my own freedom.

    I am free to walk away from them.

     

    Certainly there are things to be alarmed by – and yet we also know where our power is.  Who and what we can control.

     

    There was a moment in my life, where the world seemed upside down and backwards and where evil seemed to be winning.  

    I had to let it go.  

    I had to let go of my ideas that I could sway this energy.

     

    For the more I wrestled with it, the more I was entangled.

    What is the saying "Never wrestle with a pig because you'll both get dirty and the pig likes it." George Bernard Shaw.

     

    The fighting and engaging with minds and hearts that had no intention of changing, only messed with me, my life and my peace.

     

    I had to walk away.

     

    It wasn't in defeat – but in knowing that I wanted my life to be about love, peace, and joy.

    It was a great lesson for me.

     

    I was brought back to my tiny circle of influence – my life.

     

    Yet, I believe that if the majority of humanity live lives of kindness – there will be more kindness.  

     

    By changing my own inner awareness and challenging my own thoughts and beliefs, and by speaking what was true for me, I changed me.

     

    It is easy to point fingers.

    It is much harder to explore and examine your own life and the choices you make.

     

    In the past, I was a woman who felt the patriarchs were suppose to have more power.

    I was okay being voiceless and choice less.  It also allowed me to never be wrong – for I never made a choice – I followed.

     

    I was old before I started to make my own choices and to go against the male and power structures. I know there are many who are frozen in the second place seat. 

     

    I can't ridicule them – for they are me.

     

    I also believe that the more women who are empowered and lead lives of strength and courage, it opens up space for others to follow.  

    Here is a quote from Byron Katie that brought me much peace.

     

    “I don’t know what’s best for me or you or the world. I don’t try to impose my will on you or on anyone else. I don’t want to change you or improve you or convert you or help you or heal you. I just welcome things as they come and go. That’s true love. The best way of leading people is to let them find their own way.”

     

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    I am at peace with my way and my intentions are to bring art and love to my life.