Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

While watching Oprah yesterday I was able to see how another girl is working to make sense of her abuse by her father.  Although she also has to come to terms with her actions of killing him, she spent 18 years in prison. 

 

In prison she had no therapy, no help to sort this all out.  I am not sure where she is today, for she seemed confused.

 

What a mess this all is, there are relationships mixed in with abuse, and love clashing up against abuse, a child’s body being assaulted while the mind struggles to maintain the image of kindness while hiding the terror, a child threatened into silence and submission, unseen by the mother.

 

Her nightmare began at 8.  She remembers her mother asking him, and him denying, she remembers her father telling her there was no where to go that her mother knew and would not stop it.  She grew to resent her mother more for not stopping him.  In fact when her parents got a divorce when she was 12 she chose the father, for she felt her father loved her more!  Insanity at best!

 

Her confusion makes sense to me.  How she was able to see two men, not just a father.  That she would hate her mother for allowing this mess.  Somehow we feel that the mother should be able to stop this, to get the children to a safe place, we don’t expect the man to stop, and we know that we are unable to make it stop, so we look to her.  When she continues on in a so-called normal way we are left alone in this mess.

 

Ignoring becomes just as bad as the one who is molesting it becomes a dance between all involved, a dance in a vortex of insanity!  Her silence seals the space allowing this to happen her non-action says we matter not.

 

She said that it is abuse again to be asked why she allowed it to happen.  Why she didn’t reach out and try to do something.  Why she felt she had to Kill him, instead of going for help.  Again, they ask the child, ask her to be the one to stop the madness! 

 

We get left in an 8 year old emotional bankrupt body.  Our body does hold all our emotions, the fear, the terror, the anger, the neglect, the worthlessness.  And in that bankrupt state you want us to do what?  Please?

 

Yet how can we tell you, how can we articulate what we have to struggle through, how we are mentally incapable of knowing what is normal, for we never had normal. No normal for us.  No parent looking out for our wellness, our safety, making sure we were loved and cared for, nope.  

 

In a book I am reading “Art is the Way of Knowing” by Pat B. Allen.  “Art Therapy seems like a passport out of the dark swirling waters of my river.”

 

She was told to paint her dreams as vividly as possible, to then write about what the painting was saying.

 

As she did this she learned about parts of herself that was hidden, the fears, the blockages, the unspoken and unheard parts.  She was painting and finding her voice.

 

It seems to me, that by doing Art in whatever form, by writing it out and letting the words flow, we can slowly but surely gain the ground of sanity.  We can get ahead of the swirling river, perhaps ride the surface, knowing what lay beneath us respecting it and giving reverence to it, but not being affected daily by it.

 

They say that the bottom of the river is dark, murky, slow moving, and the surface is clearer.  I agree. In my world, the emotions are the river sometimes we dip deep and get lost for a while in dark pain, but then slowly rise to the surface.

 

How to explain to those who have only skirted around on the surface what the deep dark waters hold, the emotions, the pain, the terror, how they all leave you beaten and worthless inside.  How? 

 

Many live only in the dark waters, some get left below never to float in the sunshine of normalness, in the flow of nature, some are bottom dwellers forever.

 

When you see a person who has struggled to the surface, it may be best not to ask why it took them so long, how come they didn’t stop the darkness when it wasn’t their creation, perhaps it would be best to listen, to learn and applaud the swim upwards. 

 

We swim in starts and stops, in lunges and in retreats, in fear and then in terror of being sucked back down, we try to rise upward towards the light of hope, it takes a lot of courage to swim away from them.  They hold our love, our dreams, our hope, our self-esteem no matter how small, the little seeds of love get left behind, we swim alone.

 

It is only once we reach the surface that we see really see clearly where it was we were, until then you are asking one who lived in the dark forever, what the sunshine is like!

 

And it seems to me hopeless to ask why we didn’t arrive on the surface earlier, why it took us so long, the endless questions we too would love answers to.  All I can say, is I am here now.  I am here.

 

We can only share our experiences of living in the dark, and then how we were called to make towards the Light.  It is a journey of a million sorrows, one that you travel alone.  Some make it part way, others seem to go the distance, some never attempt to leave, we don’t know why.

 

I just will forever live in reverence to those who get left in the deep dark waters, and be grateful that I am one of the few to break the surface into a whole new reality.

 

“We are all great rivers flowing to the sea.”  A line in a Rumi poem I believe. 

 

The river inside of you has many levels. I found that mine is rather deep, with cascading waterfalls perilous to traverse, to swirling rapids to glistening sparkles on the calm surface.

 

We are all great rivers flowing to the sea….

 

We can look at life from two views, one where you are secure in the patterns you have cultivated or walking outside the patterns.

 

Do we think different and then act, or do we act different and then begin to think about life differently?

 

Why do we even have patterns, what is their purpose, do they really make life more controllable, more manageable?  Can we manage life, or does life manage us? 

 

Are we being shaped and sculpted by life?  Will the tragedies of life define who we are?  What is this all about?  Surely life isn’t just tweaking us about for its jollies!

 

Maybe we need to look at life from Its point of view, instead of from our point.  Our point will always seem personal, and limited.  Instead if you look at what life is trying to teach you, how it is trying to get your attention, how each situation is for inner growth.  We learn more and more about ourselves in places that are difficult, when our thoughts and beliefs are challenged.  Life sometimes seems to be stretching our limited thinking.

 

While pondering the patterns or being like Art, it occurred to me that many are in fear of stepping out of patterns.  Fear that locks them in a pattern, unable to just do one thing differently.  Yet sometimes we are tossed out of the patterns and the thing we fear the most happens!

 

It is in those moments we are then able to make a choice.  Do we sit in a broken pattern and work like hell to make it work, or do walk out of a pattern into a new foreign land fearlessly.  Not that there isn’t fear, but we step anyway.  Walk in the face of fear.

 

Fear inside of you can be excitement, high energy, thrilling, and scary all at the same time.  But oddly enough you feel very alive with razor sharp newness.  Doing anything new for the first time has your fullest attention

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As a student of a new way, learning and practicing until we have conquered the fear, adding a new dimension to ourselves.

 

We are all students doing things for the first time.  Just the first times may be different from person to person.  But I don’t believe that you get to come to this planet and not get lessons.  Some are hard won, some turn us upside down or right-side-up. 

 

It is not whether you will get a lesson, but whether you will succeed at it, will you be able to fearlessly walk.

 

In my experience, the greater the fear, the greater the lesson at hand.

 

We do have the choice of either standing in a spot and refuse to learn, and it will shrink us, or we can decide to at least try and see if we can do the lesson.

 

See what is. See what life has dished us up.  It is on our plates, now what?  What will you do?  What can you do?  What choices are now sitting there?  Can you see the choice?  Do you have the courage to walk, or will it be easier to sit down.   Sit down where?  Usually you are asked to sit in the middle of a mess and do what?  Learn to live in a messy spot, in discomfort and stress, learn to live with the anxiety within?  Or, you can take the mess and use it as fertile soil to grow into a better you.

 

We never know what is within us, what supports us, how the Universe always has our best interest at heart, until we are standing up to our necks or in over our heads in a sea of troubles!

 

When I found myself empty of inner strength and knowing, the Universe served me up just what I needed, always.  The right book arrived, the perfect situation for me to see where I was lost, an old friend appeared or a new one.  I was always supported, as I fearlessly walked, what I never knew was who walked with me! 

 

“You do not walk alone.  God’s Angels hover near and all about.  His love surrounds you and of this be sure; That I will never leave you comfortless.” 

 

This quote my brother shared with me, carried me along.  If I remember correctly the quote is from the Course of Miracles.

 

“There are two ways to live your life.  One is as though nothing is a miracle.  The other is as if everything is.”  Albert Einstein

 

Whether you live your life secure in a pattern or out beyond the lines, miracles happen.  Miracles are the way the Universe talks to us, can you hear and are you listening?

 

What is it saying?

Listen.

 

I have heard it said that prayer is talking to the Universe and meditation is when we listen. 

 

Listen.

The difference between tossing mail and doing Art Quilts is so wide, they are the complete opposites.

Yesterday I rode along on a new route, 236 boxes and 75 miles!  Dirt roads most of them, and we cross over the same road many times, go down this deadend, over to that deadend, onto this section of the road, back over to the other side.  I had to keep asking "so what road are we on now?"  I can't even imagine me doing this successful come Saturday, my first solo ride!

There is no room for creativity, we are driven by the mail in our hand.  The next pile of mail goes in a certain box, my fun will be finding the right box on the right road going the right way!  These boxes mean nothing to me, faceless people, names I hook up to the numbers on the box.  Perhaps they are more a number than a face.  Maybe the faces will be waiting at the box for their Mail on Saturday!

There is a typical way the mail routes are designed, and this route is non-typical.  We usually take only right turns, well mostly.  This route is peppered with Left hand turns, so many you turn around in circle! 

It is like I am made to follow a pattern in real life, from point A to B and now let's find C.  Now this is only after I have put the mail in the correct slots back at the post office. 

There are 236 slots in route order in the Post Office, like a pre-pattern to follow.  What a hoot that too is!  You have a letter in your hand, you read this unfamiliar name, on a unfamiliar road and you search the slots in front of you, racking your brain to remember where this one goes! 

You do this often enough you get the pattern down pat!  Then you become a mindless follower of the pattern, you can talk and sort, dream and sort, you literally will turn in the direction after awhile depending upon whose letter you have in your hand. You automatically know that this name makes you pivot to the right and your arm reaches either up or down, left or right!

Isn't that just simply amazing!

Now take doing Art Quilts.  No pattern, no automatic reaching, no pivoting here or there, well maybe, but you literally have no idea where you are going!

I love the differences, and I find that my body responds much more favorably to the Art Quilts.  My body seems happier doing quilts.  The mail isn't bad, but I just don't feel as alive.  Saturday I will be alive and tuned in and trying real hard to do it right, but after awhile, it becomes a habit.

Today I toss mail in my usual route, I know this one so well, that it is just pivoting and reaching, and then driving along listening to the radio, following the pattern, directed by the mail in my hand.

Now think about your day?  How many times do you do the exact same thing?  Do you take a new route, eat something new, do something new, wear something different?  Hey folks we are not on a Mail Route, you are free to take a few lefts and then turn a few rights, cross over, follow a new path!

The patterns of our childhood walk into our adulthood.  We get stuck going over and over the same tracks, pivoting automatically, mindlessly.  Mindlessly but not lost in our imagination! 

Lost in your imagination is dreaming while being awake.  Mindless is just robot like moving, doing without thought.

Somedays I get to do both!  I will even notice more now, how I get lost in routines, and challenge myself to step out and cross over to a new side of the road!  I am so lucky to have found the love to create quilts, quilts without patterns, to have dared to try, to learn to let go and play, to just find wonderful colors and let my imagination take me on a ride!   

We either ride the same route or dare to float free into a space of the unknown. Be a careless mail person and just go where you want, paying no attention to the old thoughts and beliefs of past!  Are they really set in stone?  Do they serve you today?  Do you feel alive and electric while moving about your day? 

I love how this life is so open and free!  Start slow if you like, just add a new scarf, a new haircut or color, maybe just a new color nail polish, or change up your usual breakfast!  The opportunities are limitless. 

Today I do have a pattern to follow, but maybe I will do something different, maybe a new radio channel, or a new lunch…..We can always look different while doing mindless tasks!   Make them a challenge, change them up!

Play with your patterns and soon you will have a unique pattern called you!

Mother's Day today.  A day for Mom.  A day set aside to honor, celebrate and remember your mom. What do children who are estranged from their moms do?  What is our role today?  If no cards match the situation, when all contact is severed, then what?  What can a child then do on this day?

Four Mother's Days have come and gone, four years gone by, here we are again.  Nothing has changed, nothing for me to do, nothing for me to send, no where to send it to.  It is not in anger that I sit, it is in knowing that as a child who left her mom, there really isn't nothing left to do. It would be like couples celebrating their Anniversary long after their divorce.  The date no longer carries meaning.  It is like the empty relationship, empty.

That one is empty, but I have another Mother's Day to take part in, for I am a Mom.  I sit on the other side of Mother's Day too.  This side is much harder then the child side.  This side is where you are the one to be the mom.  Being the Mom is not an easy job, it requires so much that we are not taught to do. 

Self-taught Mom…..but we practice on real kids, real babies, real lives.  And we don't have a lot of dry runs, or trial periods, nope, we are immediately on the job.

Sure we get re-takes, but only after injury, only after already hurting them and ourselves.  We learn and we try and we experiement in hopes that we can get it right.

Getting it right, now what does that mean?  How does a mother succeed.  Is it measured by how her child turns out, or by how she feels?  What is the measure of a Mom?

In my world, the measure is indeed how the child turns out, and if the relationship continues. For can you be a mom without having a relationship with your child? 

It seems to me this job has no end date, no stopping and getting off place, no when it gets to rough ditch the effort, but instead this is a life long endeavor.   It is a dance that lasts a lifetime.  A dance between two souls. 

One soul carries the other into this world and is responsible unti they reach an age of being able to take care of themselves.  We are here to assist, we do not own their lives.  We are here as training wheels, as counselors when asked. 

Allowing the other the freedom to express themselves and to grow and eventually leave the nest. 

Besides the relationship with yourself, this to me is a very challenging one!  We are literally in charge of little souls and we are there to protect and serve them until they can do it on their own.

Protect?  Boy that is a hard one.  Sometimes in trying to protect we hurt.

Serving their needs too is a tricky spot for their needs and what we feel they need are sometimes worlds apart!

Mom.  Such a simple little word, a word that carries the wellness of a child.  Imagine that?  Is that possible?  It seems to me it is.

My children's emotional and spiritual wellness does depend on me, we are the ones responsible for that. Now we surely should have been told this before jumping and taking on 4 souls!

We do this job together, they teach me and I teach them, they reach out and I pull them back, I go overboard and they yank me back, little by little we both grow into our roles. 

So for anyone who is still in this dance, who isn't sitting on the sidelines, but in the middle of the dance, learning new steps each day, turning with each new beat, today is the day we Celebrate you.

Let's Celebrate those Moms who are still dancing, in shoes that are too tight, in spots that seem too small or way too big, in areas we never thought we would go, in the joyful steps and ones filled with sorrow!  I celebrate those moms who are willing to jump into hellholes and ones who can jump for joy! 

Happy Mother's Day to all the imperfect women dancing this dance!  Perfection is not required. 

Perfection can actually ruin many a great mom, for all we need is one who can admit they were wrong, that perhaps their beliefs were not in reality, that their actions did hurt, that we hurt and they didn't see.  An imperfect mom sees where she didn't see before, hear where she didn't hear before, and act where she didn't act before…..Imperfection is required. 

Happy Mother's Day to all Imperfect Moms!   Is it possible that imperfect moms create perfect children?  Children who will then learn that to be perfect is to be imperfect.  That they are not only allowed to be themselves, but it is a requirement!

What a wonderful gift you can give your child if you show them your imperfections.  And let me tell you for me, those come easy…..my life abounds with imperfections. 

We all have imperfections, even if some pretend to pretend they are not there.  Imperfections are ways we have learned a better way, are places where we failed and have not given up.  Imperfections are life's lessons lived out in real time. 

Hats off to all the Ladies who are being an Imperfect Mom……you open the door to allow your kids to enter into a space called Self!

I am living the life of a Transplant.  Transplanted into a new garden on the journey called life.  I believe that not many of us are so lucky most get left in the garden of their youth.

While my last few blogs have been about flowers, I wondered about the area I am now blooming.  How is it that I have a new garden, I am not a new flower, but it seems that I no longer live in the same plot.

A few days ago I happened upon a bloom from the garden of my father's father.  It was weird and it transported me back in time to the folks of that era and it had me wondering just who began that garden?  Victims in a garden of dysfunction, how is it that I was transplanted out of there? Why?

As I walk around this familiar town, I see fragrances of long past, those tied to my old garden, still unable to uproot themselves, it gives me pause.  Mostly what I see are invisible signs, "not this way"…pointing my away from them and their garden.

A transplant no longer fitting into their soil, their plots and stories, and I am still without a firm grasp on this new garden. Well perhaps still not a good grasp on me.

Who am I, and what is my purpose and who do I serve?  These questions are tossed my way in the many books that I have read in the last 5 years.  Questions, and the answers keep changing.

We never know what makes a transplant thrive, what allows it to take root in the new soil, in a new place.  I would like to think that it is a two-way road.  The soil has to be perfect, and the transplant has to be willing to stay.

Stay to make it in a new place, with new surroundings, doing new things, with strange soil.  Soil that is new and untried, unfamiliar but somehow safe, a clean slate to bloom yet again, welcoming to an unfamiliar guest.

We need each other to be successful, without a place to plant myself, I will surely die, and  it will be without blooms, just soil, no flowers or guests.

Gratefully I select a spot, feeling the soils content, is this the place for me, will succeed at blooming here, could it be?

A new home, a new reality, a new garden, a garden of reality!  What grows here?  Who will I become? What happens upon this new garden?  Is it the same?  Many more questions for sure!

Guess all I can do is wiggle into a spot, stand in my own truths, and see what reality brings.

Transplanted and eager to see if the roots will appear, will I bloom differently here, will my colors be the same?  It seems that no one but me can see the difference or notice the transplant that I am, perhaps the transplanting was done within?

Within?  Transplanting took place within?

No wonder no one knows, just as no one could see the abuse.  All takes place inside.  We bloom inside, we grow inside, and we die inside. 

I transplanted myself inside of where? What is different inside me now?  It would seem that the old flower bloomed from fear, I bet this one blooms from love.

Love.  Inside of me is Love.  Self Love.   I took the old me and transplanted me into a new plot of soil, the soil called Love. 

It seems we are given two choices.

We can either grow in Love or Fear. 

And both are done within.

Twenty-two years ago we got married.  At the time we are so innocent, hooking up and stating we will stay together forever, through sickness and in health, the good times and the bad. What do we know?  How can we possible state that? 

I do know that if I had prior knowledge of what I would put my husband and family through, there is a real good chance I would have stayed alone. Yet looking back and where we all are now, that would have cheated us all of an experience of growth.

Growing isn't done in the calm waters, or just sitting on the shore, nope, it is done in the  midst of great turmoil and angst.  It is then you get to see just who it is you are and for certain who is strong enough to be your man.

There is a song…."Are you strong enough to be my man" I believe it is by Cheryl Crow.

The Universe seen to it that I had a strong man at my side.  For that I am forever grateful.  We each had to do our own walking, but it helped that he could simply walk by my side.  Just be there. We had no clue how this would all end up. 

He married one woman and ended up with a totally different one, and I guess he too has changed lots, yet the core of ourselves have remained the same.  The very thing I was attracted to was his independence, that he followed no man. 

He taught me to stand alone, strong and be me.  And he is so accepting of others, allowing space, that too is what I needed the most.  Just a place to figure me out. 

After 22 years, a mountain of growth, miles of learning, we in the end are still perfectly perfect for each other, Today.

I have come to learn, that today is all we can promise.  I love you today.  That is an honest phrase, for we can't promise out too far, and in this moment, the way things stand, I know that I love you.  I will always be honest, to me. 

What a lucky lady I am!  Lucky in Love.

Before a Flower blooms, what does it see?  Does it know where it is headed, what it will become, does it need to, how does it just simply bloom?

 

Now I know that most of you already have thought of all of this, but it occurred to me, when a Post that didn’t make it to publish, was titled Bloom.  Last word of the blog was Bloom and it stayed with me.

 

So here it is Spring and flowers are coming up.  They have been sitting in the darkness, below the surface, and one day the peep up.  Are they so enthralled with what they see, that they don’t even realize who they are? 

 

Are they comparing themselves to the ones next to them, are they wishing that they had a certain color or petal size.  Is inner mind chatter going on?  Or is it possible that they just simply bloom.

 

Bloom.  Standing tall in whatever shape or size and color, and for as longs as their blooms last.  Do they barter, bargain and plead to be something other than what they are, are they frantically searching for food?

 

Coming from darkness, perhaps they are just so excited to See!  See and feel the sun on their faces, the breezes that ruffle their petals, the raindrops that clean their faces, to the bumblebees that stop and help them spread their gifts.  I bet they sit and watch the birds, hear their wonderful songs, to the little flutter of butterfly wings. Imagine the shock of going from darkness to sitting in your garden!

 

To sit in the garden, did they know that was where they were headed as they stretched and pushed and reached? Does it matter to the flower how it looks? 

 

If I was a flower, one that just peeped up, I wouldn’t care a fig what color was my dress, my head size, the length of my leaves, I would simply be in awe of all that surrounded me.  Imagine, what they see as we see them. What kind of characters happen upon them, as they silent bloom? 

 

I almost feel like it is a joke on us.  Like they are doing this naturally, taunting us that they can, while we are continually seeking to become something other than what we are.  Fearful always of our life span, where we get our next this or that, instead of just blooming.

 

Blooming.  I think today I will bloom.  I will be like a flower and just simply see what happens upon my garden.  You surly don’t see flowers running for water, calling out for more Sunshine!

 

I had somehow lost the relax pose, the allowing stance, the playful quiet attention to now.  In my excitement of being out of the Darkness, I hurried trying to get ahead of the seasons of my life.

 

Life will unfold, my time-span is already marked down, all I ever need will come my way to Bloom Perfectly Imperfectly Me.

 

“The Lilies of the Field, they toil not …..”

 

I don’t know what kind a flower I am…..but rest assured all I need is heading my way!

 

No mistakes, I wasn’t supposed to be petunia and am now a dandelion!

 

The mistakes Is I am guessing before I really bloom….running ahead of the Universe!

 

We surely don’t see confused partial flowers, a part rose/petunia mix.  Unless man comes along and creates such a deal!

 

Bloom, yep that is what I am going to do, planted perfectly right where I am!  Knowing inside of me lay the blueprint, the design, the ultimate seed of just who I am.

 

I know that I will not die with my music un-played, I just don’t know the exact song I will sing!  That is the beauty of Life, the mystery, what keeps it alive and exciting. 

 

We get to experience the experience of blooming, of becoming all that we were destined to be.

We get to witness the miracle called life. 

 

Some may be early bloomers, not I!

I somehow know that I still have blooming to go.

Meanwhile, I just sit and watch the characters that come and go, the sunrise and sunset, the birds and butterflies fly. 

 

How grateful am I, a Lily.

 

Does Life reveal its truth or do we change our minds? 

Is it the mind that gets new information?

If reality is just sitting there, and the mind comes along? What makes the mind see or not?  Who shows the mind reality? 

Show?

Who is showing and who is seeing…. are there two?  The looker and the one showing!

Reality sits, the mind comes along, what makes it agree with reality or dispute it? 

The mind seems fickle at best and feeble most often, especially in the case of an Abused Mind.  From my experience and again to quote Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor, it literally takes the least amount of information from reality and weaves the most plausible story. But it is a STORY.

So, would it be more true to say, you have reality and a story happens along and either they agree or disagree? 

I also know that we can get lost in our Stories of what our lives are like.  Imagine lost in a story about our-selves, and not in the reality of our lives.

If I had to place a bet, I would say that Reality is the Shower, and our Stories are the lookers.  They look and they either weave another silly chapter together for us, or we agree with reality and then we have to unravel a silly sad story of our past.

“Do you see what I see, A child, A child…..” is a refrain from a Christmas Hymn.  That tune would pass through my head many a time!

Somehow the Shower or Reality had gotten my attention and when I placed my story up against it, reality reigned supreme!

The mind story has no vested interest in the truth or reality.  NONE!  It literally just has fun playing around with words and creating this fictional place to be.  And I believe I learned how to do this as a wee small girl who found herself in a land of terror with someone she loved.

This may seem very odd, and even very confusing, but try walking along in your story, and then having it bump up against a totally different version.  I mean like not even close, like comparing apples to oranges! 

Some Realities can take your breath away, your life’s dreams, hopes, from the pasts and into the future, and flips them into a tailspin, a spiral a vortex that has speeds that boggle the mind!  In fact it actually spun me out of my mind!  I was sitting smack dab in the middle of reality!

In one fell swoop, from mind to reality in one point two seconds!

Left sitting with a fairy tale in my hands, trembling with fear, like falling into a movie already in progress, and your scripts don’t even begin to match! 

What changed?  My Mind?  Reality?  Where did I live?  What is real, the mind or the actual living breathing walking around reality?

Byron Katie is a lover of reality.  I am now too. But first I had to love a horrible reality.  Oh and that was so hard to grasp, let alone love.

I simply loved what I saw that was right.  I didn’t have to love it love it, but had to love how it all matched.  An action, the word, the feeling all matched. 

It was like going around in a demonic Sesame Street, singing “Two of things belong together, one of these things just doesn’t belong….”

I no longer could afford the long past relative relationships to guarantee that IT had my best interest.  I had to re-look at every thing, every action, every word, and almost glean the Intent, to see who they were and what was there deepest intention. 

Forward marching, forever watchful, keenly listening to the energies behind the words, I moved on.  Slowly but surely I could see where my mind had me living in the darkness of reality, but painting it sunny.

Yet it is the same glorious mind that painted for me as a child, a small frightened, alone child.  It made it pretty.  Imagine that, IT made it pretty. 

I bless that mind, and curse that mind……I know it’s curious ways.

Many long years ago, I could not stand in reality, too frail was I, but now that I had to walk back there and see the destruction, now I can.

We learn to walk again, talk again, see again, but this time in sync with Reality.

Oh my mind rides along….yes it does, I can almost see it idle, maybe humming along watching birds, hoping and praying for me to lose sight yet again, for then it will have a job.  A story to write, a life to live….

However I am wiser, larger, awake and so loving this life, that I simply can’t see me handing it over.  Rest assured that there will be moments up ahead where the natural reflex is to duck or tuck tail and run, but I always hope that Reality will pull me back.

I ponder now, that sunny escape place of my childhood, I wonder what I dreamed of there?  Is it possible dreams come true?  Am I here now?  Did I pray and Someone heard?

I love the Sunny Side….for I have lived on the Dark Side.

This must be what a flower feels like to bloom.

"Freedom will Cost you the Mask you have on."  Florinda Donner

In a past blog, "freedom bus" the way you drive is maskless, and all you see their masks seem to slide off.

Now you would think it would be easier to be maskless and how simply glorious to see the folk without a mask.  What if you see your parents without a mask, what if behind their mask of kindness, is a mask of dysfunction.

It usually happens that way, it is not like you lose the mask of Molester, to find a Father beneath, nope, it is the other way around.  So we are asked to give up our parents, the familiar is replaced with the unknown.

And the harder part is what to do with these maskless creatures, these parents now exposed as 'monsters'?  You see the same face, the same body, coming from the same house, same habits, but you now know that beneath that face, behind that smile, lay an ocean of past truths and misdeeds.  Enough to leave you breathless, hopeless, parentless!

Now What? The awkward pose for sure.  You have two choices, let them keep their mask on, and then you too don the mask of Pretend.  The second choice is harder, you have to be the one to stop the Legacy of Masks.  You have to be the one who is strong enough, courageous enough, love them enough to no longer play the game of hiding behind the Masks of Dysfunction.

To be the one to walk maskless is a walk to freedom for sure, but it may also cost you freedom from a family you love.  You may not be accepted maskless, you may speak words they don't want to hear, and not say the things they do. Your actions or walk may put more space than closeness, and you have to walk away alone.  You and you alone will decide. 

Something within you can no longer live the life they require, or it is harder to pretend, then to live a life in reality of knowing.

It seemed I happened into a spot of knowing too much, I could no longer pretend to pretend to pretend that they were the parents in my mind.  I had to honor my inner knowing, my truths, my experience, and maskless I turned away.

There are no cheers, no please come back, no, instead you will be made the one who is wrong.  You become the wrecker of the family, the one who jabs at a mother who can't do it, and it becomes your fault.  Some how in their eyes, we become the problem!

Yet it becomes a problem to stay, for it will cost us our freedom, our peace, love and joy, to remain behind our mask of pretend.

The mask of pretend, as it falls, we find ourselves standing free, outside of the family, raw but alive, hurt but feeling oddly strong, seemingly for the first time a separate unit.  Shockingly free, unattached to the legacy of abuse.

Now what?  Where and how?  Like a newborn free spirit we feel for the first time, see and hear all things in a brand new way, it truly is to be born again, a maskless human being on a Spiritual Journey called life.

Maskless and Free, you now get to learn how we were naturally, how innocent and untouched, unspoiled.  We step out with a new sense of self, a new hope that our futures are free of the legacy.  We get to begin again.

May the Sun shine upon you and give you peace, love and joy, you do not walk alone.  All souls who are lost in the darkness wanting to see, cheer you on, you are marking the Way. 

There seems to be two sides of Art, the Darkness and the Light.

I am not sure how or why, but sometimes in Art the darkness gets to come out, no Light.

 

It seems that the Light of Art is very illusive, teasing, taunting, wild, free, exhilarating, speeding, unknowing, all knowing, and if you catch a glimpse, it as it speeds on by, snag it by it’s tail! 

 

Hold it and follow. 

 

For the Light of Art is leading, It knows the way, you are merely along for the ride, astride an energy bundle.  You never know which way It’s going, the directions are not given, the answer is not forthcoming, questions futile, for the Art is long gone, and all you are left with is the completed project.  It always leaves you to wonder, How did IT happen!

 

I have rode this ride a few times, I simply called it play, I understood the ‘untaught ways’ and fearlessly accepted.  As you playfully snag the tail, you will never see the head, for to see the head is to get Ahead, and if you are A Head, you know where it is your going.

 

Ahead and affront of It is not how this ride is done

 

“….hanging on to his coattails” came to mind. The coat tails of Art!

 

I am a perfect student, for this thinking part is not part of me, and I blindly followed where it leads, never doing but this Now step, surprised and delighted with what I did, but had no idea of how I got there.  Sheepishly and humbly I sit with It’s creation in my lap.

 

Letting go, relaxing, playing, being curious, you know it seems that to Do Art, you have to become childlike again.  To sit back and enjoy the ride, no worries, no stresses, simply play.

 

I love this, for this is my chance at a second childhood, and man could I use that!  Remember the phrase “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

 

That question releases the hand from the tail.

 

To be an Artist, you have to get out of the way.  Let the creative genius have access to you, your hands, your talents, your passions.  It is there that the two of you will perform the most exquisite dance, the dance of being you!

 

So perhaps no one ever dances alone, we just think we are.

 

Make it a pretend playmate, one that will dare you in places of wild excitement fearlessly.  Talk to it, play with it, challenge it, just see who can dream the bigger dream!

 

The tail, that is all you see of It as it drags you along…. 

 

 “daddy slow down some cause you’re making me run….” A refrain from a country song…is humming in my head.

 

The genius of Art need us to be the magician to be the creator the fashioner of It's dreams!  I almost believe we are created merely to play out Its Dreams, and here we think we are playing out ours.  Who is leading this charge?

 

The Dreamer or the Dream?

Do you know yours?

Can you see the trails, the signs, the droppings from the Genius?

Look around, and I suspect you too have one trying to get  your attention.

Glimpses is all you get.

 

Playfully accept Its hand, swinging it high, you are in the field of pure potential, again.

 

The playground.