Hmmm, it's kind of cool that there were no comments on my last posting. I'm assuming that's because nobody is reading this thing, so I can write with impunity, for myself. Andy's not in jail, by the way, if anyone is listening.
I'm writing this on a Saturday morning. Mornings are angsty for me, especially lately. Last night I had a dream about my old family, the way it was: me the wife, Kevin the husband and three younger children. We were in Anacortes and Kevin assumed I knew that we were going to spend the night in order to go to some festival the next day. I didn't know and I'd already made one ferry trip back home to get some money, but I still thought we were coming back home that night, so hadn't brought stuff to spend the night with. Wandering around a dimly lit hotel with lots of stairs, looking for the rest of the family, but lagging behind because of dashing home again. It looked more like a medieval castle than a hotel and there was one brightly lit conference room where people came in and sat for a presentation on how to stay there. I woke up, I think it was getting too boring. But one thought from reading A Fault in Our Stars yesterday stayed with me about my marriage in the dream: true love means keeping your promises. Hence, angst. Guilt over my divorce doesn't strike me too often anymore, but I think lately it has to do with wishing I were in relationship, wanting another chance at that. At least I'm clear about that wish. And even the kind of person I'd want to be with. But I know I have to be prepared for that not happening, ever again in this lifetime. To go ahead and build my life by myself. Or with friends. I am an introvert, but I do need and want relationships. The right kind, though I realize all are messy, and not perfect all the time. Oh yes, I've had plenty of time to contemplate that, just maybe not enough practice.
Sitting outside, cat on top of my forearms, playing Scrabble, birds singing, fresh cool morning air. No lawn mowers. No work today. Life could be worse. I've found a couple of really good players, hard to beat. Flirting through Scrabble is quite a challenge though. But at least you know you are dealing with brainy people.
The other thing I woke up regretting is that I never made it to my friends' organic berry farm all season. They are closed now. I did manage to put a couple of humpies in the freezer, so there's a little bit of harvesting. Just a tad though. It is a human trait to wish to accomplish...something I think my dad really misses as a frail 92 year old. He can't do too much anymore and it bothers. Things shrink down to just getting dressed or getting that oxygen bottle filled or eating a meal without dropping it in your lap.
I'm taking him to a puppet show tomorrow. There are art studios open all over the island this weekend. But I'm more inclined to stay home and do my own clean up kind of art. We'll see what the day brings. "Leave the doors open...prepare for great love."
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Monday, August 5, 2013
August Fifth, Son in jail
Andy, my dear sweet son, has hit the wall. In jail, weed in his pocket, no money, no job, wife fed up with trying to take care of him. In Ohio, far away. Combative.
What to do? From here? Not sure yet, the only information I have is from Frankie, his distraught wife. We both love him, but that is one of the few things we have in common. She's of another world, we don't argue, but we aren't much support for each other either.
If I bail him out, can I get him out here? Unlikely if he needs to go to court. I'm worried about him going to prison for being mentally unstable, combative and in possession. I'm sure that can happen pretty easily. Andy in jail is a horrible thought.
It's foggy here and I can hear one lone cow moaning somewhere. Sympathetic bovine. Life certainly does change fast sometimes.
Not sure what to do yet.
Stay on the side of Love, bat the Fears away if possible.
What to do? From here? Not sure yet, the only information I have is from Frankie, his distraught wife. We both love him, but that is one of the few things we have in common. She's of another world, we don't argue, but we aren't much support for each other either.
If I bail him out, can I get him out here? Unlikely if he needs to go to court. I'm worried about him going to prison for being mentally unstable, combative and in possession. I'm sure that can happen pretty easily. Andy in jail is a horrible thought.
It's foggy here and I can hear one lone cow moaning somewhere. Sympathetic bovine. Life certainly does change fast sometimes.
Not sure what to do yet.
Stay on the side of Love, bat the Fears away if possible.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
August: the month of disgust, or hidden wisdom?
So, my little baby alchemists, what is it we are supposed to be ingesting into our brains today?
The leaves are turning, the weather is cooling, people are frantically vacationing, quick, before it's cold again, hup, there goes another pair of bicyclists zipping by down below me, commenting on the log house next door, always a crowd pleaser.
I'm just pleased as punch that the part-timers down below me have honored my polite request to turn their porch lights off at night when they are done with them. Makes my outdoor sleeping experience infinitely more enjoyable.
My housemate couldn't sleep last night and spent awhile lying out in the backyard counting shooting stars around 2 am. That's another reason I admire her.
My latest ponder, besides how to retire early and direct my favorite play instead, is about Love, definitely with the capital to accentuate it from the everyday variety that we try and practice on everyone. Yesterday I realized that I have no choice in the matter, I simply Love where I Love and love where I love and don't love where I don't. I can try and pay better attention to where I don't, and that makes things more interesting, but doesn't necessarily change my emotions. I don't seem to have a choice, I can't make myself care for someone, just because they have expressed an interest in me. And, likewise, and more painfully, I can't seem to turn the emotion off when it is highly inconvenient and inappropriate to feel so. On the other hand, how can Love ever be inappropriate? Because, as I am quickly discovering, I would, and do, go to great lengths (or at least they feel like great lengths to me) to leave well enough alone and practice unrequited Love. Not very satisfying, but again, seemingly necessary and the no-choice thing. I don't want to be a hermit and a nun for the duration of this lifetime, but at this point in time, I need my quiet and my abstinence to ponder this situation. How did this happen? Why did it happen? I was just going along, dabbling in trying to meet kindred souls, but mostly just enjoying my solitary life, when boom, I get whomped upside the heart before I even see it coming. Life changed, seemingly irrevocably, in a matter of hours.
And, upsetting as it is, painful even, it is perversely joyful and wonderful. Make that "full of wonder". There are, I admit, many moments when I feel the fool ~ babbling to myself at the end of the dock, hoping that my feelings are transmitted like prayers to make the object of my affections feel...something, some good thing that will enhance his existence in some way, that probably doesn't have anything to do with MY earthly existence.
I have no wish to wallow in this. I have a life to lead, much to pursue and learn, not apart from, but alongside this new awareness. I cannot help but question the future in regards to this attraction I feel almost constantly (it can be exhausting, I love to sleep a lot lately) but questioning appears to be a complete waste of time. Much better to just get on with the continual awareness of Love and how it can be utilized to make the world around me a more loving place.
Now that I have discovered how unconscious I have been for forty years, I am allowed a glimpse of the immeasurable possibilities of awareness still to strive for.
May those shooting stars appear visible to us, and may our wishes upon them unfold for us all.
Loving Necessarily,
Roseamber
The leaves are turning, the weather is cooling, people are frantically vacationing, quick, before it's cold again, hup, there goes another pair of bicyclists zipping by down below me, commenting on the log house next door, always a crowd pleaser.
I'm just pleased as punch that the part-timers down below me have honored my polite request to turn their porch lights off at night when they are done with them. Makes my outdoor sleeping experience infinitely more enjoyable.
My housemate couldn't sleep last night and spent awhile lying out in the backyard counting shooting stars around 2 am. That's another reason I admire her.
My latest ponder, besides how to retire early and direct my favorite play instead, is about Love, definitely with the capital to accentuate it from the everyday variety that we try and practice on everyone. Yesterday I realized that I have no choice in the matter, I simply Love where I Love and love where I love and don't love where I don't. I can try and pay better attention to where I don't, and that makes things more interesting, but doesn't necessarily change my emotions. I don't seem to have a choice, I can't make myself care for someone, just because they have expressed an interest in me. And, likewise, and more painfully, I can't seem to turn the emotion off when it is highly inconvenient and inappropriate to feel so. On the other hand, how can Love ever be inappropriate? Because, as I am quickly discovering, I would, and do, go to great lengths (or at least they feel like great lengths to me) to leave well enough alone and practice unrequited Love. Not very satisfying, but again, seemingly necessary and the no-choice thing. I don't want to be a hermit and a nun for the duration of this lifetime, but at this point in time, I need my quiet and my abstinence to ponder this situation. How did this happen? Why did it happen? I was just going along, dabbling in trying to meet kindred souls, but mostly just enjoying my solitary life, when boom, I get whomped upside the heart before I even see it coming. Life changed, seemingly irrevocably, in a matter of hours.
And, upsetting as it is, painful even, it is perversely joyful and wonderful. Make that "full of wonder". There are, I admit, many moments when I feel the fool ~ babbling to myself at the end of the dock, hoping that my feelings are transmitted like prayers to make the object of my affections feel...something, some good thing that will enhance his existence in some way, that probably doesn't have anything to do with MY earthly existence.
I have no wish to wallow in this. I have a life to lead, much to pursue and learn, not apart from, but alongside this new awareness. I cannot help but question the future in regards to this attraction I feel almost constantly (it can be exhausting, I love to sleep a lot lately) but questioning appears to be a complete waste of time. Much better to just get on with the continual awareness of Love and how it can be utilized to make the world around me a more loving place.
Now that I have discovered how unconscious I have been for forty years, I am allowed a glimpse of the immeasurable possibilities of awareness still to strive for.
May those shooting stars appear visible to us, and may our wishes upon them unfold for us all.
Loving Necessarily,
Roseamber
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
End of July, 2013
I'm actually tired of writing about sadness. It's therapeutic, but I noticed there were no comments on the last post and that it was a continuation of the one before, for which I received a loving lecture from a dear friend telling me to look deeper and change, or that's how I interpreted it...
So, I want to pass on some advice I read from a FB friend this morning, thank you Lenedra.
"You would learn true discernment, dear ones? To discern is not to judge. Nor is it to fear or protect. To discern is actually to agree to see others as they are. As they simply currently are. To see them clearly without a lot of mental dialogue about it. This in itself is a great self-protection. It is when you see others as you wish they were or as you need them to be, or hope they are that you are most vulnerable, most often hurt. When you let yourself see another as they are, you make better choices about how to engage with them…and how not to. Agree with yourself that you’ll let others show you who and where they currently are and you will let that guide your relationships with them. This is a great art - get started practicing it now!"
And then, of course, the never-ending question we can ask ourselves: who am I? And, maybe slightly easier to start with: where am I now? I like the part about "without a lot of mental dialogue". Just asking the question without trying to answer it is a good thing.
I am grateful at the moment for many things including this foggy morning, the last dregs of my tea, the fact that I have time to eat some oatmeal and make my way to the library on time, and most especially for my friends far and wide. Plus the fact that I know there are prayers from the earth and the trees and the ocean and the sky directed at us puny humans. I want to spend more time listening to those lovely whispers.
I'm actually tired of writing about sadness. It's therapeutic, but I noticed there were no comments on the last post and that it was a continuation of the one before, for which I received a loving lecture from a dear friend telling me to look deeper and change, or that's how I interpreted it...
So, I want to pass on some advice I read from a FB friend this morning, thank you Lenedra.
"You would learn true discernment, dear ones? To discern is not to judge. Nor is it to fear or protect. To discern is actually to agree to see others as they are. As they simply currently are. To see them clearly without a lot of mental dialogue about it. This in itself is a great self-protection. It is when you see others as you wish they were or as you need them to be, or hope they are that you are most vulnerable, most often hurt. When you let yourself see another as they are, you make better choices about how to engage with them…and how not to. Agree with yourself that you’ll let others show you who and where they currently are and you will let that guide your relationships with them. This is a great art - get started practicing it now!"
And then, of course, the never-ending question we can ask ourselves: who am I? And, maybe slightly easier to start with: where am I now? I like the part about "without a lot of mental dialogue". Just asking the question without trying to answer it is a good thing.
I am grateful at the moment for many things including this foggy morning, the last dregs of my tea, the fact that I have time to eat some oatmeal and make my way to the library on time, and most especially for my friends far and wide. Plus the fact that I know there are prayers from the earth and the trees and the ocean and the sky directed at us puny humans. I want to spend more time listening to those lovely whispers.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
July, 2013
It's been awhile since I wrote here. I have no idea what will come out this time, I read back aways and wonder if anything much has changed. I did get some water in the rowboat to swell it up, maybe it will move out of the backyard for some rowing this season.
I have more sadness to process through. I hate to even say that, as it seems to turn people away, so enough said, it's my deal and hopefully I am finding the blessings in the loss. This time, it is clear that there is something absolutely beautiful and precious in loss. That letting go is hard work, but a vital process. I'm terrible at it. This writing is part of the endeavor.
I still live in a beautiful place, I am still pretty isolated, except by computer. My cats and dad are still alive. I am still alive, damn it. And I'm more than willing to laugh, and sing and dance and learn to tell good stories. I still haven't retired but there's still hope that I will someday.
I still sleep outside and dream out here too. Even today, which will be another hot one, there is a sweet breeze and much birdsong at 8:30 am.
I am currently reading a fictional version of the life of Anne Morrow, writer and wife to Charles Lindbergh, it's called the Aviator's Wife. I'm also reading a book about the drug epidemic in America called Clean by David Sheff and another book on posture called Generous Movement that a friend and I are studying together.
Just one more thing about the letting go thing. Being so close to love has made me see how much I want it. But I also see how I turn away from it, protecting myself. This time, the arrow got through my defenses and struck hard. And although I am hurting, I am immensely grateful for knowing I can still be struck. Now I just need to know I can love where love is wanted and needed and accepted. And then go for it.
May anyone who reads this have flowers aplenty to smell and see this season and the courage and energy to reach out to those you love and take a nice walk with them.
My blessings to all of you.
love, Rosie
I have more sadness to process through. I hate to even say that, as it seems to turn people away, so enough said, it's my deal and hopefully I am finding the blessings in the loss. This time, it is clear that there is something absolutely beautiful and precious in loss. That letting go is hard work, but a vital process. I'm terrible at it. This writing is part of the endeavor.
I still live in a beautiful place, I am still pretty isolated, except by computer. My cats and dad are still alive. I am still alive, damn it. And I'm more than willing to laugh, and sing and dance and learn to tell good stories. I still haven't retired but there's still hope that I will someday.
I still sleep outside and dream out here too. Even today, which will be another hot one, there is a sweet breeze and much birdsong at 8:30 am.
I am currently reading a fictional version of the life of Anne Morrow, writer and wife to Charles Lindbergh, it's called the Aviator's Wife. I'm also reading a book about the drug epidemic in America called Clean by David Sheff and another book on posture called Generous Movement that a friend and I are studying together.
Just one more thing about the letting go thing. Being so close to love has made me see how much I want it. But I also see how I turn away from it, protecting myself. This time, the arrow got through my defenses and struck hard. And although I am hurting, I am immensely grateful for knowing I can still be struck. Now I just need to know I can love where love is wanted and needed and accepted. And then go for it.
May anyone who reads this have flowers aplenty to smell and see this season and the courage and energy to reach out to those you love and take a nice walk with them.
My blessings to all of you.
love, Rosie
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