The Power of Grace

I don’t think i am one to have a loss of words but i experienced something incredible this morning. How do I explain the strange that happened?

When i logged into my Facebook account, I felt power course through my body. My thoughts loosened, years of silence were broken and I spoke up about ill-treatment from my mother growing up. Relatives have not replied. No one liked my multiple posts that followed, either. But i am at peace.

So, now what? What happens next?

I know many of my blog followers do not believe in God. Not now and probably never will. But there has always been a flickering light deep inside of me, raring to light up my world. The light was starved and needed oxygen. I have gasped and let in what i was avoiding. Life!

I confess, “No more holding my breath.”

I wonder if my poetry and thoughts change from this day forward? Have i been released from generational bondage?

I suspect I might lose followers. You?

Time will tell how permanent this change remains. How strong I remain in this universe; A world of mystery shrouded in history.

Questions remain. Who was that man who gave away hope and preached truth? Who hungered in the wilderness for 40 days and hung on a crucifix for three moons.

As Mary has proclaimed Him risen! I proclaim His resurrection lives within me. 💗J

Waxing Moon

My mind is a jumbled mess. I tripped and fell, on a flat surface, after carousing jagged rocks along the Atlantic shoreline. Now I am without my camera lens. Fortunately, the camera is working. Me, not so much. There is an inner arousal that is not easily calmed.

all my breath
saved in each embrace
-eternity.

I wrote it, so I must have felt it. I desire such peace. And grabbing a few pillows, a quilt and a favored book should do the trick. Replay the waves as they swish through my presence. Recall the gull and heavy-handed wind, carry the landscape home.

Waxing or waning moon?
Should I not spend
two drops of sun oil
on a loyal friend?

img_1495In the brisk
warmth of summer’s kiss
I shouted
towards the hovering freeze.


a little bit of this…

I submitted a poem for the April 2017 prompt on Sharon Wagner’s blog, Indiana poet Laureate, 2017, and it is posted here.  If you could see me in person you would see my bashful, anxious side.  The one that questions everything I do.  Am I good enough? Most likely not.  Why do they like my poem? Most likely reasons I would rather not know.  I am self-destructive.  Even if I were to be a successful writer I still would never believe I am.  Self-pity? No.  It is real this self-deprecation.  Regardless it is not healthy and I realize that but I will never overcome an ingrained habit from childhood.  When a child hears voices in the next room talk about how my dreams will never materialize, I am not good enough and every other put-down imaginable is said out loud it damages your psyche.

I missed out on the poetry reading last Thursday because of my self-consciousness.  It may be a fault most creative types experience.  I have heard over and over others who write, draw, dance or act that they are forever second guessing, editing ad-nauseum and hiding in the dark.  For those who overcome, find courage and fear is left behind, I applaud you.  You are much further along on this lonely road we tread.  Be well.  J

untitled

Authors Note:  I was hesitant to post this as it is spun from a very dark time.   I hope it causes no alarm for those who have been in a similar place or potential harm to those suffering as I write.  Be well.

Life, a puzzle, is her mind.

A storm brewed -ruminations,
day and night.
Knives to handle,
braced -the base of her neck.

Longing gaze
towards the kitchen window,
no coverings found
to hide -hollow eyes.

A braided rope
seductively slithered
around and through,
she thought to flee -no such place exists.

Like a gazelle, a lion in pursuit, she beat the odds. Survived.

The finality of the situation was not met with fanfare. No ticket-tape parade or confetti-induced speech. The affects were invisible to all but the discerning. Those who saw the glow in her sacred eyes met the mountains summit; those who reached, swore they touched the sky.

Share your world…

Interesting questions this week! 😍

Does your first or middle name have any significance (or were you named after another family member)?

My middle name is Elizabeth after my Aunt Betty. I prefer my middle name as it is more feminine, but i compromise by spelling Jean as Jeanne. (I am not John, that was my brother.) 

Music or silence while working?

Silence. My thoughts need to be my own and not compromised or dirtied. I do listen to music before and after I write, if and when I feel secure in what i have to say. 

If you had a special place for your three most special possessions (not including photos, electronics, people or animals), what would they be?

No possessions are worthy to fret over. It would be the special places, such as the mossy seat at the bottom of my fav tree in the middle of the forest of our lakehouse! And the possession would be my thoughts to store away in a found crevice. I leave myself behind in those woods. I feel like a shell most days. 

The Never List: What are things you know you never will do?

Be the ballerina i was meant to be. 😞 i might have mentioned this before but worth repeating as it makes me feel better to express my anguish. I was selected to dance in the Milwaukee Ballet’s production of the Nutcracker in the 3rd grade but my parents forbade me. It was a devastating blow and it is the only reason i feel i was born to be. Note: they never brought me back to ballet class because they had no intention to let me pursue dance professionally. 😭

Optional Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up? 

Looking forward to making a private space to cry. My thoughts are dreary right now and i so wish i was near a beach. Might have to make the 3-hour trek to the Dunes. Soon!!

gone

4/28/1971-3/1/2008

Its over. Its finally over. 

I can only pray its over.
It rushes back in time.

I appreciate everyone who stops and reads my blog. You have a special place in my heart. I created this “wordy” space to share my thoughts and heal my wounds. 

It has been a remarkable time. I plan on staying until my tears dry and the words run out. 

I am amazed i keep spilling and refilling. But i know, someday this will end…

Want to know?

Share Your World…small as it may be.

Ever run out of gas in your vehicle?Twice. True stories. I am grateful nothing of this magnitude has happened since 1998.

The first time (1987) I was “running out” of gas. I was driving home to Wisconsin, heading south on Hwy 94 from Ann Arbor, Michigan. I was traveling in the middle of a blizzard with three inches of snow covering my windshield. The wipers were not working as the snow was too heavy and wet. The side windows were not rolling down. So I started praying because I thought it would take a miracle to get off a busy HWY with cars passing me, probably going 50 MPH. 

And so it was a miracle. My car drove itself up an interstate ramp. I opened my car door to find my feet land in a gas station parking lot. I was lucky I did not veer left or right because I would have ended up in a steep ditch. (I tell this story a lot.)

The second time (1998) I drifted home on fumes. Fumes and a lot of prayer. I was over a mile from home and felt the car stalling. When I laid on the gas pedal it made no revving noise.  The fuel tank was empty. With each wheel rotation I whispered another heartfelt plea. The car and I safely skated home on hot summer tar. Once again I was saved by spiritual energy. (I tell this story often as well.)

Which are better: black or green olives?  There is a new olive at our grocery story that consumes my taste: a Chilean green olive marinated in spicy oil.

If you were a great explorer, what would you explore? I am a rock hound. I have several fossils and various stones collected from visited beaches, woods, deserts, mountains and even one piece of rock from a famous prison and an Edith Wharton stone picked up at her house. So, wherever I go, and only on earth, I would need to know there are plentiful earth pieces to treasure and carry home, that obviously would fit in my pockets.

Quotes List: At least three of your favorite quotes?



Optional Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up? 

Tears and more tears. I know smiles sprout eventually and it is the sorrowful seasons that bring wisdom and knowledge.

Family Story (yours and mine)

Everyone contains a history; hidden and unread.

My story means something to me and I write it for me, knowing most of what I have to say means nothing to you. The story is mine but it also belongs to the world (in a very small way). As yours…

A found diary
hidden for years
resurfaced, breaking through
piles of days
rising to form -a mountain called me (and you).

I stand at this crossroad, where once I crouched, sunk often to a corpse, crawling in search of water.  This moment contains burnt words, fire a destroyer, put out by flowing tears. The flames and smoke rose to God, a sacrifice, while the ash returned to lay a blanket over the earth.

I have been given another chance to be, more than once, and each aimless attempt lies dormant. A depressed state does not keep the world from moving forward, it keeps the person on the sideline, looking in, in apprehension, the thought to return stings.

Thoughts of being, being a memory to someone.

From the ash, I purposely construct a year of days. Hope holds on, to speed through the sky, come back to earth. This year is a challenge for me. If you deal with depression and anxiety you may understand my story may mimic your story.

All of life is inspiration to change the rubble into grace. Perhaps you may see yourself on this same path, looking at the same sun and wondering about leaves of the past. I acknowledge not everything is truth but it resembles it just the same.  Here and here are sample blog posts, of what I explore, while looking for answers. This place is where the roads converge, while living on a borderline, trying to cross.  2.4.2017

Japanese Garden

with fear and trembling
destiny’s road perishes
with courage
the horizon comes to light

Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others.
-Buddha

Adler’s psychological theory upholds the individual as the sole creator of oneself. This sentiment goes against every spiritual thought of mine. Our salvation cannot solely be fought alone. I agree wholeheartedly with Jung and the collective unconscious. We uphold each other, in conscious ego and dark of shadow. Yet, there is room outside the lines. The box that holds only so much air, must be pried open if we are to remain healthy. Sometimes that means we go it alone.

Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, May 2016

Have faith as a mustard seed: never give into obstacles, push the rocks aside, persevere in all adversity and let your light shine. 

Matthew 17:20, Matthew 5:16