Drum Circle

A new experience presented itself within a community to celebrate positive energy. This was most of the group’s first time being together. The hour started with rhythmic drum beats mimicking the heart’s life force.

There were 15 of us, each with a drum and another percussion instrument. This video is the third of four sets, each naturally lasting between 12-13 minutes. The group leaders did little to manipulate each interval of creative expression. They flowed as swiftly and gently, or vigorously and bountifully, as the Nashua River, deep in the Valley of Oxbow.

As the hour progressed, a golden hue encompassed us. We said farewell to the sun. Then to each other. Look forward to another drum circle September 12.

drifting dragonfly
heartfully-winged escapade
soaring fantasies

Mantled Baskettail

It is as if…

Where to start? It is as if my life is being lived in one day… with no way to slow down. Juggling between need-to-do and want-to-do and compromising. All this beauty is descending upon my head in rocket speed… the town i have moved to is bursting at the seems with poetry and dance.

Harvard MA was home to the Alcott’s and other Transcendentalists who started a Utopian Society at Fruitlands. I am in love with the philosophy.

All matters of life are to be sipped here.

I am gulping… famished from years of neglect. I am bathing in this community and coming alive.

To be continued…

Even the air… intoxicating!

i am not neglecting you. personal musings unleashed.

Sorry i have not had time to peruse your blogs. I am usually quite attentive. Of late i am swirling in personal obligations. Life is happening… again. I am fully alive and grateful to have passed through ten years of darkened days, oft taken for night. Days of sleep are now past. I am busy setting up a home in Massachusetts. Last week was spent in Cape Cod while our red oak floors were refinished. The floors are beautiful again. I am feeling beautiful too! 😍😘😊

Never have i felt so at peace. Not since Christmas 1990, when finally in 1995, i was awakened to grace and forgiveness… my rollercoaster emotions in 2008 took me drowning in feels of self-defeat. Grief. Guilt. Despair. A season of MDD with psychosis set in. Luckily minds change. So mine is too! For the better. A healing is happening in this house move.

I will get to your blogs. In time. I have not forgotten you. You matter. I will be by soon enough…

some of my time spent in art galleries…

personal musings unleashed

We really do not know each other, do we?

Years were spent cultivating all these hateful thoughts. Up until today, all that is wrong with life, seemed to be my fault. I easily accepted blame and never fought the day my mom banished me from their life. I was not the daughter she wanted and I constantly told myself it was my fault. I really believed awful things, that ruminated in my inner conversations. I tortured myself with thoughts of hangings, driving over bridges and splashing into rivers, jumping from a third floor apartment window while pregnant with my first daughter. Or recently, recklessly scraping a knife across my neck and wrists, aimlessly staring out the kitchen window above the sink, while I witnessed a small trickle of blood seep out. The drops slid down and pooled near the drain. Blue dreams turned red. Hot and bothered, I quickly fed myself more lies.  I truly believed I did not deserve life. Lies I recognize now. Lies taught to me. Lies I easily fall back into when I am not staying present in the day.

I am not looking to place blame. Oh, well I will blame myself for getting caught up in a web of lies. Lies that told me I am no good…

I  believed that I was no good for the longest time. Therapy has done wonders for my soul. My heart and head no longer bleed needlessly. Only when I forget who I am.  I have learned to fight back. I am not cut by my own hands or any one else’s for that matter. Not anymore.

During this personal awakening, I have ventured to places I should not have. I became too brave and traipsed where I did not see the wrongdoing on my part or the wrongdoing of another. I enticed it to go on longer than it should because of feeling alone. Sometimes I want to indulge myself more. Whisper sweet things to strangers. They do not mind. Neither do I. But I am hurting people, including myself. It just has this turn on not easily turned off. Then realize I am not truly alone.

I live in a self-enclosed loneliness because I am afraid of true love. I begged for love during childhood and I simply do not understand real love. When it showed up, I fought and fight against it. Trying to convince others I am no good. They should kill me too. Surely make it easier to die, than by my own hands. I even had a cop ready to take his gun from his holster. I pushed just enough. But really not enough. I retreated from the edge. The dryness I remember. The trying to swallow while the heat rose from my feet. What was I asking for? Was this fight really worth anyone causing harm to another?

All these words sprout from somewhere deep… some words remain shallow and swim close to the edge of my skin. Others are dying for air and I happily let them out. Luckily for me, the words mostly die the minute they hit the atmosphere. Nothing survives without oxygen and these thoughts greedily suck up all the oxygen my body consumes. Often I am left with little but carbon dioxide. I am not a plant. Not even a humble clover or Venus Flytrap, as some men like to portray me. I need oxygen. I need to breathe.

——–

I know what would have happened to me had my past plans come true. But do you? Or would you even care?

Heck! You do not know me. Why do I think you do? Or want to.

How much do we want to know about others? Or others to know of us? It is easy to write. Well, not always. I struggle and then I struggle again, with posting. But I do write. And I do post. It is all here to read. Until it is no longer.

I think and rethink myself over. Over and over I turn the bells in my head and they always ring twice and I still never hear them. Do you?

Book Review: And Other Things

Hey! Bought your book… perhaps i should do a book review? My first impression, because poetry books are more than words to me… because i desire a vision… and while i witness your book, i first notice the layout of the page. Anyhow….

And i was given permission. Because i asked. Hell, i could just do it. It is my healing and i read other’s poetry to heal. Right? But no worries, i am not here to rip any one or any poem apart. Who is qualified to critique a writer? No one. These are our souls being spilled and they belong to us… shared because no one likes to be alone forever. Well, at least i don’t want to be alone and i am happy Layne Ambrose choose to share these gems in a book. I was happy to buy it knowing I was partaking in a feast of words and images that just might spark something inside me.

——–

Sunday was spent on Crane Beach, Ipswich MA, enjoying some light poetry. Well, these poems were light to me because its pretty tame compared to how i often feel, but rarely let loose. See, i think i know a bit about what is happening behind the scenes in his poems. But not really. I still like to think so.

Here is a clue to my thoughts and one of my favorite poem endings, which happens to be the last poem in the book. Yes, i always read the last poem first!

When I Get Away

see, maybe its easier to digest news on the beach… i figure most of what i read is lies…

Nothing comes in too clear, from far away… all appears to lie down with the lion.

The book is chock full. It will be a book i often drift back to. I am in the process of wondering how the poems fit in order on my time line. My order of awakening.

So i wrote….

i threw out
all the words, carousing
i forgot the letter
sent on a whim -toil of a bird
fighting the wind
perched higher still

seagull laughs
heads off
the sail of a boat -off shore
there is no going back for me

any more.

There are many more poems i loved. This is truly a treasure to help me find my feelings. The book also works as a reminder as to how far i have sailed off the shore, building my wings as i soar.

Tread carefully…

One day. Twenty-four hours. I turned from wanting to interact with others to bonafide afraid for my life. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. Stinging nettles in my eyes. I can barely see to type…

Be wary of strangers. What you reveal in the throes of intensity. A passionate heart reels you in. Anger and cursing and wanting sex… glad i did not betray my privacy. Give out my number.

Feeling threatened by another blogger. I only want to write. Be friends. Explore the universe. So, please, don’t invite me into your hell to abuse me with cursing tirades. Your intention to destroy me should be shelved.

I won’t be contacting you even when my nature is to offer forgiveness and understanding. I do not trust a raging tiger with my life. My soul. Gladly i will go.

(You can contact me if you have remorse. I will accept an apology. Nothing more.)

Second time around

Chewing on Glass has done it again. What? Drug a deeply buried nugget inside me, up to the surface, in order for me to see the light! I am opening up the curtains!!! The difficulty will be to keep them open. I will try to remember nothing (good?) grows in the dark, unwatered and starved. (Thanks to Emotions of Life for giving me/you food for thought regarding good versus bad growth.)

All unbeknownst to Layne, I am grateful he stepped forward and shared this blog post. Today, i will scurry to sit and think and get some where with my brother’s suicide. This memory stuck in neutral needs to be eventually parked in order for me to move forward. What stands in my way? The screeching tires, the rubber worn, the honking ignored, the empty tank, the dirty windshield…

Finally, i may get a few answers. I will need to rake through powerful memories. I cannot be afraid of the truth. And perhaps i will find closure. Perhaps not. I cannot fear to face the sorrow. The truth as raw and ugly as it appears.

The questions remain… What happened? Is it possible to heal? Maybe i will figure this out. Maybe not. But i do hope my faith is restored.

Rambling on

I love people. ☔️ I cannot stand what words form in their heads, exiting through perverted lips. I am in disbelief as i witness the world change and not for the betterment of people. It demands i too become an ignorant follower of self. I cannot find the true church. I relish past hugs from the Holy Spirit. Wind swept, i remain in those cherished moments He spoke to me. I ask forgiveness for this insistent disbelief since John left this earth. I miss my band of friends in Indiana. We did not hang out as much as i would have liked but at least i did not feel so lonely. Soon i will take a drive to the ocean. I pray the waves settle my heart enough to sleep tonight💜 🌊 and not continue to pray my soul joins my brother in heaven.

Shedding some deep emotions.

This world makes me sad. Constant bickering back ‘n forth without thinking. It would be wise to remember love is the greatest gift we give each other. Wish people understood love. It is not sex. It is not about feeling good. Although those are two great gifts, love is about working through the pain we cause each other. Bearing the brokenness of the world, is love enough!!!

Here at last

Sigh. We finally made it to Boston! Well, on Wednesday we did.

I have been wakened from a deep slumber. It may have been a slow emerging but the move was not a gentle stirring. My life as i knew it has drastically shifted. I believe for the better.

While it seriously has been difficult to write I am content. The amount of pictures taken, sights heard and tasted, the feel of a place to call home, albeit only three months, is pure satisfaction.

I do miss my desk. Time spent alone. Next week will afford such space. Along with a chance to walk, pick up bus and T schedules, test out transportation options and go into Boston. Alone.

We took a drive yesterday to South Boston. Visited the Atlantic. Walked our Prince Louie! I tasted another bowl of New England Chowder. My first dive into tasting since moving here. On previous visits to Boston it was my goal to sample every restaurant’s chowder. Now I practically am in heaven with at least a monthly visit somewhere, to sample another bowl of creamy, buttery deliciousness.

Since we will only be at this location until the end of July, the majority of boxes were put in storage. I was met with quite a let down when i found out my paints, books and journals were placed on the wrong truck. What will i do until August?

I decided to bullet journal during these three lonely months and have been scavenging Pinterest for ideas. There are some mighty journalers out there. And a few on Instagram i follow. My Amazon package arrives Sunday and i can hardly wait to start doodling pages.

Today, an adventure awaits. A pizza tour of the North End. Our oldest daughter, who has lived in Boston five years, will join us to sample Boston’s Little Italy flavors with a few historic stops to hear stories of famous places and people who made Boston possible.

View of Boston from Castle Island in the Boston Harbor. It was quite the dreary day.

Prince Louie 💗 loves me!