Moving Day is here!

Staying out of the movers way!
Looking toward the day
I can rest my mind and rhyme -Think!
Set up my writing desk
find a place to paint -Dream!
until then, i pledge
to stay out of the movers way.

The biggest day of my life, since i moved to Indiana, has arrived. From this day forward, i move without knowing the future. Security is in the past. Adventure awaits those who walk with eyes wide open.

Trying not to cry! Feeling the exhilarating new of Boston on my brow! My heart is racing, wondering what lies ahead.

And excited to have lots of time to read back posts. See you at your blog soon!

My Monhegan

I am currently working on a painting My Monhegan, an island off the coast of Maine. Monhegan is a place that encompasses 95% of my spiritual thought while a mere 3 days and 2 nights were physically spent there. It amazes how much an impact the place had on me. A healing calm took me over and i only have to slip on those hiking shoes to feel the embrace around my soul.

At least the ones i have conquered.

In the meantime, while rushing from one idea to the next, for the past three days, i realized something important. I don’t hear the rattling noises in my mind. At least not as often as i use to and only when invited in. The loudness has abated with a new found courage. I have tamed the angry heart that broke and mended the fabric tears. The tears in my eyes have dried.

The scared child that cowered in the corner has found light. She has grown since last spoken to. The sex fiend has retreated and allowed a wholeness to take place. I convinced her sex is nothing compared to spiritual ecstasy. A spiritual relationship, with someone who can read my mind and play off my every mood, move and energy, is enticing. I have a few girlfriends like this. I have yet to make a pact with such a guy friend. I have a few in mind, but they don’t seem to understand the concept as i had envisioned they would. Such a collaboration is still open to anyone. Even long distance. I am open and my heart twirls in excitement to find such a guy. If such a person exists. ๐Ÿคจ

As if a light switch was flicked on and off, on and off, the hurt, which once overcame me, has now been overcome. The chaos inside has relented and been subdued.

I win! I won!
I run! I swim!
I fly away…

Telling

Being superstitious comes naturally as hopes are dashed when plans are spoken out loud. But I am hoping this opportunity, that remains open until April 5th, might become a real possibility!!

For the next month I will be putting together my proposal to submit for a writer-in-residence position. That’s all i will tell. I do not want to jinx this opportunity. I don’t feel i have a good chance but i still need to try. I will never know if I do not try.

My proposal is based on writing poetry for young adults who struggle with mental health issues and especially suicidal thoughts. The topic of depression, anxiety, psychosis, along with facing an unknown future, will be the collection of poetry i propose to publish.

I am feeling quite good about this. My ability to relate to these young adults will bring memories flooding back. If i can help just one person i will be happy!

So, if you do not see me around… posting or reading, you will know what i am up to. Knowing myself so well, i wont stay away too long. But i must focus on this project.

The proposal is due April 5 and i will know my fate by June 30. Here goes nothing….

Whatโ€™s Your Favorite? (reblog)

Whatโ€™s Your Favorite
โ€” Read on #WYF Revenge of EveColor. A favorite color.

I increasingly notice shades and hues now that I started dabbling in paint. Even as a photographer, i was not in tune with the varying light and dark of the world, as now. I am at a peak heightened state to my existence and have never felt so alive, or as noticing of each small death, as today.

So what is my favorite color? I have asked a few people that and they choose calming colors, as i once did. At the conception of my son, an orange ball of hope swelled inside and burst onto the scene of the world at his birth. He was close to being born at the back of a NYC taxi cab and made his appearance at the hospital before the doctor arrived. Life has not had to wait for him since… he forges his own paths in all circumstances.

The color orange in life is energizing. So appropriate that my color has changed as i was asleep for so long. I am eternally grateful for the sun and the birth of my son. For the vibrancy and hope they bring to my life.

In all circumstances, Luke has been my rock. When my world trembled in 2008 it was no different. He tirelessly carried me when my legs broke from under the weight of grief.

He is every mom’s hope to have in a son. He is my sunrise and sunset and all that exists in between. He is orange.

He is currently studying for his Ph.D. in Material Science, focusing on batteries at The Ohio State, Columbus, OH. Environmentally conscious, his goal is to develop stable eco-sources of power. He rocks my world and i hope he can bring his dreams to fruition.

And as a mom, what ever girl finds herself in the gleam of his eye, please realize even the stars adore your beauty and grace. ๐ŸŒŽ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒโ˜€๏ธ

Happy Writing, J (i have always wanted to write a fitting tribute and he is so deserving of accolades, being as humble as he is. ๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ•Š๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ)

Focus

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Today I want to give up trying to stay focused. I never know what thoughts will travel through this mind. The path is never straight nor narrow these days. I live in a chaotic existence.

Besides, it seems no use to focus at this stage of the game. Time wise, i am at life’s climax. I hear people say its all down hill from here. But then i remember my deliberate intentions to go after life in 2018. There is a desperate need to walk off the mental weight of grief. Banish the suffocating lost dreams that mock me.

I spent last weekend at Lutheran Hills as a farewell to girlfriends i had met there 14 years earlier. A fall hike was being advertised at church that summer 2004. I picked up the brochure which sparked a burning desire to discover myself. I intuitively knew i needed this necessary journey and was ready to explore.

I packed my weekend bag that October evening and told my husband my plans the following morning. He was stunned but happy for me. He took our three kids for the weekend.

I had never ventured anywhere alone and showed up at Shedron Lodge knowing everyone was a stranger. This was my very first time away from family and i was 37.

At 37, years were passing me and i was lost. I had no handle on any of my emotions, my body or my heart. I was floundering. Drowning. I had a biting urge to change the trajectory of my steps and it was a blur. I was desperate still in suicidal ideation. Death seemed the answer.

This post is hindsight which clarifies the memories. The voices. I left Lutheran Hills this past Sunday feeling determined. Even if i am focused just a moment, that is one moment more to paint.

I have finished quite a bit in the last 6 years. I have my Bachelor’s degree. My children are accomplished adults, thriving and growing into their best selves. I will be moving to Boston this summer and starting the best years of my life. I will walk the 18- mile trek for AFSP in Philadelphia and then hope to hike parts of the Appalachian Trail. As well as work with the people who have not found their voice yet.

—–

The reasons i write are many. I never had words to express it until conversing with Ray. I know what sells. I write (and now paint) to stay sane and that is priceless.

I drag my heart through sand and launch my soul on eagleโ€™s wings for a purpose. To finalize this life and leave this earth finished with no missing pieces. With no regrets.

Happy writing, J๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ•Š๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ

Sick

Sick of this world
and all the opinions
the grey skies
that never go away
no rain is long enough
to wash this blood
men’s feet gone astray

all my love and sorrow
could never heal this pain
sick of this world
and my hopes
to make a difference
no one listening
a dreamer betrayed.

Awakening

hovering blankets of fault
wind swept waves birth
promise awakened

frailty of beauty -come
peer beneath her layers
enchantment greets

Going through the motions

When your heart
lacks love for today
a mere shadow, chasing the sun away
close the curtains
ban the songs
people got in your way.

I remember
a time -certainly
now, not to be high
perhaps it was last night
the outline of a face
traced in the dust, aroused.

You wait for your ship
a turn around
right about face
float until the motion -going
shifts your head.
It’s this tread you dread.

Raped

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well-lived.

word orgies
leave us naked
empty days and nights

your feasting strips humility
scraps of audacity linger-longer

recognize Christ?

Standing outside, admiring Joan Miro’s outdoor sculpture…


Miro’s Chicago

we were invited into The Chicago Temple by a passerby. It was absolutely beautiful inside. Ornate wood and stained glass warmed the interior and our noses.