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The Waters Deep

Swim to the top. Dance on the waves!

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Love

The story’s we tell

SnowThe story’s I tell myself are rarely the whole truth.   They come in strong, they feel real, but can change directions, like the winds at the edge of the ocean.

I believe the absolute truth of them until something shifts internally and I drift into another thought or belief pattern that has been there, waiting for me to see.  

Don’t set my words, thoughts and beliefs in concrete, because as I learn, grow & dream, they will change.

Today’s words don’t have to be the eternal truth.  They are just part of my story that I bring back from my Dreams.  The words are just bits and pieces of Now but not Everything.

In one story my parents are dead.  They are gone and can’t be touched ever again.  Ashes to Ashes.

Then in another story, the one where I close my eyes and drift into the unknown place, they are there laughing and telling me that everything is perfect and I’ll be all right.  They are fine.  I am fine.  I can touch my Mom in that story.  Feel her soft cheek against mine.  I can hear her say, “Oh honey” with so much love that I bring real tears, from that story, into the other.  I bring the Love too.  It’s not a word it’s a feeling.

Does a time and a place exist where this story is real?  Yes.  I just don’t have a label big enough for it.

The bad story’s.  They are fading farther and farther away.  I no longer want to tell them, to myself or to anyone else.  They no longer feel like they are a part of me.  I have let them go.  I have changed the script.  Because I can.

The Dreams are real.  Everything else is unpredictable & ever changing.

 

Let Go said the Tree and the leaves fell

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Everything changes.   Every single thing on this earth changes every second.  Sometimes the changes are so subtle you don’t even notice them.  Other times they make themselves known like the color of the leaves when Fall comes.  So obvious that you’d be a fool to pretend you couldn’t see them.

The season of Death floats in and out and through all other seasons.  It brings with it the greatest of changes, so close and in front of you that it’s blinding and all you can see or think about.  Everything else gets filtered through that lens of pain and loss.

Every leaf that falls, thunders in your ear.  Every raindrop drowns.  The sun feels scorching on your face.  Banana’s taste like chalk.  Tears water the planet.

This season of Death has been long and has left holes where they once were.  Energetic voids.

There wasn’t enough time.  There is never enough time.  The seasons change so quickly.

 

Chopping up the past

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What do I want to do? I mean really do?

It’s a weird thing to wake up at 50 and realize you finally have the time and resources to ask yourself that question.  The clarity to see that it’s not selfish to do so.

The excitement to discover that you love yourself enough.

What makes me happy?  Fulfills me?  Serves me?  What are my passions and life goals?

Am I living a true and authentic life while doing the best I can to love and help others?

Learning from the patterns of generations that came before me.  Recognizing and being willing to talk about them out loud.

I come from a long line of women who didn’t love themselves enough.  Who didn’t allow other people to love them.  They chose hard lives and hard living which resulted in a lot of bad relationships, of all kinds.

Generations of family who struggled knowing how to be family because of the inability to be self reflective without judgement, to love and be loved without fear.  To trust each other.

I’m gifting myself and my children and grandchildren a new heritage.   I want to be open to everything this life has to offer.

What do I want to do.  Love.  I want to do Love.

 

 

 

 

 

Hope

Serene and beautiful places make me grateful to be alive. 

My wish is that every person on this planet should experience moments such as these.  

Filled with Peace and Love and the very greatness that our Earth has to offer. 

I am thankful for another day and yet filled with heartbreaking sorrow for those that have needlessly lost that.  

Hoping that, through tragedy, the world will find a common ground and a connection of Love. 

Today. Tomorrow. Be kind. Find peace.  Remain Hopeful. 

The Fear of Loss

No matter what happens around me, or to me, as long as I am alive enough to see the sun and the moon rising I can still grow and love and life is amazing regardless of Loss.


This week I stood, once again, over a hospital bed watching my Mom recover from an over indulgence of Doctor Prescribed Medication and Budweiser.  Her face a puffy caricature of the  beautiful high cheek-boned person I knew.   Once perfect lips, dry and cracked and almost undetectable except for the tongue that keeps darting out as she tries to form what I can only guess are words, a hopelessly failed attempt to convince the doctor she has Food Poisoning.  Her eyes yellowed and blood shot, an obvious cry of help from a Liver that seems almost ready to take a permanent vacation from a body that has become way too much work to maintain.  Nicotine stained fingers tinged with a hint of blue, her lungs are not awake enough to take in air but not dead enough to completely stop.

I just want to go home.

I stand there looking at My Dad, who is studying the lines on the floor as if they are going to give him the secret answer to the Universe and think, “You watch her sober up or die.  Not me.  You are the one lying to the doctors.  You know the Truth.  Why will you not share it?”  He catches me staring and I see Fear.  It has rendered him speechless.  I want to slap him.

So I walk to the nurses station and tell them her real story.  The truth that she has been struggling with prescription drug addiction for 15+ years.

Plenty of Fluids later and she has recovered miraculously from ‘Food Poisoning’.  They are going to walk her and then she will be released.  It’s no longer an emergency.  This time I don’t beg the doctor to send her to rehab.  I’m not angry.  I’m not really anything except tired.

The next day we have our ‘day after’ talk where I tell her she’s going to die and ask if that’s the Legacy she wishes to leave behind.  I remind her that her mother died from a cocktail of alcohol and pills.  She cries.  She tells me she’s sorry and it won’t happen again.

It’s the same as always. The only difference this time is that I have let go of the Fear of losing her.  I have let go of the responsibility to try to make her sober.  I have let go.

I hug her like it might be the last time I ever see her, because it might.  I look into her hungover eyes and will her to understand that she is loved.

I walk away without any Fear of Loss and I walk back to my life where the birds are chirping, bees are buzzing, my dog is farting, my kids are calling and my husband is hammering on something in the kitchen.

No loss, except my own life, will kill me.  There is Freedom in that Truth.

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