Kids and Guns Episode 2018

As I drove back from my hometown that day, starbucks in hand, bravely bringing a friend tylenol that had a bad day- i never thought once that, i’d be turning on the tv to see these images just days later.

A thirteen year old child, 2 hand guns, one brave science teacher- and though the trauma, it- clings, a hero has been born in a sense. That kind of unpredictable moment that one story has begun and another is over. You just never can be sure- that it’s not going to be your school, your home, your kid, your day spent waiting for hours for the results of a giant life test. not the kind that requires scantrons and do they even do that anymore? the little holes you have to learn to perfect filling in, if you truly believe in education in the 90’s.

But today? those little pieces of paper that remind us too- education is not the same.

I drove home at 2am, and I never thought I’d end up seeing the place I grew up all over every channel of every station of the news. every radio broadcast. every mile I drove to and from my modest job, in my modest car, in my limited life- I am suddenly just a little more grateful for, than the day before.

The world has just become, a different place today.

But in the sudden trauma too, there is a beauty. Everyone is just a little bit kinder, just a little less difficult, Just a little more understanding of each other. Just a little more listening, and a little less talking. Just a little more gratitude, and little less complaining, everywhere you look.

It is the great pause- the breath of a community held in momentary silence. The sigh of relief of every parent for a hundred miles.

A teacher just came out of surgery taking three bullets, and a hundred kids, just lived.

Has no one thought to thank the universe yet?

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Music and Drugs

I’ve not often talked about this- but it’s a fair topic.

I never realized how much I could learn from playing a djembe, or picking up a flute, or singing fireside just appreciating the vibe. So many amazing people that have influenced my life started on a spark of a log, hands stretched and heart open, embracing the stars, and learning a new rhythm.

The one thing I can’t stand about hand drummers, besides the superficial contribution of a bunch of could be’s paying thousands of dollars for drums? is the drugs. It actually really deeply bothers me, that every invitation I get, I have to strongly evaluate before accepting. I have check every list of RSVP’s, I have ensure that I take nothing on me that could be potentially stolen, or that could be viewed as valueable. I have to go through the list of every person that is most likely to attend- and never the less?

there’s always one, incognito, drug dealer. selling pain meds to a pot head. dosing people and not people that actually do enjoy these ‘higher end drugs’.

I haven’t been to a larger drum circle for literally years- because the risk is too high. There are too many people that try to get too close to me. There are too many people out there, that aren’t ‘just smoking pot’ or appear to be safely smoking pot, and are just big liars sort of perched on the edge of a mission: drums for drugs.

Don’t get me wrong, I realize the value of music.

But does it have to cost so many people thier lives? Quality of experience? And?

when did it become normal to dose people? knowing they aren’t open to it.

It makes me feel like my talent, my ability, my contribution is just not really worthwhile-given to all the wrong  people.

all for a beat. or 2.

Mothering

I have to admit that most days, I still feel like I am going to die-atleast a couple of times a week, I just feel like I could pass out for no particular reason at all. I double over in pain, unsure if I’ll ever make out of this maze of doctoring. But underneath all of the pain, I am still a mother in my  own way. My ovaries, they speak- in subtle undertones of waiting until I am thirty, tired, and torn- to consider having kids.

 

I’ve helped raise so many children that are not my own and now? They are all grown. Yet, on mothers day I rarely even imagine honoring myself. But I do think about my ovaries a lot- or they think for me sometimes. Honoring the femenine doesn’t always come from space of a modern family. A lot of dads are mom’s these days too.

Secretly I hope that someday- I’ll have a man that loves to stay home and take care of the kids, so that I can finally- just have a great career. Or atleast a man that enjoys actually being in his kids lives- that isn’t just committed to me forever- but is also deeply committed to his children.

Something I never really had- my biological father there, everyday come hell or high water. The great reason i have not had children yet myself- a deep and good reason to step back and let life present oppourtunities as they come. Instead of putting all my literal ovarian eggs in one basket hoping that someone is going to finally stay?

Eventually. Someday. Right?

But sadly most of the men I have dated- they don’t, they can’t. Or they just plain feel like they are going to get thier wings clipped by the relationship itself.

But here is the thing about that.

Females- they need thier freedom too. They need thier freedom and thier space, and thier girlhood- and thier right to run wild sometimes too. It’s not just men that deserve FREEDOM,  that deserve and need space of thier own.

Not ever girl wants a career. Not every girl truly needs children. Not every girl is made- to bear a man’s children and then be left in the dust, hoping for a better answer.

I am not made to be used up, raising other people’s children- giving my compassion to those that have no sense of caring anymore. Begging others to love in compassion, is not my style, or need. Begging others to care about thier children personally- is not my job. Pleading with the great universe for a man to come home and take care of his kids, is not the path I need to make ME a better person.

It certainly doesn’t make me a happier person, it doesn’t make anybody happier or better.

But some of us in life, each are just a mother to everyone that we run into. Putting our arm around the whole world, we can’t escape the nature of the need for nurturing.

But I have to admit, I feel used up myself- too often, for all the worst things.

Time, Money, Career, but usually eventually for my mothering instinct, ability- to just do the thing, that most people don’t or can’t or refuse to do..

calm the heart of the child. bring them the safety they need to be true to the person they are, and be all of themselves- no regrets.

But do I get my own?

Nope Nope- because everyone is too scared to make a plan, and actually follow through.

Then others they’d have to step up, and admit, these patterns are abusive.

Late Comebacks

What I meant to say was-

how dare you try to take my men?

 

They are all fuckaholics, alcoholics, half-wits,

and they aren’t very good at cheating either.

But they do it, a lot.

 

Well, I suppose if you insist- you can have one.

But I’m warning you-

take off your shoes and get ready-

to stand in the kitchen. never having children.

don’t worry he loves bologna, with American cheese.

and when he farts under the covers at 2am-you’ll understand.

 

Would you like the one that tried to kill me and himself,

or the one that tried to drown himself in rum?

there is quite a selection here you realize.

They are all well aged, and vintage.

We have Sweet, and sour-

dark and mysterious,

or for the adventurous-

confused. pickled, and loves fetishes.

 

Ode to the jealous, narcissistic woman-

who can’t help but want what you have,

a life that looks better than theirs,

though a life of thier own would help.

 

I can’t be sure, but based on these rules

which I did not invent-

If I start dating myself,

she may become a lesbian.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twisted

I can still feel it-

the pang, sometimes takes me back.

The way it was just so effortlessly persuaded.

The way nobody questioned it, not one single person.

Well not to my face. at least. or theirs.

 

How can someone with so much goodness,

tear another’s life apart so seamlessly?

That’s real jealousy.

 

Like a hissy fit, once thrown in a store

over the things, parents have to say-

like the big N-O.

Little girls do not grow up to be dolls,

little girls do not grow up to become their own barbies,

girls do not become women, not quite yet-

until they’ve faced their own jealousy, their own darkness-

the self-righteousness of the soul, the ego, the id.

 

Jealousy is only the natural reaction to the word NO,

you can’t have it,

it’s not yours,

we can’t bend every rule-

not for your whole life dear.

 

Jealousy is the mask, of the girl, who always has a new doll.

The girl who never had to accept no,

and now cannot overcome no either.

It is deep down, the fear-

the slow building of resentment,

the quick growing panic-

the world will not bend to her will anymore.

 

 

 

Healing the Chalice (photo blog)

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Shifting of the tides- the well over flows. This is the new faucet after 50 years of changes- not quite the old pipe sticking out of the ground that it once was. Still beautiful.

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Amazingly clear waters from the adjacent water table. 🙂

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A magical journey to healing the waters- is marked by the beauty of the sun reflecting. No changes were made to these photos- at all- and I took them on my phone. Pretty awesome reflections today, quite literally dazzling!

 

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This I imagine is where all the water undines probably are hiding, it is thier magical portal to the artesian well- not far below these stones. 🙂 Again, without any edits made to the photo-I just got lucky today!

 

 

Hungry

For plants and warm mornings…

for spirit and friendship…

For coffee in bed…

for mushrooms just because but maybe don’t eat those…

For waffles, usually home made…the poor way is much cooler…

and for love….

And chocolate always. ❤ 😉


Drowning in Love

“She has the key to save him and change their situation. Regardless of how they got in this predicament, she STILL holds the key. Now she could give him the key and “set him free” but she doesn’t trust him. She thinks if he could get away by any means he would and leave her . . . . to die! But he wants to save her regardless of their situation. He will stretch himself far and thin in order to save her to have her to hold her. However he’s powerless to change anything his circumstance only but allows so much and unfortunately it will never be enough. Not enough to make her trust him and not enough to reach her. He’d break his own chains if he could but he simply can’t. And even though she’s the one dying, she has the most power. She could save them both but she would die before she trust him. And he’ll eventually die without the key.” -RJ

 

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