I haven't counted the days yet....but Christmas is coming!

I love Christmas! It is my favorite time of the year. Granted, Christmas, the real Christmas, has been "commercialized over", you can hardly avoid it for all of the commercialization and I for one believe it's a crime. However, I have to admit, (although I am offended that retail has moved up their campaign every year to capitalze on the all mighty dollar), I love to walk through the stores and revel in the Christmasness that is offered. I begin my own campaign of what to give my loved ones for Christmas.

I don't think that Novemeber 10th is too early to start planning what to give....and here it is, drum roll please...my point for this post....."What to give".....

This is my public service announcement for the season, for you Blogging, writing, photo capturing maestros check out BLURB. You can put a book together of your blogs to give as gifts. At first I wondered if this was sort of 'self important', but, I began sifting through some of my posts and if I pick out a select few that show case my writing, my photography and my love for family and friends it would be a nice gift, right?

Anyhooooo, I downloaded their editing program, it looks super easy and it even has a "blog to book" function that eliminates the guess work. Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree here....has anyone done this before? I stumbled on this concept earlier this year and it's been in the back of my mind ever since to do this with my blog. SSSSOOOOOO, I'm going to do it....wish me luck and let me know any of you have already done this or if you are considering it. I'd be anxious to hear how it worked out for you AND if any of you do have a book already done, I might be inclined to buy one! ('cause y'all are fabulous, really).

The feeling of Christmas is already beginning to permeate....That means my Grandmother's spirit will begin visiting me.....YAY!

Peace
♥

Breaking the block......WARNING: DARK MATTERS

It took just the tiniest bit of prodding, but I think I've figured out what is chasing lady inspiration away. I have things going on in my life that are tough and I find that I am holding back in my writing because I'm not sure I want those things to bleed through....the thing is I need to write about them. So, I'm going to. Heed the warning in the post title, there may be some tough subject matter chewed on here.

I've already divulged here that I am a recovering alcoholic. One of the reasons alcoholism continues in families is that no one talks about it. The disease becomes the elephant in the room and it's affects reverberate for generations. I find that I am standing in the middle of my own life watching the devastation of this disease in my mother, my sister, my nephew, my niece and my brother-in-law. Not only is it affecting their lives, but it overshadows so many aspects of the lives of the people they love and who love them. Breaking down how deeply this disease affects my family would take an encyclopedic sized book.

Alcoholism is insidious. I don't know the people before him, but my mother's father was the first alcoholic I knew in my family. I had only brief encounters with him when he was drunk. I loved my grandfather and loved to hang out with him at the ranch. When my grandparents bought the ranch it was to be their retirement home. My grandmother still had a few years to go before she could retire, so she finished up in So Cal while Papa moved up here and lived at the ranch. Because I loved to hang out with him at the ranch I would ask to go spend weekends with him. I was young, maybe twelve or thirteen, but even then I knew to be aware of how far away the fire station was, in case something happened out at the ranch while I was staying there. I don't know how I knew that Papa had a 'problem' with alcohol, I just knew it. Eventually my grandfather's hard living took it's toll on him and he died relatively young at the age of 67. In retrospect there were so many aspects of the things my mother and her mother did and said that made so much more sense knowing the extent of my grandfather's alcoholism.

What I believe is the crux of my current hurdle is my mother's deeper descent into her alcoholism. Her mother died in the fall of 2007, I've shared my grief here and here and in various other posts, in fact, I spent about eight months in therapy in 2008 processing my grief and various other issues. My mother, however is dealing with her grief a little differently. While I know from my own recovery work a drunk has to decide when they are ready to quit drinking, no one can decide that for them, I find myself dwelling on the well my mother is plummeting into.

I've done a lot of work for myself. I've worked the steps with a sponsor, I've seen a counselor when I felt the need, I've sought spiritual counsel, I've spent a lot of time examining my family dynamics, I know where I come from and where my mother comes from. So, the heart of the matter for me is that I am scared and terrified that my mother isn't going to survive. She is slowly killing herself because she cannot deal with 'where she came from'. It is painfully obvious to many people that my mother is deep in the throws of alcoholism and none of them knows what to do. None of them feel it is their business to intercede. Not even me. I feel impotent to help her, fearing any misstep could make things worse, perhaps alienate her from me, thus putting her in further jeopardy. I have been the care taker in our relationship, from the time I was a small kid, with my own medical problems, I remember that my mom sometimes could not function. Not only did I have to be responsible for her, but for myself. I even cared for her dying mother because she could not bring herself to do it.

What I've covered here is only the toenail of the elephant....my sister functions at a very low level and her young daughter has distanced herself from her mother, positioning herself at her dad's house....her dad an alcohlic himself, raised by a raging alcoholic....who has found out that raising an angry, confused young girl is much harder and scarier than he bargained for. Their dynamic is becoming more complicated and broken every day.

On paper, things don't look so bad, really, families have baggage. I just find myself carrying so much of the baggage....maybe because I don't want to be without my mother at a mere 43 years old and maybe because I don't want the cycle to keep repeating itself in my niece...so, I carry a few of the extra bags so they don't have to.

Then again, perhaps letting go is in the best interest of the bellhop.....putting down the bags and giving up the burden for a minute or two....writing down the tough stuff so lady inspiration can find her way back.

I still don't feel like I've gone deep enough....and that I've dressed up what is going on with a story....Otin thinks maybe I'm really sad and that I could be in a bad place, he extended a kindness I am grateful for, because he helped me look closer, but, I think that this is just my life....I have an acoholic mother, a broken sister, and a struggling teenage niece.....without any sarcasm here, "things could be worse."

Peace
♥

Anybody want to edit my essay? Seriously....?

The assignment: Your topic will be a thing that you could hold in your hands. Your job is to describe the item without naming it. We are to use figurative language, the assignment requires use of; simile, hyperbole and metaphor, at least one of each.

Here is my essay:

Capturing Time

This girl’s sleek, black, steel casing offers cool comfort in my hand, like the grip of a Smith & Wesson revolver. Although, a mere 18 ounces, she offers considerable weight in her class. When her trigger is fired, the click tells you she’s done her job. The result, high output, true color in every shot; as a result, truth on paper.

A field test really showcased my trigger operated friend; I experimented with auto pilot just to get a feel for how she runs. Given her speed, clarity and accuracy, I was not surprised to find out how easy she was to handle. Her split second timing arrested a hummingbird in flight.

Looking at my cool black beauty, you might find yourself inside, waiting to get out. The detail on her screen lets you know what you have accomplished. Found on her frame are a multitude of dials and buttons, designed to compose, create and cultivate emotion with the flick of a finger. Dialing down her attention gives me microscopically precise detail; nothing like seeing the hairs on a bee up close and personal!

My digital image capturing machine reflects back all of the beauty I aim for. With precision execution she gives back breathtaking results, good enough for framing. When put to the test her maximum output can be up to 400 plus reflections of my vision. Whatever the event, she and I work together to hold onto precious moments in time, cataloging life for future reflections.

Carrying her with me, she is always at the ready to fire off a few clicks, gleaning scraps, bits and particles of people, places and things; consequently, our work is a pictorial review of life. At the end of her performance I power her down, cap her off, and put her in a protective bag; saving for another day, event, or coincidental opportunity, her energy. Encapsulating life with the help of ‘Trigger’ is a form of therapy for me, a tool per se, giving me documented proof that I was here and had something to give.

Harumph.......(sigh) (heavier sigh)......

Oh, lady inspiration, where art thou? Today, I am still lost without you. I beseech you, you've been gone too long, please, oh, please return.

I search through images, hoping to spot you amoung the leaves, clouds and sunsets...not even the flowers draw you out....not even the fabulously red ones....those with the flame of desire.

I am but a sad, lost, bewildered soul, hoping for a breath of your scent. Perhaps a wish to the stars will twinkle a message from you to me....or Mr. Moon will draw you down to my heart.

Should I play coy and hide from YOU? Will that pull you back to me? Such games to be played all for the sake of some words.....ah, but, the words they are addictive...painfully so. I am partial to great expanses of them, I suppose I could be satisfied with just a few for now and later, days, maybe, I'll come back and you will have returned....and will be waiting here for me, arms out stretched, beseeching ME to return to you.....

Oh, I do beg you to return, however, I will wait for as long as I have to......



Peace
♥

Oh, Inspiration, where are you?

I've been dreaming of inspiration. Just dreaming. She alludes me. Drifting in and out of my subconscious. Taunting me with her whispers. I reach for her, she pulls away and laughs her sneering, demented laugh. I call out and only hear my own echo.

As I dream, ideas drift in and out. Ghosts haunt my dreams, moaning their epitaphs, hints of a story I should tell. Inspiration still only a mist in the darkness. The fog is dense, yet I trundle through it, searching, culling, yearning for a clear view of an idea. Waiting for the arrival of her highness, to bestow upon me a whim that might cause but just one person a giggle. me, the recipient, anxious for that one guffaw.

Churning over words, prose, phrases, sentences, hoping for the connect, when words collide and make sense...or not. The lady inspiration dances in the distance, floating as if on air, glancing back, summoning me with her stare. I skip after her, stumble, fall, scrape my knee, get up, desperate to reach her....only to miss her by a heartbeat....

Oh, Inspiration, where are you? Why do you allude me? If only I could capture you and bottle you up for the days when I need you.

Peace

♥

Wordless Wednesday

Beautiful little towns in the California Sierra Nevada: Nevada City, Grass Valley and Colfax.....Enjoy! Happy Autumn!

Cheating on myself....the realization

A few nights back I dreamed a poem. In my dream I was composing this poem and it was beautiful. In the dream I posted the poem on my blog and it was beautiful. I distinctly remember waking up wondering about the poem, however, there was no evidence of it's existence.

I like to write. Let's say I love to write. It's likely I'll never be of the caliber of Hemmingway, Tolstoy, Austen, Poe, Plath, Brian, Otin, Willow, etc., but, still, some of my writing will touch a few people. The dream about the poem prompted lots of thoughts about my writing and my writing caliber. I'm having fun in my English class at school and am looking forward to honing my technical skills as a result of the class. But,(can we use 'but' at the beginning of a sentence?)I have been wondering if I will ever really be any good as a 'Writer'.

Over the last couple of weeks I've been really examining my writing and the content of my blog and thinking back to when I first started the blog. I was going to write only for me and if anyone else read it, well then, that would be gravy....but, I've fallen into a hole and I've allowed myself to get away from that, because I started to care about followers and comments from followers. I've read similar ponderings on various other blogs and those posts contributed to my thinking.

My earliest posts are really some of my best because I was only writing for myself and had no audience but me(is that the correct pronoun?). No one who I felt was judging my content, no one who might pat me on the back and validate me. I was validated by merely putting my thoughts, my prose, out into the ether. I miss that and am wondering if I am capable of going back. I'm wondering if maybe I've shared my blog with too many people and have short changed myself in the process.

I've become addicted to follower comments and the feeling of satisfaction I get from knowing someone read my blog. AND, they thought enough of the post to comment. And, sometimes when I don't get alot of comments I worry about losing followers. I've begun to understand how Brittney Spears and Jessica Simpson might have felt when they weren't getting their 90 minutes of fame everyday. I have begun to feel a little shamed by these feelings and I know it has affected my writing. ALOT.

One of the first times Julochka commented on my blog was about writing and what we put into our blog posts and our writing practice. I had it in my head that I would stick to a certain writing regimen and if I didn't stick with it I found that I would beat myself up for falling away. I've been doing that to myself a little bit lately. And, although writing and blogging are for my pleasure, I feel like the audience has taken the pleasure out of it for me. It's like going to a family party and not taking my camera....I always get harrassed about that, "Where's your camera?" "Who's going to take the pictures?" The harrassment takes the pleasure out of the shooting. Much like the interal pressure I apply to myself about my blog content and responses or lack of responses from followers.....catering to any one besides myself has taken the fun out of it.

I'm not saying I don't love that people are reading and commenting....I love you all and am grateful for your input, participation and, well, validation of my existence, because, as lots of bloggy people say, if I don't exist in the blogoshpere, then I must not exist. I'm just taking a personal inventory of my motives and drives regarding my blog writing and trying to find my way back to a place where I can write with abandon and respect myself in the morning.

I actually took a post down the other day....I am ashamed to say, because I thought it might offend some people who MIGHT have been reading my blog. First I 'edited' it, but, could not get the post 'cleaned' up enough for my "maybe" audience, so, I deleted it. For the next couple of days I felt dishonest and seriously, like I had cheated on someone....then, I realized, I had cheated on myself. Not like I haven't done that before, but, I was drinking back then......

I want my writing to be real. I want to be brave enough to write real, EVERY time I write. And, to not second guess my writing once I've put it out there. But, I also want to write something worth reading, something interesting, entertaining, deep, inspiring, something that begets comments....only I don't want to care about whether or not I get the comments.....I'm tired of putting up posts with just a picture or two and writing some weak 'captions' and call that writing. I've been avoiding posting for this very reason. I'm trying to figure out how to get back to 'the old days'.

Anyway.....that's where I am tonight......I'm the Old Man and the Sea, just trying to find my way back to port with my catch......

Peace
♥

booowahahhhahhhhaaaaaa ! (update)

Happy Halloween

From my House

to Yours!

Peace

♥

booowahahhhahhhhaaaaaa !

Happy Halloween

from my house

to yours!

Peace
♥

Pink Thursday........

Hold your head high

Don't ever let 'em define the light in your eyes

Love yourself, give them Hell

You can take on this world.

You just stand and be strong

And then fight

Like a girl.

Oh, with style and grace

Kick ass and take names

Fight Like a Girl

Fight Like a Girl

Thank you Christina at Soul Aperture for your inspiration.

Peace

♥

Wordless Wednesday

♥

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love." Mother Theresa

(The leaf in this photo looks eerily like a real heart......metaphorically speaking).

Many years ago an old friend of mine and I were having a discussion about something I wanted, I don't even remember what it was I wanted, probably a new camera or something dumb like that, but, my friend told me that I would get it. I asked her how she knew that and she looked me straight in the eye and said, "You always get what you want, you always have." She wasn't being cheeky or jealous she was just telling me what she knew about me......God Bless her....she knew me well and although I do not ALWAYS get what I want, I very nearly get most everything I want.

Part of the journey I have been documenting here has been the journey to self actualization, finding out who I am and taking responsibility for my life and being the best human I can be. I believe I discovered that to be the best human I can be I need to go to school and get involved in the arena I can do the most good and give from where I live.....my heart. I want this, therefore, I intend to have it.

When I had my last open heart surgery in 2005 I was introduced to another middle aged survivor of congenital heart defect, Until this time I had been alone in my heart journey. Our bond was immediate and I am profoundly grateful for our friendship. Because of this friendship and deep connection a part of me was able to heal a part that had never been acknowledged before, the trauma. Open heart surgery at any age is a trauma, not to mention, physically challenging. The most gruelling part of it isn't the actual physical recovery, but, the mental and emotional gauntlet you run trying to psych yourself into believing that you're going to make it to the other side, in tact. So, having someone to connect with that has an innate understanding of that is pretty special. My friend, "K" and I discovered so many similarities in our lives, not just related to our medical files, but our family lives, too. At this discovery we started talking about ways we could help families and their children, both the patient and their siblings, deal with the trauma, emotional and physical, they might experience. We tossed out some ideas about how we might go about doing this and toyed with the idea of writing a children's book on open heart surgery. We both agreed what a good idea this would be and then promptly went on about our lives and shelved the idea of the book. Every time we talked after our initial brainstorming session we'd jokingly mention the book, but, we both have our lives that keep us pretty busy, so, it was just an idea we kept kicking around, We have good intentions, but, again, life sometimes take precedence over, well, other aspirations.

Until this weekend......I met a writer, who's sister is an illustrator and they've always wanted to write a children's book together! The writer happens to be a dear friend of K's and we met at K's family event this weekend. One thing led to another and we shared how we knew K and her family and how K and I had talked about writing a children's book about our heart stuff.

So, all of that leads to my inspiration tonight....when I am suffering from blogger's block I shuffle through my quote collection or my photo file and wait for inspiration to strike and either a quote or a photo will call me out, but, sometimes just the search is enough to get my mind churning and a little spark will ignite and things will start to spin.....

And, it happened. I got to thinking about how we end up where we need to be at just the right moment. You know what I mean, right? You happen to be at a party, with people you know, celebrating some milestone or maybe not even anything special, just a get together and there in the crowd is someone who you are supposed to meet. Or, you happen to share the same cardiovascular surgeon who has a nurse who actually listens to her patients and takes it upon herself to connect two people who really need each other. Or, you connect with someone through a blog who happens to connect with you on so many levels you just know you'll be friends for life. You know what I mean? And I began to ponder these blessings, these divine interventions and how your life can be changed in a split second by these fortuitous meetings.

If we get the book written my life will be forever changed and I will once again, get what I want, a chance to help someone. And, all of the seemingly simple meetings of the right people at the right time will have laid the ground work for something quite miraculous.....

This is what I've been chewing on tonight.....what about you?

Peace
♥

Oh, the memories.......

Oh, for the first blush of romance....young love....not that old people stuff....YOUNG LOVE, the REALLY young love.....high school love.....the most painful love ever......the kind where you can't breathe it hurts so much.

I had the pleasure of accompanying my niece to her boyfriend's freshman high school football game this evening, for the men in the audience, they lost.....now, to the bigger issue....Young, 'Prince' Landon, my niece's first hard core, real boyfriend. I call him Prince Landon, because, well, he is a prince. I have to say I really like him. And, so does my niece, A LOT. They LOVE each other, A LOT.

While photographing the game, watching Prince Landon, running on and off the field, watching Kaylee watch him run on and off the field, a flood of memories came over me. It was like one of those moments described in the movies, in fact, it was like a little mini movie running through my head and I had flashes of my high school days. Ironically, the school colors of Landon's team are the same that mine were, black and orange, and this helped the little movie in my head pull out even more memories. What settled in my heart and mind was the intensity of the emotions I felt and my friends felt. Everything back then was soooooo intense and, well, painful.

As I watched and listened tonight, to the young lady that Kaylee has become, I had an acute shot of angsty pain run through me...I remembered how MUCH I ached for my boyfriend and how everytime he did something sweet or cute or charming, I just swooned. Kaylee swoons for Landon, too.

You can see it in her face. The boys are instructed to not look around for people in the crowd, to pay attention to the game, but, Landon could not help himself and he tried to disquise his search for Kaylee, but, he was not very sly and their eyes connected and I managed to capture her response to that connection.....can't you see it? It's not the glow of the sun on her, but, the young love radiating from her face that brightens the stadium.

I started this post on thursday night after the game, blogger took a dive and I was not able to finish it.....some of the glow of the evning has worn off for me now, saturday night, I wish that I had been able to finish the post, while the feelings were fresh. I was awash in the beauty of their sweetness......reminiscent of those days when every breath hung on what one's sweetheart would do or say.....when you just knew you would die without them.....when you wrote bad poetry, listened to painful love ballads over and over and over again, just wallowing in the torture, pining for the next time you could be together.......

Do you remember?

Peace
♥

"What Cancer cannot do"

What Cancer Cannot Do

Cancer is so limited...

It cannot cripple love
It cannot shatter hope
It cannot corrode faith
It cannot destroy peace
It cannot kill friendship
It cannot suppress memories
It cannot silence courage
It cannot invade the soul
It cannot steal eternal life
It cannot conquer the spirit.

(author unkown)

For Candace

Peace

♥

Thank you, Christina at Soul Aperture for your inspiration!

Wishcasting Wednesday....Saying YES

"What do you wish to say YES to?"

I wish to say YES to the infinite possibilities that lie before me.

I wish to say YES to faith in the direction I've chosen to take my life.

I wish to say YES to being open to every opportunity that comes my way.

I wish for everyone else as they wish for themselves......

(visualizing my cupped hands throwing my wish out into the ether.....scattering my cares about it to the winds, watching as the particals of my wish ascend to the higher plane, releasing the energy of the wish that I might receive it back in completion).

Peace
♥