Monday, May 25, 2009

Momma's Magical Green Ring

His name was Bill, but since we are in the south we can call him 'Beeeeyawl.'
He was a buyer and a stranger and I brought him into my home.
He walked from room to room, opening cupboards, boxes, cabinets and drawers... pulling out things he wanted to take.
He found a box of antique and vintage costume jewelry...none of which I had even worn.
I plucked one ring out...'I gotta keep this one. It's magical. And it's from my Momma.'
Swooping in onto my pointer finger, I held my hand out to view.
Beeeyawl looked at me, then the ring, gathering all the others...'What makes it magical?'
'Well, just look at it! It's seaweed green, sunlight in the forest green! In fact, the only thing that keeps me from being a mermaid walking the earth or a woodland fairie trapped for the moment in suburbia is... your imagination.'
'That is the craziest thing I have ever heard.'
'Then either you haven't heard enough or you are not a very good listener. Yeah, you will have to stick around longer.'

I wore the twisted, knotted and broken green ring for the rest of the day.
... a hopeless believer...

Friday, May 22, 2009

Walking, Wading and Resting...In Peace

I'm dirty.

Dirt, dust, clay, mud, soot, scum, sweat, debris, paint chips, smoke, splinters and surely some poisonous stuff and maybe some itsy-bitsy, tiny spiders too.


And as soon as the last load of wash finishes, I'll hop into this old house's clawfoot for a cool, refreshing shower....
throw on some old soft cotton threads, kill all the lights and melt into the hammock out back...

simply enjoy knowing that sometimes walking through peace means running, lifting, heaving, chopping, scraping, climbing, squatting, mixing, digging, scraping and yes, eventually resting...if even just for a moment

everything comes full circle...
may evening peace becomes morning peace.

'Walking Through Peace' Hippie Art by Sister Singleton

Sunday, May 17, 2009

So there he was…paranoid yet prepared.
Helmet on.
Big toes, escorted by little piggies, on black plastic teeth.
Excitement met anxiety in his eyes...unsure of his situation
The training wheels had just been popped off.
One steadfast and supportive hand held the back of his seat.
Okay Now! Pedal!’
No-wa-oh! I’m afraid.’
‘It’s okay, I have the back of your seat. You won’t fall.’
‘Only...but if.... if I my bike starts going…fast?’
I will be running right beside you. See my hand. I’m right here.’
And so he began to push…
Feeling Free
The hand fell away and he didn’t realize he had been let go.
He pushed on, in his new found freedom, pushing himself right up the hill.
In a momentary glance, he realized he was alone.
He veered.
No one was holding onto the back of the seat.
He wobbled.
No one was running beside him.
He began to cry out that he couldn’t do it.
The sense of betrayal could be heard in his voice...
Words replacing the hand that had once been at his backside
‘But you are doing it! Keep pedaling son! Keep pushing!’
And so he did.

Sometimes in life we all need a hand, if not to push us, to remind us that we are not really alone.
And sometimes in life we just need to think, feel, believe that someone has got our back in order to learn that we can do it all on our own…

Friday, May 15, 2009

'Can we do this?'
'Hahaha, we are. So it would seem to me that YeS! Yes, we can!'
'I mean are we supposed to?'
'We aren't breaking any laws, legal or cardinal, that I know of.'
'Well, I've just never...'
'Hahaha, well you won't be able to say that for long, now will you?'
'I feel bad. I feel guilty.'
'Silly. I think you feel fear and there is nothing to be afraid of. Go forth and make the most of your moments. This is life, okay?'
'This is life...'

Sick days.

Doctors can diagnose torn ligaments, but not torn emotions. They can treat heartburn, but not heartaches. They can set a broken arm, but not your future. They can diagnose a cold, but not spring fever....

Take time, as needed, just don't take it for granted.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Soaring between Heaven and Earth

I stepped out onto the curb and looked up.
The sky was a hazy blue and the sun was tearing through any faint clouds that paraded between she and I.
I saw him coming from off in the distance.
Strong. Steady.
He came right towards me, took a sudden dip, did one large circle and sailed on...
I watched in awe, as it's been a while, I think since last June since I have seen a hawk swoop down over me.
His wings seemed as wide as I am tall.

"I just know this means something"

According to Native American cultures, the Hawk represents messages. Hawks have the ability to move between the seen and the unseen, the physical and the spiritual, the past and the future... they are excellent at catching the bigger picture.
They represent unification with the Great Spirit and a time for one to re-evaluate and re-align their spiritual goal and their physical behaviors.

I think that Hawk was a messenger moving between the seen and unseen, the physical and the spiritual, the past and the future.
I think he was sent to me, in hopes, wants and wishes that I would pick up on his message...

John knew what I know, but now he has gone away
but he's not gone far...the Heavens are closer than we know.
I think he called upon his Nana and mine, Courtney & Crunch and any other beings he could to send that Hawk to that I could work with him, on this end.

This moment is what holds our yesterday and tomorrow together...let us enjoy it.
Heaven and Earth are right here, right now coexisting and living together in more peace than most of the people on this planet. May our spirits and our bodies coexist in peace and love, as the Heavens do with the Earth...right here, right now.
Energy never dissipates, it merely changes form.
Just because one doesn't see it, does not mean it does not exist... may we all open our eyes a little bit more.

Life is for living...learning...loving.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

'Do you have children?'
'No Ma'am.'
Smiles, 'Oh, well I was going to, uh, wish you a Happy Mothers Day.'
Smile reflected back,'You still can. I have a Mother who's wonderful.'

Mother. Mom. Momma.
Sometimes I call her Mommasita or MotherLove.
I hear one of my older sisters call her Mommy.

Before I began school, I sat at the kitchen table with my best friend and her mother.
My friend called her mother by her proper name and I froze, confused.
'What did you just call your mom?'
'That is her name'
'She is you Mom.'
'Yeah, but she has a name too.'

Later, I stomped into the kitchen and confronted my own mother.
'Who are you?'
Setting her potato and paring knife down ...'What?'
'I said, who are you?'
Rinsing her hands and looking over her shoulder at me, 'Well, I am your Mother for one thing. What is going on?'
'I know you are my mom. I want to know who you are to everyone else!'

Ah, since then I have learned that my Mother is more than she or I will ever know, more than any name or word could ever communicate. If I grow to be a fraction of what she is, I will be a very content woman.

Happy Mothers Day to my own Mother, to you, to your Mothers and to all the Mothers in the world.

Friday, May 01, 2009


Sometimes, we may need help seeing things

Rose-tinted glasses can work rather nicely
peaceful and pretty, no matter which path lays before you