Monday, July 4, 2011
Living in the Moment....
Something in my house dying! Eeeeew! Will the cats never stop dragging dead things in here? Still warm, and bloody, bits of Rabbit; Voles, Rats, mice (which I like almost as much as I like bunnies... they are so cute), and birds parts (feathers, feet, beaks) are stashed in impossible to find places. Left to rot and stink....Sometimes the odd garter snake, but mercifully, Basil rarely kills them. Just bats them about and makes a fuss so I will notice what a fearless and masterful hunter he is! O.M.G! I noticed, I noticed!!! Stop already! I take the snakes, which I like very much, outside to the garden, reproaching them for being complacent in a yard with nasty cats, and reminding them to be more careful, and thanking them for catching bad bugs, like spiders that bite. I tell Baz sternly, "Dont hurt Mama's snakey snakes!!!" He looks at me briefly, with utter boredom, and demands his supper... As a result of his stashed murder-death-kills, I have flies. Big, stupid, slow-buzzing death-flies everywhere. IN MY HOUSE! Disgusting. Gods help me, my house is a morgue! Some mornings I get up and am jolted rudely awake (before coffee!!!) by a strategically placed gall bladder squishing nastily between my bare toes. Baz, the Super-hero serial varmint murderer leaving his signature calling card. I should write a comic strip about him. He is a scary uber-predator. Totally upsets my Buddhist leanings, and puts me off meditating in the morning because I am completely overcome by guilt-by-association. How can I meditate and become one with Spirit when I am harboring a murder-death-kill machine? (Seriously, tell me... comments and advice welcomed! I am trying to be heroically Zen about it... but am failing fantastically). Meanwhile, at this moment, Baz is relaxing on the railing of the back deck, catching the last rays of evening sunlight, in resplendent cat Nirvana. He is content. Smug, even. He does his job well and knows it. He is handsome and charming, and sexy, and knows that too. A tall, red-headed muscle-bound warrior. He keeps house and hearth clean of vermin, and with great magnanimity (being a generous kind of Soul, and a good family provider) offers the beloved two legged an entire, intact morsel of the day's catch... like the wee vole I found before the front door when I came home this evening. He means well....I am an artist too, but sometimes I dont get his installations, hieroglyphics, cryptic-concept-art comments right away (slow Human). He's a Cat, ergo, a genius, and in his own stratosphere of communication. I have to work to keep up with him. So it takes me a bit of time to work out his code.... Finally, with great relief, I realize now that the icky Gall bladders are clearly meant for the dogs.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A Good Moment.... and a Good Thing....
Session with Shrink was very good. Suddenly, I found myself talking to a highly intelligent person. A VERY SMART PERSON. Hugely compassionate. And asking all the right questions, not all of which made me feel good. Which is ok. Uncomfortable, at times, but good, and okay. Real. It has been a long time since I had a conversation with someone who has insight and a desire to bring that awareness to light. Gently. Kindly. But with focus too. No wishy-washing.
Keenly aware; very on point. A good listener; he asked good questions about what I said, and made me THINK. I liked that. He had read my file and referred to it quite a lot which impressed me, because it was clear that he had spent time absorbing my information and he'd thought about it... and he knew his stuff! It was a very surprising thing to sit with someone and have feedback that reflected true understanding. He gets it.
It was good. Very good. Even though I cried a bit. I still have so many tears. And will have, for a long time to come. He was matter of fact about it all, while simultaneously being being genuinely empathetic. A rare combination. And I was reminded of a thing which I had forgotten: I have a brain. A good one. And I am not stupid. That was a nice thing to relearn. It was really good to be asked to THINK. And to be reminded that I am, in fact, intelligent.
Meanwhile... Puppy-lust continues. My new shrink did not make 'dont do it' noises. This surprised me.
I am not sure what to make of that...
The main thing is that I am actually feeling more stable. And that is a very good thing.
Keenly aware; very on point. A good listener; he asked good questions about what I said, and made me THINK. I liked that. He had read my file and referred to it quite a lot which impressed me, because it was clear that he had spent time absorbing my information and he'd thought about it... and he knew his stuff! It was a very surprising thing to sit with someone and have feedback that reflected true understanding. He gets it.
It was good. Very good. Even though I cried a bit. I still have so many tears. And will have, for a long time to come. He was matter of fact about it all, while simultaneously being being genuinely empathetic. A rare combination. And I was reminded of a thing which I had forgotten: I have a brain. A good one. And I am not stupid. That was a nice thing to relearn. It was really good to be asked to THINK. And to be reminded that I am, in fact, intelligent.
Meanwhile... Puppy-lust continues. My new shrink did not make 'dont do it' noises. This surprised me.
I am not sure what to make of that...
The main thing is that I am actually feeling more stable. And that is a very good thing.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Puppy Lust...
I want a puppy. Very VERY badly.
I have four old dogs. They are easy and comfortable. They are fabulous, and very well trained, and (mostly) behave beautifully. They know the routine and are perfect. And I need another one like I need a hole in the head. It is clear that life circumstances have rendered me a bit deranged. But that isnt surprising, all things considered. My judgment is a bit impaired right now. I need support. I need you all to tell me that I am nuts in the extreme and to go away - run! Run far away! from these thoughts, NOW!
Getting another dog right now would be a stupid thing to do. It would be for all the wrong reasons. And yet in my heart of hearts, I know it is the only thing, THE ONLY THING, that will make me feel better in my heart. It will be the only balm that will comfort my loss. It is the only thing that will make me love life again, the only thing that will shake me out of this despair and depression, and go away from being in the depths of unhappiness and loss. I know it is. It is what I need, but is it a proper choice? A fair choice? A practical choice? A RESPONSIBLE thing to do right now? And frankly, can I afford it? No. No and no and no.
Reason over passion.... Reason over passion. Which is entirely NOT my nature. At all. I'm trying to be steady and mature. And that, if you know me at all, is hilarious. If you know me at all you will be convulsed with gales of laughter, rolling on the floor with fits of giggles at the thought of me being mature, making practical choices, and taking measure to think things through, and to think of cause and effect. I am laughing about it even as I write this, knowing myself as I do.
B and I are working things out. Baby steps (DONT say 'baby'!) It has been tough. I'm in my own world of grieving, and he's left out in the cold, pretty much, which has been hard for him on top of his own life stresses, which are big right now. Still, I have had the strength to lay down the law and explain that the last straw has been laid on the camels back. And he knows that. This time I have really had enough, and he's towing the line .... for now.
Gods know I'm not perfect. And he does put up with me.... For now, I'm taking the position that large decisions, and major life changes are something I should avoid. So working with status quo and protecting established comfort zones is a must. I just cant handle any more upheaval... as if a puppy would NOT be an upheaval (I SAID I am deranged...)
The other day one of the owners of a store adjacent to us came in with their new puppy. They already have two dogs (crazy with pets like me). A wee scruffalump chihuahua thing. With standing-up-on-end ears . Oh. My. Gods. They called him 'Radar', most appropriately. 4 months old. I almost died. The CUTENESS of him!
Meanwhile, I remind myself that getting a puppy is a major life decision. Dont do it. And still I am yearning..... All of our Dogs are old. 10. 11,11, and 12. They are in great form and healthy, but once they start to go, it will be a domino effect, and without any buffer, in the face of grieving for my brother, and my cat Pushkin, what shall I do? (Here's the compulsion speaking loudly over rational assessment. Give me strength!) If there were a sweet little puppy-person here, could I weather the losses with a grounding and an anchor to the here and now? Might there be a small answer to loss in focusing on life and renewal? Of being busy with happiness and puppy-love? Am I thinking ahead, or just borrowing trouble and trying to justify a life choice coming out of pure emotion? Well, probably. But the other side of the coin has all kind of of enticing arguments for it.....
B's not all bad. I tell him of my feelings. He said, and I quote, "Well I wouldnt have a shit-eating grin on my face if I came home and found that you'd got us a new puppy. But I'd get over it pretty quick. And I understand where that need is coming from". As I said, he's not all bad. He's lovely, actually, when he isnt going off the deep end himself.
I am known as 'the dog lady', and every one who comes to the store who has a dog brings it to me, to get treats and to confer about training, diet and general dog stuff. I love that. I love them all. It is the highlight of my day when a customer tells me that their dog dragged them into the store and they couldnt pass by without visiting me because the dog wouldnt let them. That's so lovely! And they tell me often that a new trick I taught their dog was a surprise to them, and now the dog is doing it all the time.
I crave a puppy. PLEASE tell me how bad a choice that would be right now. I'm telling myself (and B is too) to give it a year, but I dont know if I will last that long. Imagine how I felt today when a mother and her 4 gorgeous kids came in to the store: one of the kids holding a miniature pinscher ( a breed I dont even love). Then I'm holding 'Rosa' - she's 5 months old, and she looks exactly like a cinnamon coloured doberman in tiny version - a breed I DO love - and she's nestled into my shirt, offering me puppy kisses, and shortly thereafter, nodding off to sleep on my breast.
Yeah.
I'm not going to last a year. I know that for sure. Just help me last a little longer. Tell me all the reasons why getting a puppy right now is a very stupid idea (I know them all. Seriously. I just need some support here). Just help me stay steady and not succumb to puppy-lust! Not yet.
I know you are all on my side. I know you are supporting me. So tell me how bad a decision to make a space for puppy-love, and heart-healing with a new dog-person would be. Tell me all of the reasons you can think of why this would be a very stupid thing to do right now. Please!
On a high note, tonight's supper was fabulous and I do say so meself. I bought a halibut fillet for B and a salmon fillet for me. Soak fillets in a bowl for a few minutes in juice of lemon and lime. Dredge with whole grain all purpose flour, coat fillets in Dijon mustard, then roll fillets in and coat with the following mixture: finely chopped basil, parsley, lemon zest, lime zest, lots of freshly ground pepper, some salt, and bread crumbs. Lay into a pan of sizzling butter and cook each side quite quickly until browned. Accompany the fish with organic brown rice, julienne carrots, steamed broccoli and peas.
SO very, very yum! Easy. Relatively quick to prepare. Easy to make. And most importantly, extremely healthy.
Whilst you are thinking of my dilemma, and how to save me from puppy lust, I encourage you to try this meal. It is really really good! And tell me how it works out for you.
(No false modesty here. I am a very good cook. I love to cook. Alex and I have a long history, in fact, of cooking together, and making meals that should go down into the history of all-star team meals! We rocked. But honesty compels me to tell you that I am a crappy, no a seriously, completely and hopelessly, very abysmally and utter failure as a baker. I suck. We cant all be perfect all of the time.....)
Meanwhile, tomorrow I have my very first ever session with a genuine card-carry psychiatrist. My father is a therapist, my mother is a therapist, and my brother was a certified life-coach, and I've been in therapy for years, so as you can imagine, I am fairly familiar with the drill. The family business, as I often call it. Processing. Yuck. But I've never been to an actual shrink. This should be interesting. I'm not nervous... yet. At worst, it will be a nut-shell sharing of the recent events which have caused me to become so emotionally unhinged. At best, there will be a forum to discuss strategy to rebuld my life, and get some meds that will help with that. Wish me luck.....
I have four old dogs. They are easy and comfortable. They are fabulous, and very well trained, and (mostly) behave beautifully. They know the routine and are perfect. And I need another one like I need a hole in the head. It is clear that life circumstances have rendered me a bit deranged. But that isnt surprising, all things considered. My judgment is a bit impaired right now. I need support. I need you all to tell me that I am nuts in the extreme and to go away - run! Run far away! from these thoughts, NOW!
Getting another dog right now would be a stupid thing to do. It would be for all the wrong reasons. And yet in my heart of hearts, I know it is the only thing, THE ONLY THING, that will make me feel better in my heart. It will be the only balm that will comfort my loss. It is the only thing that will make me love life again, the only thing that will shake me out of this despair and depression, and go away from being in the depths of unhappiness and loss. I know it is. It is what I need, but is it a proper choice? A fair choice? A practical choice? A RESPONSIBLE thing to do right now? And frankly, can I afford it? No. No and no and no.
Reason over passion.... Reason over passion. Which is entirely NOT my nature. At all. I'm trying to be steady and mature. And that, if you know me at all, is hilarious. If you know me at all you will be convulsed with gales of laughter, rolling on the floor with fits of giggles at the thought of me being mature, making practical choices, and taking measure to think things through, and to think of cause and effect. I am laughing about it even as I write this, knowing myself as I do.
B and I are working things out. Baby steps (DONT say 'baby'!) It has been tough. I'm in my own world of grieving, and he's left out in the cold, pretty much, which has been hard for him on top of his own life stresses, which are big right now. Still, I have had the strength to lay down the law and explain that the last straw has been laid on the camels back. And he knows that. This time I have really had enough, and he's towing the line .... for now.
Gods know I'm not perfect. And he does put up with me.... For now, I'm taking the position that large decisions, and major life changes are something I should avoid. So working with status quo and protecting established comfort zones is a must. I just cant handle any more upheaval... as if a puppy would NOT be an upheaval (I SAID I am deranged...)
The other day one of the owners of a store adjacent to us came in with their new puppy. They already have two dogs (crazy with pets like me). A wee scruffalump chihuahua thing. With standing-up-on-end ears . Oh. My. Gods. They called him 'Radar', most appropriately. 4 months old. I almost died. The CUTENESS of him!
Meanwhile, I remind myself that getting a puppy is a major life decision. Dont do it. And still I am yearning..... All of our Dogs are old. 10. 11,11, and 12. They are in great form and healthy, but once they start to go, it will be a domino effect, and without any buffer, in the face of grieving for my brother, and my cat Pushkin, what shall I do? (Here's the compulsion speaking loudly over rational assessment. Give me strength!) If there were a sweet little puppy-person here, could I weather the losses with a grounding and an anchor to the here and now? Might there be a small answer to loss in focusing on life and renewal? Of being busy with happiness and puppy-love? Am I thinking ahead, or just borrowing trouble and trying to justify a life choice coming out of pure emotion? Well, probably. But the other side of the coin has all kind of of enticing arguments for it.....
B's not all bad. I tell him of my feelings. He said, and I quote, "Well I wouldnt have a shit-eating grin on my face if I came home and found that you'd got us a new puppy. But I'd get over it pretty quick. And I understand where that need is coming from". As I said, he's not all bad. He's lovely, actually, when he isnt going off the deep end himself.
I am known as 'the dog lady', and every one who comes to the store who has a dog brings it to me, to get treats and to confer about training, diet and general dog stuff. I love that. I love them all. It is the highlight of my day when a customer tells me that their dog dragged them into the store and they couldnt pass by without visiting me because the dog wouldnt let them. That's so lovely! And they tell me often that a new trick I taught their dog was a surprise to them, and now the dog is doing it all the time.
I crave a puppy. PLEASE tell me how bad a choice that would be right now. I'm telling myself (and B is too) to give it a year, but I dont know if I will last that long. Imagine how I felt today when a mother and her 4 gorgeous kids came in to the store: one of the kids holding a miniature pinscher ( a breed I dont even love). Then I'm holding 'Rosa' - she's 5 months old, and she looks exactly like a cinnamon coloured doberman in tiny version - a breed I DO love - and she's nestled into my shirt, offering me puppy kisses, and shortly thereafter, nodding off to sleep on my breast.
Yeah.
I'm not going to last a year. I know that for sure. Just help me last a little longer. Tell me all the reasons why getting a puppy right now is a very stupid idea (I know them all. Seriously. I just need some support here). Just help me stay steady and not succumb to puppy-lust! Not yet.
I know you are all on my side. I know you are supporting me. So tell me how bad a decision to make a space for puppy-love, and heart-healing with a new dog-person would be. Tell me all of the reasons you can think of why this would be a very stupid thing to do right now. Please!
On a high note, tonight's supper was fabulous and I do say so meself. I bought a halibut fillet for B and a salmon fillet for me. Soak fillets in a bowl for a few minutes in juice of lemon and lime. Dredge with whole grain all purpose flour, coat fillets in Dijon mustard, then roll fillets in and coat with the following mixture: finely chopped basil, parsley, lemon zest, lime zest, lots of freshly ground pepper, some salt, and bread crumbs. Lay into a pan of sizzling butter and cook each side quite quickly until browned. Accompany the fish with organic brown rice, julienne carrots, steamed broccoli and peas.
SO very, very yum! Easy. Relatively quick to prepare. Easy to make. And most importantly, extremely healthy.
Whilst you are thinking of my dilemma, and how to save me from puppy lust, I encourage you to try this meal. It is really really good! And tell me how it works out for you.
(No false modesty here. I am a very good cook. I love to cook. Alex and I have a long history, in fact, of cooking together, and making meals that should go down into the history of all-star team meals! We rocked. But honesty compels me to tell you that I am a crappy, no a seriously, completely and hopelessly, very abysmally and utter failure as a baker. I suck. We cant all be perfect all of the time.....)
Meanwhile, tomorrow I have my very first ever session with a genuine card-carry psychiatrist. My father is a therapist, my mother is a therapist, and my brother was a certified life-coach, and I've been in therapy for years, so as you can imagine, I am fairly familiar with the drill. The family business, as I often call it. Processing. Yuck. But I've never been to an actual shrink. This should be interesting. I'm not nervous... yet. At worst, it will be a nut-shell sharing of the recent events which have caused me to become so emotionally unhinged. At best, there will be a forum to discuss strategy to rebuld my life, and get some meds that will help with that. Wish me luck.....
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Enough... I Think this is Enough....
I dont know, am not sure entirely, but I think I'm done here.
OhGodohGod....OhGod!
Am at my wit's end and am tired of living in that place, of being insecure and of worrying. Of waiting, of hoping, of wanting to be held, to be met, to be listened to, to want to be heard, and to offer that in return; to be comforted, and to be supported. I am in a void of longing to be in partnership. It aint happening. And I think I've had enough.
It has been a rocky road with B, and I understand that he's been lonely, because I've been preoccupied with my family process, but I've had enough with the constant drinking, the absentness, the unconsciousness, and the general not-being there. I'm so fucking tired of it. Does anyone want a partner who is comatose most of the time? It got boring a long time ago. I've needed him, I've been needy lately and have been going through my own hell, as you know, so major life decisions should probably not be on the top of the agenda right now, were I a wise person. But I'm emotional. I'm not wise; I'm impetuous and I have a temper on me which doesnt look pretty when it lets loose. And I am bloody tired unto to death of making room for bullshit. Timing being what it is, delicacy and restraint, patience and acceptance, compassion and understanding have no place in my world right now. Either you are in my corner and are my friend, either you've got my back, 100%, or you are a drain on my energies, which I cant afford, in which case you can fuck right off.
I have nothing left. My brother was diagnosed with cancer. He died five months later. In the same week that he died, I had to put down my beloved 14 year old cat. I think I'm probably not the most loving or stable person to live with right now, but all things considered, I've been pretty good at trying to get on with things; I've been trying not to let my own process overshadow life in general. Never have I allowed my grief to manifest into unkindness toward another. I have a melt-down twice a week, generally, seems to be the pattern at the moment, but I'm not blaming anyone, I'm not angry at anyone, I dont act out in any way which might cause harm to anyone. I believe that I deserve a bit of support and some respect. Just maybe a little, for the sake of 7 years of companionship, and mutual life sharing. I dont think that is too bloody much to ask; do you!?
Brian is missing. Again. AGAIN. Goddammit. This is not a new behavior. He's very late and presumably drunk, passed out at a friend's somewhere.... It is nigh on 10pm. I'm so tired of this. Dont you think a normal person with respect for their partner would have checked in by now to give an update on the day, or night? To let one's apparent loved-one into the loop of what is going on, where one is and why!?
He cheated on me last summer. We were going through a very rough patch and I had told him then that I'd had enough. That I didnt want his crap anymore. So that gave him license, apparently, to get drunk enough not to care whom he fucked. We've (I've) tried to repair and recover from that.....
Becauee I found out my brother was dying and I wanted to preserve what was good in life, I wanted to make sure my priorities focussed on healing, on loving, on making sure that what matters in life was what I was putting my heart into.... I wanted to believe that love can heal everything and that trust can be rebuilt. Through all of that I couldnt bear to face another ending and another death. My brother. My relationship. I couldnt face the loss of both. I wanted to believe that love could heal all. Cancer, shitty relationships, past baggage... and we set a star to focus on, as a family, to believe in. But Brian never made the effort to go there....
He just got busy with his beer.
I wanted to believe that he was willing to change, because this was the biggest 'wake-up call' ever. Hello! Lets get with the program, and get with a healthy life-style, a healthy mind-set, a positive process!
And yet... nothing has changed....B is absent. Again. And as usual. How am I to know that he isnt doing it again? How am I to know he isnt cheating? This is the umpteenth time he's not checked in, he's not told me where he is, He's not called, he's not available on his new cell phone which I bought him for Christmas.....He's just NOT THERE. AS USUAL. Absent. Not available. NOT THERE.
I am tired unto the marrow of my bones with weariness with this bullshit. I dont need it at the best of times and in the worst time of my life, in the darkest hour of my worst nightmare come true, which is what I am living right now, he's just not there.
I think we are done here. Unless he's dead in a ditch ( which I am not sure I would mind terribly, right now) or has a very very good reason for not being at the end of the phone when I call, I think we are done here. This isnt good enough. I've been patient for 7 years. I have no energy left to do this.
Give me strength. Give me the strength to chuck him out. Please. Send me your support to make a break, at the most critically difficult time of my life. PLEASE! Please send me your good thoughts and support. Let me know that I will survive without him, and that I can go on alone. Alex is gone. Tashy is gone away. There is no one else to be with me. I am alone. How sad and pathetic is that? Very. I have to accept. To compromise my Self anymore will be my undoing. I shouldnt have to do that as a barter to be not alone in life, and yet fundamentally, still find myself acutely alone..... It isnt good enough.
I deserve a lot better. I know I do. I know I'm not perfect. I know I'm trouble, and I am difficult, who doesnt have baggage?! But I have never in 7 years, nor would I ever, do this to him. I have never treated him this way, been unavailable, been absent, been just gone... who knows where or with whom? He does it all the time.
This is a hard time. It seems that it is going to get even more challenging. I dont think I can do this relationship any longer..... All I want is loving kindness, to echo what I offer. All I want is an ear, to listen, to offer arms to embrace in mutual support, to be there and to have someone be there for me..... Is that too much to ask? All I want is stability, and security, which is what I offer and want to co-create. I feel like our home is a hotel which B passes in and out of at his convenience....
I dont think that is good enough. No. It isnt good enough.
Oh Gods... can it get worse?
This is just so crappy. Shitlemerde.
OhGodohGod....OhGod!
Am at my wit's end and am tired of living in that place, of being insecure and of worrying. Of waiting, of hoping, of wanting to be held, to be met, to be listened to, to want to be heard, and to offer that in return; to be comforted, and to be supported. I am in a void of longing to be in partnership. It aint happening. And I think I've had enough.
It has been a rocky road with B, and I understand that he's been lonely, because I've been preoccupied with my family process, but I've had enough with the constant drinking, the absentness, the unconsciousness, and the general not-being there. I'm so fucking tired of it. Does anyone want a partner who is comatose most of the time? It got boring a long time ago. I've needed him, I've been needy lately and have been going through my own hell, as you know, so major life decisions should probably not be on the top of the agenda right now, were I a wise person. But I'm emotional. I'm not wise; I'm impetuous and I have a temper on me which doesnt look pretty when it lets loose. And I am bloody tired unto to death of making room for bullshit. Timing being what it is, delicacy and restraint, patience and acceptance, compassion and understanding have no place in my world right now. Either you are in my corner and are my friend, either you've got my back, 100%, or you are a drain on my energies, which I cant afford, in which case you can fuck right off.
I have nothing left. My brother was diagnosed with cancer. He died five months later. In the same week that he died, I had to put down my beloved 14 year old cat. I think I'm probably not the most loving or stable person to live with right now, but all things considered, I've been pretty good at trying to get on with things; I've been trying not to let my own process overshadow life in general. Never have I allowed my grief to manifest into unkindness toward another. I have a melt-down twice a week, generally, seems to be the pattern at the moment, but I'm not blaming anyone, I'm not angry at anyone, I dont act out in any way which might cause harm to anyone. I believe that I deserve a bit of support and some respect. Just maybe a little, for the sake of 7 years of companionship, and mutual life sharing. I dont think that is too bloody much to ask; do you!?
Brian is missing. Again. AGAIN. Goddammit. This is not a new behavior. He's very late and presumably drunk, passed out at a friend's somewhere.... It is nigh on 10pm. I'm so tired of this. Dont you think a normal person with respect for their partner would have checked in by now to give an update on the day, or night? To let one's apparent loved-one into the loop of what is going on, where one is and why!?
He cheated on me last summer. We were going through a very rough patch and I had told him then that I'd had enough. That I didnt want his crap anymore. So that gave him license, apparently, to get drunk enough not to care whom he fucked. We've (I've) tried to repair and recover from that.....
Becauee I found out my brother was dying and I wanted to preserve what was good in life, I wanted to make sure my priorities focussed on healing, on loving, on making sure that what matters in life was what I was putting my heart into.... I wanted to believe that love can heal everything and that trust can be rebuilt. Through all of that I couldnt bear to face another ending and another death. My brother. My relationship. I couldnt face the loss of both. I wanted to believe that love could heal all. Cancer, shitty relationships, past baggage... and we set a star to focus on, as a family, to believe in. But Brian never made the effort to go there....
He just got busy with his beer.
I wanted to believe that he was willing to change, because this was the biggest 'wake-up call' ever. Hello! Lets get with the program, and get with a healthy life-style, a healthy mind-set, a positive process!
And yet... nothing has changed....B is absent. Again. And as usual. How am I to know that he isnt doing it again? How am I to know he isnt cheating? This is the umpteenth time he's not checked in, he's not told me where he is, He's not called, he's not available on his new cell phone which I bought him for Christmas.....He's just NOT THERE. AS USUAL. Absent. Not available. NOT THERE.
I am tired unto the marrow of my bones with weariness with this bullshit. I dont need it at the best of times and in the worst time of my life, in the darkest hour of my worst nightmare come true, which is what I am living right now, he's just not there.
I think we are done here. Unless he's dead in a ditch ( which I am not sure I would mind terribly, right now) or has a very very good reason for not being at the end of the phone when I call, I think we are done here. This isnt good enough. I've been patient for 7 years. I have no energy left to do this.
Give me strength. Give me the strength to chuck him out. Please. Send me your support to make a break, at the most critically difficult time of my life. PLEASE! Please send me your good thoughts and support. Let me know that I will survive without him, and that I can go on alone. Alex is gone. Tashy is gone away. There is no one else to be with me. I am alone. How sad and pathetic is that? Very. I have to accept. To compromise my Self anymore will be my undoing. I shouldnt have to do that as a barter to be not alone in life, and yet fundamentally, still find myself acutely alone..... It isnt good enough.
I deserve a lot better. I know I do. I know I'm not perfect. I know I'm trouble, and I am difficult, who doesnt have baggage?! But I have never in 7 years, nor would I ever, do this to him. I have never treated him this way, been unavailable, been absent, been just gone... who knows where or with whom? He does it all the time.
This is a hard time. It seems that it is going to get even more challenging. I dont think I can do this relationship any longer..... All I want is loving kindness, to echo what I offer. All I want is an ear, to listen, to offer arms to embrace in mutual support, to be there and to have someone be there for me..... Is that too much to ask? All I want is stability, and security, which is what I offer and want to co-create. I feel like our home is a hotel which B passes in and out of at his convenience....
I dont think that is good enough. No. It isnt good enough.
Oh Gods... can it get worse?
This is just so crappy. Shitlemerde.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Breathing Through one Moment at a Time.....
Better day today. Every 'better' day is an achievement.
I went to a trade show the beginning of February. I saw a friend of mine whom I've known since fourth grade, we grew up together, and we laughed, we cried, and did all of that grieving bonding stuff with far too much red wine. It was more healing than I can even find words to tell you. It was very good!
The trade show was intense. 12 hour days, so much mental and visual stimulation I felt brain-dead at the end of every day. It was fun, but also was very much about me finding my way and trying to be steady with that, whilst navigating this new territory that is 'Life Without Alex'. That was really hard, continues to be hard. But I know Alex was (and is) very proud of me for my work, what I am doing and for finding a job that I love so much. It isn't an important job in the world, or the big picture, but I'm good at it, and it gives me pleasure. And that matters.
At the show, it was and is still now, like being on a teeter-totter, or a roller-coaster. Times it was fun, and great, and I felt confident, knew what I was doing, and felt strong. Laughed a lot. Stayed steady. Made good choices, was decisive, and knew what was needed, and met that need. I was observing myself, watching how I was moving through the experience, one month after my brother died.....As it was then, two months into it now, it is the same: Some days I am okay, some days not so much. I am great in certain moments, and a basket case in others.
I'm trying to grasp what this process is. It is so foreign, so wrong, so hard....sometimes it is like a gaping, yawning abyss opens up before me, unannounced, and very suddenly. I watch myself emotionally windmilling my arms, standing on the precipice of the deep hole of grief, trying to catch my balance and desperately striving for balance, as I teeter on that edge. It comes without warning, so the ability to steel myself, to be prepared or to find coping mechanisms is pointless. I cant.
I cant.
Better day today. It was ok. I went through the motions and got busy at work and actually enjoyed it. That is good. Mostly I can cope. But then in the afternoons, when I've put all of my energy into creating a semblance of constancy and normalcy, I get tired. All of my energy goes into maintenance. Into putting one foot in front of the other and I focus on that. It is just that when I am side-swiped by the abyss that I falter.... And in the evenings, when I come home, there is simply nothing left. The day I don't panic is a good day.
What's beautiful about this process, and also very hard, as a double edged sword, is the sadness and grief of the people in my community, and their desire to share their feelings with me. Their expression of support is a great gift. But a burden too....It happens most days. Today a former client came into the store and asked after Alex. I had to tell him what happened. He hadn't known. He was stunned. Gutted. We said the obligatory sad things, the sharing of shock, the welling of tears, and then he said, "I think I need to go away now and think about this...." And he left crying. I'm left standing there with my work to do, and my business to conduct like a 'normal' person who's life has not been freshly reminded of a missing limb. Of a heart torn right out of my being.....
And then later, shopping for supper at the grocery store, I encounter another person who hugs me, kisses me, expresses her condolences, eyes welling, and I am comforted, but likewise newly grief stricken. Like a bandage that keeps being ripped off the wound. A wound which bleeds constantly. And I find myself needing to be strong for them. Needing to Offer them support. And I'm not equipped to do so. But I pretend. I go through the motions..... I receive their kindness, their sincere offers of heart-felt sorrow at this great loss, and I go away from the encounter feeling loved, and feeling equally bereft and stripped bare.
Days off, I sleep. I curl up on the couch and watch tv. The day I did panic, and ended up in the hospital (last week - heart palpitations, dizziness, crying uncontrollably for 7 hours, I thought I was literally losing my mind, cracking up, done for.) I was told that everything I am feeling and experiencing is 'normal'. Jesus wept. They gave me a pill, were kind to me, gave be a bag to breath into when I needed it, and then let me sleep. The difference was, I felt not alone, and I felt understood and comforted. I felt absolutely heard, understood, and had permission to fall apart and not be strong for anybody. They were strong for me. Bless them. They were there for me. Which when push comes to shove, in a crisis, I do not feel, at home. B is not one for 'feelings'. I have to take care of myself. So that's what I did. That's what I do.
Today was a better day. I didn't freak out. I got through it, and did well. One step at a time. One moment at a time.
I will heal. I will move forward, and I will get strong again. It is just going to take some time.... I'm making it up as I go along, and I don't really know what to do in any given moment. I just have to breathe, breathe, breathe deep, and be grateful for days that are ok.....
For those of you who knew me in my former blog before it was stolen, as 'Chupaflor' know this: This Hummingbird will fly gain. I just need to be in my nest a while; hunker down, be very quiet and heal. Its gonna take some time.....
Bird.
I went to a trade show the beginning of February. I saw a friend of mine whom I've known since fourth grade, we grew up together, and we laughed, we cried, and did all of that grieving bonding stuff with far too much red wine. It was more healing than I can even find words to tell you. It was very good!
The trade show was intense. 12 hour days, so much mental and visual stimulation I felt brain-dead at the end of every day. It was fun, but also was very much about me finding my way and trying to be steady with that, whilst navigating this new territory that is 'Life Without Alex'. That was really hard, continues to be hard. But I know Alex was (and is) very proud of me for my work, what I am doing and for finding a job that I love so much. It isn't an important job in the world, or the big picture, but I'm good at it, and it gives me pleasure. And that matters.
At the show, it was and is still now, like being on a teeter-totter, or a roller-coaster. Times it was fun, and great, and I felt confident, knew what I was doing, and felt strong. Laughed a lot. Stayed steady. Made good choices, was decisive, and knew what was needed, and met that need. I was observing myself, watching how I was moving through the experience, one month after my brother died.....As it was then, two months into it now, it is the same: Some days I am okay, some days not so much. I am great in certain moments, and a basket case in others.
I'm trying to grasp what this process is. It is so foreign, so wrong, so hard....sometimes it is like a gaping, yawning abyss opens up before me, unannounced, and very suddenly. I watch myself emotionally windmilling my arms, standing on the precipice of the deep hole of grief, trying to catch my balance and desperately striving for balance, as I teeter on that edge. It comes without warning, so the ability to steel myself, to be prepared or to find coping mechanisms is pointless. I cant.
I cant.
Better day today. It was ok. I went through the motions and got busy at work and actually enjoyed it. That is good. Mostly I can cope. But then in the afternoons, when I've put all of my energy into creating a semblance of constancy and normalcy, I get tired. All of my energy goes into maintenance. Into putting one foot in front of the other and I focus on that. It is just that when I am side-swiped by the abyss that I falter.... And in the evenings, when I come home, there is simply nothing left. The day I don't panic is a good day.
What's beautiful about this process, and also very hard, as a double edged sword, is the sadness and grief of the people in my community, and their desire to share their feelings with me. Their expression of support is a great gift. But a burden too....It happens most days. Today a former client came into the store and asked after Alex. I had to tell him what happened. He hadn't known. He was stunned. Gutted. We said the obligatory sad things, the sharing of shock, the welling of tears, and then he said, "I think I need to go away now and think about this...." And he left crying. I'm left standing there with my work to do, and my business to conduct like a 'normal' person who's life has not been freshly reminded of a missing limb. Of a heart torn right out of my being.....
And then later, shopping for supper at the grocery store, I encounter another person who hugs me, kisses me, expresses her condolences, eyes welling, and I am comforted, but likewise newly grief stricken. Like a bandage that keeps being ripped off the wound. A wound which bleeds constantly. And I find myself needing to be strong for them. Needing to Offer them support. And I'm not equipped to do so. But I pretend. I go through the motions..... I receive their kindness, their sincere offers of heart-felt sorrow at this great loss, and I go away from the encounter feeling loved, and feeling equally bereft and stripped bare.
Days off, I sleep. I curl up on the couch and watch tv. The day I did panic, and ended up in the hospital (last week - heart palpitations, dizziness, crying uncontrollably for 7 hours, I thought I was literally losing my mind, cracking up, done for.) I was told that everything I am feeling and experiencing is 'normal'. Jesus wept. They gave me a pill, were kind to me, gave be a bag to breath into when I needed it, and then let me sleep. The difference was, I felt not alone, and I felt understood and comforted. I felt absolutely heard, understood, and had permission to fall apart and not be strong for anybody. They were strong for me. Bless them. They were there for me. Which when push comes to shove, in a crisis, I do not feel, at home. B is not one for 'feelings'. I have to take care of myself. So that's what I did. That's what I do.
Today was a better day. I didn't freak out. I got through it, and did well. One step at a time. One moment at a time.
I will heal. I will move forward, and I will get strong again. It is just going to take some time.... I'm making it up as I go along, and I don't really know what to do in any given moment. I just have to breathe, breathe, breathe deep, and be grateful for days that are ok.....
For those of you who knew me in my former blog before it was stolen, as 'Chupaflor' know this: This Hummingbird will fly gain. I just need to be in my nest a while; hunker down, be very quiet and heal. Its gonna take some time.....
Bird.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Melt Down....
I had to put my 14 year old cat down a few days after my brother died. Pushkin had, would you believe, colon cancer, too. My dad had a tumor removed this summer. What is it with the men in my family!?
He had major surgery in october and everything looked rosy until the lab-work came back. Very bad cancer. So we had an extra couple of months of him being back to his old self, bopping around, loving life and everyone in it the the delirious and insatiable life-hog that he was. I havent been able to sleep in my bed since. I sleep on the couch. Pushkin used to sleep on a pillow beside my head. I think this weekend I will take control of the bedroom, move some things around, clear the energy, and reclaim the space. Its time.
I am comforted to know that Alex and Pushkin are together. Alex had a way of attracting cats, strays. They would just show up. Even if they didnt live with him, neighborhood cats would hang out with him. He never fed them, but they wanted to be with him, schmooz with him. He never wanted one. Liked them well enough (loved Pushkin) but didnt want the hair, the responsibility.
It makes me laugh to know that he now has the cat he always never wanted. Because I have told them to stick together, and I know they will. And they will look out for one another.
I'm doing one day on and one day off at work. My colleagues and managers are understanding, amazingly kind and supportive. More so than I ever imagined. Mostly I am getting through my days is a daze, but the rhythm of work is seeping back into me and the distraction is a help. Most of the time. However, by mid-afternoon, I begin to feel overwhelmed and fragile. Today I told a colleague that I just needed to get some air on the deck, and WHAM! Full-blown anxiety attack, complete with feelings which convinced me, even though I know better that 'I'm dying!' Heart palpitations, sobbing, dizziness, shortness of breath, unable to speak. They got me a paper bag. After 20 minutes I could talk through my crying. Everyone was so kind. They held me, stayed with me, told me not to worry about anything, and wiped their own tears from their eyes.
I left early and came home. Feel more calm now, but am drained. I dont know how to do this......
Bird
He had major surgery in october and everything looked rosy until the lab-work came back. Very bad cancer. So we had an extra couple of months of him being back to his old self, bopping around, loving life and everyone in it the the delirious and insatiable life-hog that he was. I havent been able to sleep in my bed since. I sleep on the couch. Pushkin used to sleep on a pillow beside my head. I think this weekend I will take control of the bedroom, move some things around, clear the energy, and reclaim the space. Its time.
I am comforted to know that Alex and Pushkin are together. Alex had a way of attracting cats, strays. They would just show up. Even if they didnt live with him, neighborhood cats would hang out with him. He never fed them, but they wanted to be with him, schmooz with him. He never wanted one. Liked them well enough (loved Pushkin) but didnt want the hair, the responsibility.
It makes me laugh to know that he now has the cat he always never wanted. Because I have told them to stick together, and I know they will. And they will look out for one another.
I'm doing one day on and one day off at work. My colleagues and managers are understanding, amazingly kind and supportive. More so than I ever imagined. Mostly I am getting through my days is a daze, but the rhythm of work is seeping back into me and the distraction is a help. Most of the time. However, by mid-afternoon, I begin to feel overwhelmed and fragile. Today I told a colleague that I just needed to get some air on the deck, and WHAM! Full-blown anxiety attack, complete with feelings which convinced me, even though I know better that 'I'm dying!' Heart palpitations, sobbing, dizziness, shortness of breath, unable to speak. They got me a paper bag. After 20 minutes I could talk through my crying. Everyone was so kind. They held me, stayed with me, told me not to worry about anything, and wiped their own tears from their eyes.
I left early and came home. Feel more calm now, but am drained. I dont know how to do this......
Bird
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Life.... And Death
I havent blogged in a long time. I havent been able to. I've been busy with my life. That sounds stupid. But I really havent been able to bring myself to be here.
There has been an ending of an era, and I needed to put all of my attention there....while it was still possible. And so now that era is over, and I must begin a new one.
My brother was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer August 2nd, 2009, after over a year of suffering from what he thought was irritable bowel syndrome. He died December 28th, not of cancer. Can you believe that? He had a blood clot......It isnt fair. He was getting better.
I dont know how to be an only child. I dont know how to deal with my bereavement, which I feel from of the depths of my Soul to the tiniest minutiae of the most mundane thing. I dont know how to cope with the world that doesnt have him here, in it.
It isnt fair. He and Tash had plans. They wanted to create a family. He had so many things he was brilliant at that he wanted to develop. His writing. His coaching career. Writing a column for one of the Formula One websites. He was finally living with purpose and Intention, and was savoring every moment of his life, and his dreams for the future. He was only 42 years old.
My father came from Germany with his fiancee to celebrate Christmas with us. Mum and Tashy's parents were there. We hadnt had a family Christmas like that in 14 years... Christmas eve was traditional cold fare, and Christmas day Alex helped cook, and I made a 23 lbs bird. It was amazing. Such a good time. We were all so happy and loving, and full of hope. I gave everyone a print of one of my paintings. An Angel wing....Alex died the day after dad left.
I'm ok. I am, really. Even though I dont know what ok looks like now, but I am ok. And I will be ok. Alex wouldnt want me to go into the dark places. And so I'm not going there.
I feel him near me all the time. He is here. I see his smile, hear his sardonic, "I CANT believe you said that, Christine', laughing (famous for foot-in-mouth syndrome, me.) I feel him smiling in approval. I feel him rolling his eyes sometimes, still laughing. I feel his distress at having to leave us... But mostly I feel his humour, and his astute clarity coming through. His calm, rational perspective, always gently infused with his therapist's eye for the human condition...
His partner Tash, Mum and I were with him when he went. It was fast and unexpected. He was going to live, you see. The radical therapies he was on had cleared the tumor from his liver.... He was getting stronger, and his body was healing. The one tumor was dying off, the other was shrinking.....It was the other variables that couldnt be controlled. His PH was neutral. His levels were good in everything. Organ function, everything was strong. Aside from cancer, he was vitally healthy. And then it all went bad.
I am very angry. At him, at the hospital (they are an easy target and I know they followed 'protocol' and it isnt their fault, but I am ANGRY!)I am angry at life, at our fates. I go through denial, acceptance, fear, shock, anger, rage, unspeakable grief and calm all in the space of an hour, and then all over again. And again.
It is just all wrong without him.
He died the same day that my sister died, stillborn 35 years ago. My mother .... my mother.... Oh Gods....
Some days are better than others. Today was a bad day. Today, for the first time, I feel sadness. I feel empty. Hollow. And that is more real than anything.
I dont know how to be an only child.....
I dont want to know this terrible thing.
There has been an ending of an era, and I needed to put all of my attention there....while it was still possible. And so now that era is over, and I must begin a new one.
My brother was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer August 2nd, 2009, after over a year of suffering from what he thought was irritable bowel syndrome. He died December 28th, not of cancer. Can you believe that? He had a blood clot......It isnt fair. He was getting better.
I dont know how to be an only child. I dont know how to deal with my bereavement, which I feel from of the depths of my Soul to the tiniest minutiae of the most mundane thing. I dont know how to cope with the world that doesnt have him here, in it.
It isnt fair. He and Tash had plans. They wanted to create a family. He had so many things he was brilliant at that he wanted to develop. His writing. His coaching career. Writing a column for one of the Formula One websites. He was finally living with purpose and Intention, and was savoring every moment of his life, and his dreams for the future. He was only 42 years old.
My father came from Germany with his fiancee to celebrate Christmas with us. Mum and Tashy's parents were there. We hadnt had a family Christmas like that in 14 years... Christmas eve was traditional cold fare, and Christmas day Alex helped cook, and I made a 23 lbs bird. It was amazing. Such a good time. We were all so happy and loving, and full of hope. I gave everyone a print of one of my paintings. An Angel wing....Alex died the day after dad left.
I'm ok. I am, really. Even though I dont know what ok looks like now, but I am ok. And I will be ok. Alex wouldnt want me to go into the dark places. And so I'm not going there.
I feel him near me all the time. He is here. I see his smile, hear his sardonic, "I CANT believe you said that, Christine', laughing (famous for foot-in-mouth syndrome, me.) I feel him smiling in approval. I feel him rolling his eyes sometimes, still laughing. I feel his distress at having to leave us... But mostly I feel his humour, and his astute clarity coming through. His calm, rational perspective, always gently infused with his therapist's eye for the human condition...
His partner Tash, Mum and I were with him when he went. It was fast and unexpected. He was going to live, you see. The radical therapies he was on had cleared the tumor from his liver.... He was getting stronger, and his body was healing. The one tumor was dying off, the other was shrinking.....It was the other variables that couldnt be controlled. His PH was neutral. His levels were good in everything. Organ function, everything was strong. Aside from cancer, he was vitally healthy. And then it all went bad.
I am very angry. At him, at the hospital (they are an easy target and I know they followed 'protocol' and it isnt their fault, but I am ANGRY!)I am angry at life, at our fates. I go through denial, acceptance, fear, shock, anger, rage, unspeakable grief and calm all in the space of an hour, and then all over again. And again.
It is just all wrong without him.
He died the same day that my sister died, stillborn 35 years ago. My mother .... my mother.... Oh Gods....
Some days are better than others. Today was a bad day. Today, for the first time, I feel sadness. I feel empty. Hollow. And that is more real than anything.
I dont know how to be an only child.....
I dont want to know this terrible thing.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Seriously? SERIOUSLY!
I do not know whether to laugh or cry. Whether to applaud or barf. 8 babies.... count em.... EIGHT. AND another 6 all under the age of 8. Its a litter of pups! How can one person care for so many hungry mouths adequately?
I guess money can buy you happiness. Or babies. Personally, I'd have been content with one.
On the other side of infertility I want to say, "You GO girl!" I want to send flowers and praises to a woman who loves children, loves having them and mothering them, and who, being single, just damns the torpedoes and goes full steam ahead. That's chutzpah! That's a lady with a dream, and backbone enough to make it happen. That is one human being with a lot of love to give ( or a big need for unconditional love, because lets face it, the only real unconditional love, comes from the Creator - who knows everything - and little babies - who can hardly know any better.) Still, here is a person who dared to make a family, in her desired image, and that is really something. I respect that. But something in my stomach is turning. 8. (Well 14 now) Will they get all the care they need? Will there be enough of their mother left over to actually have anything to give at the end of the day? (How can she afford it... though looking at her face, and the obviously extensive plastic surgery she's had - poor thing- she clearly has money)...Is it jealousy? Or old age? Am I becoming conservative and judgmental in my middle age? Or am I just sensing a boundary between what is possible and what is reasonable? And who the hell am I to say anyway?!
I smell a reality show coming on.Yegads.
I am one of the most liberal minded people I know. But seriously!
What do YOU think?
I guess money can buy you happiness. Or babies. Personally, I'd have been content with one.
On the other side of infertility I want to say, "You GO girl!" I want to send flowers and praises to a woman who loves children, loves having them and mothering them, and who, being single, just damns the torpedoes and goes full steam ahead. That's chutzpah! That's a lady with a dream, and backbone enough to make it happen. That is one human being with a lot of love to give ( or a big need for unconditional love, because lets face it, the only real unconditional love, comes from the Creator - who knows everything - and little babies - who can hardly know any better.) Still, here is a person who dared to make a family, in her desired image, and that is really something. I respect that. But something in my stomach is turning. 8. (Well 14 now) Will they get all the care they need? Will there be enough of their mother left over to actually have anything to give at the end of the day? (How can she afford it... though looking at her face, and the obviously extensive plastic surgery she's had - poor thing- she clearly has money)...Is it jealousy? Or old age? Am I becoming conservative and judgmental in my middle age? Or am I just sensing a boundary between what is possible and what is reasonable? And who the hell am I to say anyway?!
I smell a reality show coming on.Yegads.
I am one of the most liberal minded people I know. But seriously!
What do YOU think?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
I am Full of Tears.....
Having had a wobbly day anyway, at work (just from so much to do, not with anything bad)I got home and logged on to read, instead of watch, the inaugural speech, thinking reading would be less emotionally intense. I didn't want to cry today....
I'm Canadian. We don't hold with guns and racism, or bigotry of any stripe, although we have our fair share. But mostly we don't like that sort of thing. It isn't nice. Isn't civilized....By and large, we are a pretty tolerant and amenable bunch. Polite, you might say.....
And so I'm sitting here covered with goose-bumps, with tears in my eyes, thinking, 'Damn! About time!'
To my cousins to the south - and I do, actually, have cousins in the 'south' (mostly Pennsylvania)if somewhat secondly or thirdly removed, still....we are all related... In Native tradition, at the end of a prayer, one acknowledges the connectedness of all things by offering gratitude to "all my relations", and this includes the mineral, plant, animal and Human realms.
My heart is full and I have a thing to say:
"People of America, well done! The World has been waiting long and long for this day! Collectively, you have chosen to take the reins of the present and wrested it, with great courage and in the face of dire times, from the archaic model of the past. Armed with clarity of purpose, with a vision of Justice, and the Will to live that dream, you have put on your 'seven league boots' and finally rejoined the rest of the World in our journey towards peace! In a Very Big Way! This is how we make dreams Reality! You have claimed a goal for the future which is about inclusion and understanding, disavowing and rejecting that fear-based path which was wielded with arrogance and entitlement in the past. You have chosen to move forward by making a statement of respect, and ultimately of Self-respect, in voicing a desire to create unity in this world, and standing for that statement, and for this world. Choosing to move forward with hope and choosing to go beyond fear into a place where possibility can at last breathe. Not just for yourselves, but for all human beings living on this planet. That is what leaders do. I tell you three times, That is what leaders do! And I say to you that the world is very proud of you! I bless you and thank you, on behalf of all reasoning peoples who desire peace and security for all, I thank you for reclaiming your heritage and your future! This choice will have a large impact on the direction of the future of the world, and now we all can finally believe that the future is a good place to work toward. Together. Together we can do it. We can make the world a place where human beings can live safely, securely, and in harmony. I honor you, my cousins to the south, my relatives, my fellow human beings, People of America, for taking this step forward as leaders of this new Path."
Hoh. All my relations.
And now I am crying.
But my weeping is for Joy...
I'm Canadian. We don't hold with guns and racism, or bigotry of any stripe, although we have our fair share. But mostly we don't like that sort of thing. It isn't nice. Isn't civilized....By and large, we are a pretty tolerant and amenable bunch. Polite, you might say.....
And so I'm sitting here covered with goose-bumps, with tears in my eyes, thinking, 'Damn! About time!'
To my cousins to the south - and I do, actually, have cousins in the 'south' (mostly Pennsylvania)if somewhat secondly or thirdly removed, still....we are all related... In Native tradition, at the end of a prayer, one acknowledges the connectedness of all things by offering gratitude to "all my relations", and this includes the mineral, plant, animal and Human realms.
My heart is full and I have a thing to say:
"People of America, well done! The World has been waiting long and long for this day! Collectively, you have chosen to take the reins of the present and wrested it, with great courage and in the face of dire times, from the archaic model of the past. Armed with clarity of purpose, with a vision of Justice, and the Will to live that dream, you have put on your 'seven league boots' and finally rejoined the rest of the World in our journey towards peace! In a Very Big Way! This is how we make dreams Reality! You have claimed a goal for the future which is about inclusion and understanding, disavowing and rejecting that fear-based path which was wielded with arrogance and entitlement in the past. You have chosen to move forward by making a statement of respect, and ultimately of Self-respect, in voicing a desire to create unity in this world, and standing for that statement, and for this world. Choosing to move forward with hope and choosing to go beyond fear into a place where possibility can at last breathe. Not just for yourselves, but for all human beings living on this planet. That is what leaders do. I tell you three times, That is what leaders do! And I say to you that the world is very proud of you! I bless you and thank you, on behalf of all reasoning peoples who desire peace and security for all, I thank you for reclaiming your heritage and your future! This choice will have a large impact on the direction of the future of the world, and now we all can finally believe that the future is a good place to work toward. Together. Together we can do it. We can make the world a place where human beings can live safely, securely, and in harmony. I honor you, my cousins to the south, my relatives, my fellow human beings, People of America, for taking this step forward as leaders of this new Path."
Hoh. All my relations.
And now I am crying.
But my weeping is for Joy...
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Upside of Taking Things for Granted......
.... if there is such a thing. And I think there is.
We take certain basic things for granted. The Sun will rise tomorrow. Air for breathing, for example. We assume that our hearts will still be beating the morning after the night before, when in trust we fall asleep.... into that profoundly vulnerable place; that place of utter defenselessness.
We assume things, and we must in order to feel safe. If we didn't, we'd go stark raving bonkers immediately. Everything would be dangerous, if not deadly.
So that covers the basics. Yes, we take those for granted. And then there are the other things, like food and shelter, which we in the privileged cultures also take for granted. Not that we don't work our arses off to maintain these things. The fundamentals. Paying rent. Utilities. Taxes. Putting food on table and keeping roof over head, not to mention making sure we have enough money to pay the vets bills. Etc, etc. Finding meaning in work is at an even higher lever and not all of us are so fortunate. But we try.
Still there are other more subtle things we take for granted in the realms of the heart and which have to do with with the intricate threads woven between people over time, who love one another. This is a more delicate thing. At a certain level, if we don't trust with that huge leap of faith that the other (friend, lover, parent) will be there no matter what, then we live in perpetual fear of abandonment. We need to know that we can fuck up and that we are forgivable. We need to know that we can make detours, and that when we come round our circle will receive us with loving welcome.
Faith is a leap of faith. And trust is about faith, I think. It isn't about an observation of events that weigh out with a pro or con. Trust is not that clinical. It is instinctual. Emotional. It isn't about experience that shows us that we are putting our hearts on the line foolishly. It is about faith. Trust is a fragile thing, and it is a choice, but it is also a very visceral thing which speaks from a deep place in the gut, 'evidence' to the contrary, notwithstanding. We hope that trust will bear out to be well-placed and we have faith in that. In our families. In our friendships. In our communities. In where we put our vote. Because trust and Hope, and Faith live in the heart. The mind can say all it wants, with its Ego and its logic, but the heart is the captain of these seas.
We need to take certain things for granted to remain sane. We really do. I need to know my man loves me. That my brother will always be in my corner, that my friend will not forsake me if I make a stupid and monumentally mortifying mistake (okay, maybe that's never happened to you, but I tell you three times: it happens to me on a regular basis). That my mother (crazy old bat that she is, Gods Love her) will still love me even though I will never be like her, no matter how much she wills me to be.....That my government will not strip me of my rights and usurp them, or make unilateral and global decisions without my own small voice being heard.
And yet the closest people to us are the ones we 'take for granted' with the greatest lack of attention, the most egregious disregard; the most neglectful absence of attention. The arrogance and hubris exemplified in our behaviour to these very ones being put at the bottom of the list of priorities is staggering... and yet we take for granted that we will all cleave together when the fertilizer hits the rotating blades, and funnily enough, most often, we do. Moreover, the one and only person (besides,and even including our Creator) who is ALWAYS there, the Self, is the one we take most for granted, the one we abandon most easily....We all do it, some of the time.
But where is that line? When its not okay anymore.....
When the friend of a lifetime's long decades, who has found a new love, is 'too busy', or when the spouse has an important work project and needs to focus all attention on that, or when the parent is (probably with justification) involved in their own process of aging, or when we ourselves realize that not only are our most important ones at the bottom of 'the list' but we ourselves are not on that list at all! The Self gets lost utterly.
I take for granted that my family will be as dysfunctional as the next one, but that they will love me anyway; that my friend will assume I will be there when she's come out of her new love-fog (and dammit, nigh-on forty years trumps five minutes every time, thank you very goddamn much), and that my partner will know that I will be there, when he takes his head out of his navel (or arse... soon, I hope). I take these things for granted because the Love there is enduring. It is a constant, which sits at the hub of all that swirls around it. And I wonder that Love can, in fact, be constant. At all. Its a bloody miracle.
So I reckon that constancy in love is about trust, and Trust is a sister to Hope, both of which are a leap of Faith.
Tricky times in the world at large, these days. All I know is that people can and do love one another. That is, it really IS a constant. THERE IS LOVE BETWEEN PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD. I know this. We have hope that things will 'get better' and we have Faith, we leap into that blind place with Trust.
My mother told me that when I was two-ish, we were hanging out at a pool on a pretty sunny day. She said that she was chatting with some other mothers and all of a sudden she heard my voice call out to her. I was standing on the diving board, little and wee, with all the faith and trust in the world smiling out of my face. "Mama, catch!" I shouted as I jumped into the deep end. Well she scrambled like hell to get to me and you know what? I wasn't drowned. I was okay. I trusted and leaped. Trust... that 'blind leap of faith' is like that..... You just go for it, and when Love is there, you aren't drowned. Mum nearly shit her pants, of course, but I learned that someone would catch me if I jumped. I just wish I still had the faith of the innocent....These days I have to work at it. I have to really make a choice and trust with my WILL that I will be caught, when I jump.
I'm boycotting the consumer thing this season. For a change. Christmas is so stressful. I don't like it. It kills the 'Spirit' of the season for me. The real meaning of this time of year, which is really about the celebration of the return of Light to the land..... For me, the turning of the season, the OLD meaning, the Original meaning is all about renewal and reconnection. All across the World we see ancient cultures celebrating the 'festival of Light' in its various forms, with is myriad traditions. And that is a Joyful thing.
I'll do a tree, and that will be lovely. I'll make a family dinner ( I do a gorgeous bird if I do say so myself), I'll 'deck the halls' and decorate with ivy and cedar and holly, and the house will smell heavenly with it. 'Stuff', however, is so unnecessary. I don't want it. I dont want 'things'....For once, it is such a relief to say, "No, I dont want things..." I just want my people, great food and a happy time with a shared couple of bottles of wine and good conversation and togetherness.
I dont want STUFF.
I want Hope, and Faith, and I trust that people who can love WILL and SHALL love, and that with the coming of Solstice, the renewal of Light and renewal of Life, that Love, and Faith in humanity and its goodness, it's potential, shall prevail, and we will all trust enough to make a leap of Faith into a New Year, and have enough will to create a new vision for the future, where we CAN take for granted the vision that we hold in faith.Where we can take for granted that what is good and right will be created, by all of us, collectively. Because at the end of the day, as human beings, we are capable of love. We are capable of hope, of tolerance, of respect for differences and diversity, and in that there is the potential for anything we want. For all things good.
Humanity is still in it's adolescence. We are a very young species. We have a long way to go but we have the seeds of greatness and goodness in us. We can be beautiful.
I have faith in that. Call me naive. That's okay.
Because I think that if we have Love, we've got to have hope. And if we have hope we must have Faith. It doesnt matter what name that Faith has, so long as it informs us that something good is possible. That we can create, as a collective humanity, something good out of our belief in the possible. The possibility for an end to limitation; an end to judgment; an end to the subjugation of one for the other; an end to prejudice and bigotry (I so very much want that, believe in that possibility, that reality).....Possibilities can only exist if we believe they exist..... If we Intend them to exist... I can believe in that. I can really get behind that kind of belief. I am telling you right now that this is a real possibility that we can create.I know this is true.
I believe that we can be big. I have a lot of hope invested in us, as a species, that we can all be great.
I don't know if I can take that for granted, but I intend to take that leap of Faith.
Bird.
Later: I can have all the Trust I want (or try) but that isn't going to stop Teddy the Bear from busting out of the dog run and going on walk-about when he feels like it..... That little rat-bag. He's just very lucky he's so cute! And I'm very lucky he always comes back... eventually. :)
We take certain basic things for granted. The Sun will rise tomorrow. Air for breathing, for example. We assume that our hearts will still be beating the morning after the night before, when in trust we fall asleep.... into that profoundly vulnerable place; that place of utter defenselessness.
We assume things, and we must in order to feel safe. If we didn't, we'd go stark raving bonkers immediately. Everything would be dangerous, if not deadly.
So that covers the basics. Yes, we take those for granted. And then there are the other things, like food and shelter, which we in the privileged cultures also take for granted. Not that we don't work our arses off to maintain these things. The fundamentals. Paying rent. Utilities. Taxes. Putting food on table and keeping roof over head, not to mention making sure we have enough money to pay the vets bills. Etc, etc. Finding meaning in work is at an even higher lever and not all of us are so fortunate. But we try.
Still there are other more subtle things we take for granted in the realms of the heart and which have to do with with the intricate threads woven between people over time, who love one another. This is a more delicate thing. At a certain level, if we don't trust with that huge leap of faith that the other (friend, lover, parent) will be there no matter what, then we live in perpetual fear of abandonment. We need to know that we can fuck up and that we are forgivable. We need to know that we can make detours, and that when we come round our circle will receive us with loving welcome.
Faith is a leap of faith. And trust is about faith, I think. It isn't about an observation of events that weigh out with a pro or con. Trust is not that clinical. It is instinctual. Emotional. It isn't about experience that shows us that we are putting our hearts on the line foolishly. It is about faith. Trust is a fragile thing, and it is a choice, but it is also a very visceral thing which speaks from a deep place in the gut, 'evidence' to the contrary, notwithstanding. We hope that trust will bear out to be well-placed and we have faith in that. In our families. In our friendships. In our communities. In where we put our vote. Because trust and Hope, and Faith live in the heart. The mind can say all it wants, with its Ego and its logic, but the heart is the captain of these seas.
We need to take certain things for granted to remain sane. We really do. I need to know my man loves me. That my brother will always be in my corner, that my friend will not forsake me if I make a stupid and monumentally mortifying mistake (okay, maybe that's never happened to you, but I tell you three times: it happens to me on a regular basis). That my mother (crazy old bat that she is, Gods Love her) will still love me even though I will never be like her, no matter how much she wills me to be.....That my government will not strip me of my rights and usurp them, or make unilateral and global decisions without my own small voice being heard.
And yet the closest people to us are the ones we 'take for granted' with the greatest lack of attention, the most egregious disregard; the most neglectful absence of attention. The arrogance and hubris exemplified in our behaviour to these very ones being put at the bottom of the list of priorities is staggering... and yet we take for granted that we will all cleave together when the fertilizer hits the rotating blades, and funnily enough, most often, we do. Moreover, the one and only person (besides,and even including our Creator) who is ALWAYS there, the Self, is the one we take most for granted, the one we abandon most easily....We all do it, some of the time.
But where is that line? When its not okay anymore.....
When the friend of a lifetime's long decades, who has found a new love, is 'too busy', or when the spouse has an important work project and needs to focus all attention on that, or when the parent is (probably with justification) involved in their own process of aging, or when we ourselves realize that not only are our most important ones at the bottom of 'the list' but we ourselves are not on that list at all! The Self gets lost utterly.
I take for granted that my family will be as dysfunctional as the next one, but that they will love me anyway; that my friend will assume I will be there when she's come out of her new love-fog (and dammit, nigh-on forty years trumps five minutes every time, thank you very goddamn much), and that my partner will know that I will be there, when he takes his head out of his navel (or arse... soon, I hope). I take these things for granted because the Love there is enduring. It is a constant, which sits at the hub of all that swirls around it. And I wonder that Love can, in fact, be constant. At all. Its a bloody miracle.
So I reckon that constancy in love is about trust, and Trust is a sister to Hope, both of which are a leap of Faith.
Tricky times in the world at large, these days. All I know is that people can and do love one another. That is, it really IS a constant. THERE IS LOVE BETWEEN PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD. I know this. We have hope that things will 'get better' and we have Faith, we leap into that blind place with Trust.
My mother told me that when I was two-ish, we were hanging out at a pool on a pretty sunny day. She said that she was chatting with some other mothers and all of a sudden she heard my voice call out to her. I was standing on the diving board, little and wee, with all the faith and trust in the world smiling out of my face. "Mama, catch!" I shouted as I jumped into the deep end. Well she scrambled like hell to get to me and you know what? I wasn't drowned. I was okay. I trusted and leaped. Trust... that 'blind leap of faith' is like that..... You just go for it, and when Love is there, you aren't drowned. Mum nearly shit her pants, of course, but I learned that someone would catch me if I jumped. I just wish I still had the faith of the innocent....These days I have to work at it. I have to really make a choice and trust with my WILL that I will be caught, when I jump.
I'm boycotting the consumer thing this season. For a change. Christmas is so stressful. I don't like it. It kills the 'Spirit' of the season for me. The real meaning of this time of year, which is really about the celebration of the return of Light to the land..... For me, the turning of the season, the OLD meaning, the Original meaning is all about renewal and reconnection. All across the World we see ancient cultures celebrating the 'festival of Light' in its various forms, with is myriad traditions. And that is a Joyful thing.
I'll do a tree, and that will be lovely. I'll make a family dinner ( I do a gorgeous bird if I do say so myself), I'll 'deck the halls' and decorate with ivy and cedar and holly, and the house will smell heavenly with it. 'Stuff', however, is so unnecessary. I don't want it. I dont want 'things'....For once, it is such a relief to say, "No, I dont want things..." I just want my people, great food and a happy time with a shared couple of bottles of wine and good conversation and togetherness.
I dont want STUFF.
I want Hope, and Faith, and I trust that people who can love WILL and SHALL love, and that with the coming of Solstice, the renewal of Light and renewal of Life, that Love, and Faith in humanity and its goodness, it's potential, shall prevail, and we will all trust enough to make a leap of Faith into a New Year, and have enough will to create a new vision for the future, where we CAN take for granted the vision that we hold in faith.Where we can take for granted that what is good and right will be created, by all of us, collectively. Because at the end of the day, as human beings, we are capable of love. We are capable of hope, of tolerance, of respect for differences and diversity, and in that there is the potential for anything we want. For all things good.
Humanity is still in it's adolescence. We are a very young species. We have a long way to go but we have the seeds of greatness and goodness in us. We can be beautiful.
I have faith in that. Call me naive. That's okay.
Because I think that if we have Love, we've got to have hope. And if we have hope we must have Faith. It doesnt matter what name that Faith has, so long as it informs us that something good is possible. That we can create, as a collective humanity, something good out of our belief in the possible. The possibility for an end to limitation; an end to judgment; an end to the subjugation of one for the other; an end to prejudice and bigotry (I so very much want that, believe in that possibility, that reality).....Possibilities can only exist if we believe they exist..... If we Intend them to exist... I can believe in that. I can really get behind that kind of belief. I am telling you right now that this is a real possibility that we can create.I know this is true.
I believe that we can be big. I have a lot of hope invested in us, as a species, that we can all be great.
I don't know if I can take that for granted, but I intend to take that leap of Faith.
Bird.
Later: I can have all the Trust I want (or try) but that isn't going to stop Teddy the Bear from busting out of the dog run and going on walk-about when he feels like it..... That little rat-bag. He's just very lucky he's so cute! And I'm very lucky he always comes back... eventually. :)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
June blooms, Bitch blues....
Flowers come up, finally, reluctantly, and we have intermittent sun which bravely burns off the fog between days of drizzle. Morning glory sprogs and other seedlings, both fleurs for pleasure and veggies for the garden are valiant as they sprout in their sheltered pots. I worry for them. The big world out there is not what they expect because its too damned cold.....What is this!? It should be hot and dry by now. This is a hot zone. A 'mediterranean-type' climate. Apparently... but these days it is a climate, a world, even, that one can only respond to with... "Huh!?
At least my new attempt at making a lawn where there was a gravel pit, formerly used as a car park is valiantly bursting into a riot of cheerful clover. Forget grass seeds. Clover is the way to go. It is hardy. You can throw anything at it and it likes it and spreads, looking fabulous.
We are reclaiming the gravel and creating green. We are planting dry rock garden loving things which are thriving, despite the rain ... a good time for them to set their roots in preparation for the annually anticipated drought, which right now is a mere laughable memory. And the rain comes down. As it happens, these days, a lot. I'm not complaining about that as such, just the cold. The stupid ('Hello, it's JUNE now in case any one noticed) cold. I wore a scarf today. Retarded.
I hate my job at the moment. There will be no raises this year, (the bastards) although I have taken on a large chunk of responsibility the last months. And I am doing well, working way WAY too hard, and am killing myself for...what!? A company beholden to its shareholders and arbitrary numbers....
A life where I come home exhausted, bitchy and have nothing left to give to my house, which is a disaster; or to my man ( I cant remember the last time we got laid) ; nor even anything to give to the poor dogs. The idea of taking them out for a run, rather than being a pleasure, has become one more duty that renders me tired beyond words. ...with the weight of having one more thing on the proverbial 'list'. Just one more thing... When I come home I am literally stunned, Pole-axed into a state of zombieism with the bombshell of my day, and I am not in my body. Don't know where I am, but I am not here. The stress has 'body-snatched' me away.
I have this sense of urgency, this pressure coming at me: Just one more.....Just one more thing to do. The Control that the infamous 'agenda' has over me which I feel Powerless to deal with when am spent and senseless with being peopled-out and feel the symptoms of 'burn-out' creeping closer every day. The 'just one more thing' factor is sending me screaming to the hills and putting me into a state of obnoxious, defensive negativity, on the one hand, and almost a state of catatonia on the other, as I become paralysed in the face of its relentlessness, which I cant even describe. I succumb to the pressure and go into 'head-in-sand' mode. Very little can get me out of that place once I am entrenched in it.
Its not good. It is just NOT GOOD.
I had a meltdown and lost my temper (for which I am suitably remorseful and ashamed of, but I can live with that.....) on Friday, berating the Paint department head for not taking care of her own freight which I have been doing for 9 months. ( 9 months is the time it takes a human embryo to gestate, the time it takes for one thing to become another,the time it takes for one reality to manifest a miracle and become something else...)
I guess the annoyance built up on top of actual resentment over that time took its toll. One expects a beginning and a middle and an end to things.; and like a birthing event, in all of its realness and raw glory, It's pain and anxiety, excitement and happiness, worry and thrill, and all of its 'Here we GO, this is what's happening', there is no room or time for bullshit here. Believe me, the birthing of anything worthwhile be it a baby, or a house or a piece of art, or the choice to embrace a new life-style, a new way, has a big 'shut up dont get in my way, this is happening NOW, like NOW !' and has a big ' lets get on with it factor' . Moreover, you are either on board or you are not, and if not, fuck off and dont waste the time of those who have WORK to do to facilitate and participate in creation. Be here now and be real and be a contributor, or piss off.
I bided my time and held my piece and was supportive, i.e. doing work which belonged to someone else ... out of KINDNESS, you should know. I'm not feeling so kind now nearly a year later but I'm feeling consequent. And Also I ended up feeling really bitchy. I finally spoke my truth, and truth be told it came out kind of hard, having months of pressure behind it....... I Lost it. It wasn't pretty.
I have my own work to do thank you. Thank you very F*****G much. I offered subtle reminders. Gentle requests to come on board and be a team were met with ambivalence. Clear requests were met with "I'm busy" (Okay, thank you so very much for being in the moment and for being honest with where you are but frankly, that ain't getting the job done. ) You're 'busy'. Right....HUH. Like that is special. Like that is something only you have a relationship with.
EEEEuuwgh!
The job everyone and their dog are doing FOR you which you should in fact be doing because,Hello, it is YOUR FUCKING JOB is not something your co-workers are inclined to do anymore. Never mind the broken leg, or the cataract surgery, or the bad back (its always something isn't it?) Never mind the relationship issues, Sympathy has poured like honey all over you and support has surrounded you for ages, Its enough already. You've milked it and the goodwill has run OUT . You say you are are busy. Yegads, its one of the busiest retail establishments on the island, if not the country being 100 years old and going strong because people CARE! If you don't, then Piss off and go away!
WE, whoop-dee-la-dee-fucking -da!!. We, your colleagues and co-workers have been ( believe it or not) very supportive of you and your issues and meanwhile, we have not BEEN sitting around with our thumbs up our arses for the very delightful thrill of it, we are busy too. We are all busting a gut with being BUSY whist you shirk and delegate, ignore and file your bloody nails, and that doesnt cut it, you RANCID COW!!:)
Directives from managers were repeatedly ignored and then I just snapped.
I don't need this shite. Working for a pittance with a stress level and a responsibility level that is frankly leveling me flat!
I need to be making money, which I am not. B REALLY wants me to help with his business which he is willing to PAY for (more that my shite hourly retail rate) and they don't want to let me cut my hours so I can do this!
I cant rant about it anymore or this will just degenerate into gutter cursing and hysteria.
Things things end are a bit intense and I could do with a few supportive thoughts and encouragement coming my way.
Retail is the Devil. Or one of them.
Meanwhile, to ad insult to injury, the weather sucks. Its cold and wet and Solstice approaches, when days will get shorter, and we haven't had a Spring, or even a taste of Summer so far.
Dolly, once again,has gone on walk about or something and has been missing for days.
Again.
I have an appointment with an ear nose and throat specialist on Thursday to figure out my sinus issue and to determine if my deviated septum will result in a holly-wood nose. Wish me luck. And:
Give me strength.
Bird. xoxox
At least my new attempt at making a lawn where there was a gravel pit, formerly used as a car park is valiantly bursting into a riot of cheerful clover. Forget grass seeds. Clover is the way to go. It is hardy. You can throw anything at it and it likes it and spreads, looking fabulous.
We are reclaiming the gravel and creating green. We are planting dry rock garden loving things which are thriving, despite the rain ... a good time for them to set their roots in preparation for the annually anticipated drought, which right now is a mere laughable memory. And the rain comes down. As it happens, these days, a lot. I'm not complaining about that as such, just the cold. The stupid ('Hello, it's JUNE now in case any one noticed) cold. I wore a scarf today. Retarded.
I hate my job at the moment. There will be no raises this year, (the bastards) although I have taken on a large chunk of responsibility the last months. And I am doing well, working way WAY too hard, and am killing myself for...what!? A company beholden to its shareholders and arbitrary numbers....
A life where I come home exhausted, bitchy and have nothing left to give to my house, which is a disaster; or to my man ( I cant remember the last time we got laid) ; nor even anything to give to the poor dogs. The idea of taking them out for a run, rather than being a pleasure, has become one more duty that renders me tired beyond words. ...with the weight of having one more thing on the proverbial 'list'. Just one more thing... When I come home I am literally stunned, Pole-axed into a state of zombieism with the bombshell of my day, and I am not in my body. Don't know where I am, but I am not here. The stress has 'body-snatched' me away.
I have this sense of urgency, this pressure coming at me: Just one more.....Just one more thing to do. The Control that the infamous 'agenda' has over me which I feel Powerless to deal with when am spent and senseless with being peopled-out and feel the symptoms of 'burn-out' creeping closer every day. The 'just one more thing' factor is sending me screaming to the hills and putting me into a state of obnoxious, defensive negativity, on the one hand, and almost a state of catatonia on the other, as I become paralysed in the face of its relentlessness, which I cant even describe. I succumb to the pressure and go into 'head-in-sand' mode. Very little can get me out of that place once I am entrenched in it.
Its not good. It is just NOT GOOD.
I had a meltdown and lost my temper (for which I am suitably remorseful and ashamed of, but I can live with that.....) on Friday, berating the Paint department head for not taking care of her own freight which I have been doing for 9 months. ( 9 months is the time it takes a human embryo to gestate, the time it takes for one thing to become another,the time it takes for one reality to manifest a miracle and become something else...)
I guess the annoyance built up on top of actual resentment over that time took its toll. One expects a beginning and a middle and an end to things.; and like a birthing event, in all of its realness and raw glory, It's pain and anxiety, excitement and happiness, worry and thrill, and all of its 'Here we GO, this is what's happening', there is no room or time for bullshit here. Believe me, the birthing of anything worthwhile be it a baby, or a house or a piece of art, or the choice to embrace a new life-style, a new way, has a big 'shut up dont get in my way, this is happening NOW, like NOW !' and has a big ' lets get on with it factor' . Moreover, you are either on board or you are not, and if not, fuck off and dont waste the time of those who have WORK to do to facilitate and participate in creation. Be here now and be real and be a contributor, or piss off.
I bided my time and held my piece and was supportive, i.e. doing work which belonged to someone else ... out of KINDNESS, you should know. I'm not feeling so kind now nearly a year later but I'm feeling consequent. And Also I ended up feeling really bitchy. I finally spoke my truth, and truth be told it came out kind of hard, having months of pressure behind it....... I Lost it. It wasn't pretty.
I have my own work to do thank you. Thank you very F*****G much. I offered subtle reminders. Gentle requests to come on board and be a team were met with ambivalence. Clear requests were met with "I'm busy" (Okay, thank you so very much for being in the moment and for being honest with where you are but frankly, that ain't getting the job done. ) You're 'busy'. Right....HUH. Like that is special. Like that is something only you have a relationship with.
EEEEuuwgh!
The job everyone and their dog are doing FOR you which you should in fact be doing because,Hello, it is YOUR FUCKING JOB is not something your co-workers are inclined to do anymore. Never mind the broken leg, or the cataract surgery, or the bad back (its always something isn't it?) Never mind the relationship issues, Sympathy has poured like honey all over you and support has surrounded you for ages, Its enough already. You've milked it and the goodwill has run OUT . You say you are are busy. Yegads, its one of the busiest retail establishments on the island, if not the country being 100 years old and going strong because people CARE! If you don't, then Piss off and go away!
WE, whoop-dee-la-dee-fucking -da!!. We, your colleagues and co-workers have been ( believe it or not) very supportive of you and your issues and meanwhile, we have not BEEN sitting around with our thumbs up our arses for the very delightful thrill of it, we are busy too. We are all busting a gut with being BUSY whist you shirk and delegate, ignore and file your bloody nails, and that doesnt cut it, you RANCID COW!!:)
Directives from managers were repeatedly ignored and then I just snapped.
I don't need this shite. Working for a pittance with a stress level and a responsibility level that is frankly leveling me flat!
I need to be making money, which I am not. B REALLY wants me to help with his business which he is willing to PAY for (more that my shite hourly retail rate) and they don't want to let me cut my hours so I can do this!
I cant rant about it anymore or this will just degenerate into gutter cursing and hysteria.
Things things end are a bit intense and I could do with a few supportive thoughts and encouragement coming my way.
Retail is the Devil. Or one of them.
Meanwhile, to ad insult to injury, the weather sucks. Its cold and wet and Solstice approaches, when days will get shorter, and we haven't had a Spring, or even a taste of Summer so far.
Dolly, once again,has gone on walk about or something and has been missing for days.
Again.
I have an appointment with an ear nose and throat specialist on Thursday to figure out my sinus issue and to determine if my deviated septum will result in a holly-wood nose. Wish me luck. And:
Give me strength.
Bird. xoxox
Friday, May 23, 2008
Oh Baby! :)
Lola May, 8lbs 5 ounces, Born May 19th, 2008.
My best friend's daughter has given birth to a brand new human being called Lola May. She is gorgeous ( the baby)... and also I mean, it should be said, that she comes from a long line of gorgeous so she comes by it honestly. Paternally, her father is a sweet, gorgeous, sincere and loving young man, and that's all I know about that side of her heritage, but her mother is gorgeous, and her Grandmama is absolutely gorgeous. Also, it should be said that her Great-Grandmama has been famous all along for being a great beauty, as was her mother before her, and they are all, all of them, more and MOST importantly very beautiful inside and out. Which is really what makes them utterly gorgeous. (Okay, I may be biased. But I'm still right.) I'm blown away to think that I have known them all...... From great-great grandmama on down.
SO I'm a proud great Goddess mother. And I'll say it out loud:
THIS IS THE MOST LOVELY AND BONNY BABY THAT EVER WAS BORN!
You should know that my best friend is really my sister, although we share no genetic connection except thorough mutual Teutonic ancestry. But she's been the only sister I've known (and best sister I could have hoped for) since age 5 . That's 38 years and going strong, and she is the sister of my heart and soul. She is my place of safety and of comfort. I dont know what I'd do without her. She's been there with me virtually all of my life. She is the one who knows me like no one else. She and I share a connection that is deeper than either of us can put into words and stronger than any relationship I have ever known. We have fought, and kissed and made up like all siblings. We are excellent at debate, loose patience with one another, make huge room for each other to be 'Us' warts and all, and are sometimes controlling with one another whilst simultaneously making loving, supportive space for each other to be real and honest in the moment, and beyond. We 'see' one another's process whilst we cant see our own even when that process is in parallel, which is usually. We KNOW one another like we know the backs of our own hands. And that is rare and special. I would lay my life down for her. Or for Emma. And now also for Lola May.
Andreya's mother is my other mother and I address her as Mama as often as I address her by name. These days we are not always in touch but when we are we pick up with an 'as I was saying' kind of thing which only happens with very old and real friends. She raised me as much, and sometimes, it must be said, better and with more kindness, appropriate discipline, attention to sharing knowledge, genuine respect and wisdom than my own mother did. She knew me better than my own mother did. That was always true.....She always loved me as one of her own Babies and I always felt that. (What a gift!) I knew that deeply and without censure and she, my other mama, as a result of the nature of her real loving of me, is one of the pillars I stand on, and is therefore, hugely responsible (for all of the good bits) for the woman I am today.
They are family. They are more family to me than the cousins and aunts I have by genetic connection and who I know hardly and care even less about. They, my circle, this collection of female energies and loving women, are closer to me sometimes than my own brother who shared the same womb with me (not at the same time), and whom I also love very very dearly, but who is still more of a stranger to me than this heritage and lineage of women I am blessed to be connected to.
Sometimes one's family, sometimes, and in fact more often than not, one's real family are not related to us through blood. But through the heart. Through the experience of life and through the heart. We learn to love and discover, much more importantly, that we can BE loved by people unlooked-for, who simply show up out of the blue and just love us... because. They see something in us no one else does. They 'see' us. Really 'see' us. They fall in love with us. Even though we've sometimes been taught by our own family dynamics that we are not lovable as we are, not lovable unless we conform to the conditions and requirements they set on us. Unconditional family love is such a crock, isn't it?
These people we are guided to, or they to us, and who through serendipity, mystery and so-called 'coincidence' (which I dont believe in for one nano-second, and never have) or other means, come into our lives, and they teach us that we ARE in fact lovable, believe it or not, which is sometimes if not always an astonishing realization. We are lovable. We are LOVABLE!!! Often and even usually, it takes others outside our blood-family to allow us to learn that. To remind us of that. To give us that gift. But this experience of discovering that we can be loved, teaches us like no other experience, that we CAN LOVE in return. That we have the capacity to love more than we ever knew...... We can love ourselves and others. And that's the point, I think.
We stumble upon friendships which allow us to unfold and become the person we always wanted to be but which our blood-families never allowed us to grow into, because of their own historical/cultural and personal paths and constraints. We are given love and helpers along the way. LIFE gives us these gifts because it knows we need to grow into love in a way that the lessons of our families are lessons that we need deal with and then GROW OUT OF. And then move beyond. And so we are blessed to find kindness unlooked-for and understanding and wisdom in friendships that come into our lives at the exact moment, in the exact way we need them. A Blessing. Some are temporary. Sparking and acting as a catalyst. Some are around for a time and they serve their purpose, as one does likewise for them in mutual growth. Others, the most special ones, we are gifted to have for a lifetime.....This is a great treasure and a gift. These are companions through life, along the path of the 'big picture' and they become those who 'knew us when', and can give and receive more than any one else. I have a few old friends. From grade school. Real friends. I'm lucky to have people who 'knew me when' who let me be who I am now, and they've loved me through that process of becoming. I have one bestest friend who knew me when, and knows me now better than any. I am very lucky that my heart-family is quite big. I am really very very blessed. Andreya is the first and last among them.
There is a term of endearment I learned from a great series of books, and that term is this: Annama Charra. A Gaelic term which describes a friendship of the heart which comes along once in a lifetime. And so I am blessed to know and live what that means in reality.
But I digress....
When we were still children, Andy and her family moved back and forth from England to Canada several times and though both our families were relatively poor, our mutual parents kept our friendship alive, supported and encouraged by love, and by finding the means, somehow, though scrimping and saving (and in the 70's airfare was a very, very big deal, and so was a wee tiny mite traveling across the universe on her own!) to make sure we saw one another and spent time together every year or so. They knew we needed one another and they supported us. I will always honour and be eternally grateful to them for that. I went to England, she, my Andy came to Canada. And then they moved, finally and for good, to England when we were both 16. Neither one of us has ever really fully recovered from that ultimate separation.
We've gone on, had lives (big full and busy) but being apart has always gutted us. And yet, in our amazing relationship, we've kept up an extraordinary and very unique correspondence and connection. In cyberspace now we meet every few days. Before that, we spent a few weeks or a month filling up a school-book of lined paper with daily journals which we sent to one another. For years! We have literally thought of each other almost every single day of our lives since we've known one another. She's my sister. What else can I say?
I visited my 'sister' Andy, in England, when I was 7 - thanks to both our parent's scrimping and saving as aforementioned..... sent to spend a glorious few summer weeks with my friend who had moved back to the UK. And I still remember walking the sea wall with her grandparents. I still remember that house in Colchester, remember playing in the fields and the smell of burnt hay as the fields were turned over, burned and prepared for the next season's crop. A smell which evokes those summer days and probably will for the rest of my life....( Kate Bush sings evocatively of this fragrance and feeling in one of her songs.... "The smell of burning fields, will now mean you and here"....) I remember the both of us tramping through the long dry grasses, taking our tops off and laying bare (and very flat) chested on top of the gargantuan hay bales, soaking up the sun, to suddenly notice some boys coming our way and we scrambled to find our shirts which we lost in the hay. We found them JUST in time! I remember choking with laughter and spewing muesli all over the table out of my full mouth, triggered by something silly and probably unremarkable to an adult, as the three of us, me, Andy and her little brother dissolved in fits of giggles over nothing as only little children can do; we scrambled to clean up the mess before A's parents came in from the garden and managed to do it just in time but erupted in hysterical gales of laughter anyway when they came back into the house. "What's going on here?" The smiling inquiry was met with the typical "Oh nothing" reply which only made us laugh the more (try not-laughing when you've just spewed muesli all over the dining room table and you dont want the adults to know). It all underscores the fact that children have their own world and will always know when an an adult cant possibly understand. We took riding lessons and my love of horses was confirmed. Little Mikey impressed me by holding bumble bees in his bare hands, gentle things, and I still remember seeing my first Ghost in that house too... but that's another story for another blog.
So....back and forth we went and finally at 16 she moves to England, I get on with my own horrible and lamentable adolescence ( they are all horrible arent they? Its a rotten time of life. Adolescence and adolescents, just nasty, all of it.) Meanwhile....Years go by. She got married and had a beautiful baby girl named Emma, got divorced (no fault of hers), and I went through a few relationships, a couple of miscarriages, a marriage -which much later failed- and finally, finally, we met again when Emma was about to have a milestone moment... ten years later.....I made another big leap across the pond to England.
The transition from baby to 'little girl' at the age of 'about-to-turn-three' is very special and hugely important. I hadnt seen Andreya in 10 years. I brought a quilt with me that I had designed and made for her daughter. It was quite stunning .... and I worked on it for many months with so much love and care. It had the phases of the moon appliqueèd (wrong accent but I cant figure out the right one) in a circle around the centre. Then in the next layer outwards, it had horses and flowers appliqeèd too. And stars quilted all over. Lots of pink! Once I get a handle on how to work my scanner I'll post a picture of it. It was all hand stitched. All of it. And it is still, apparently, to this day, very beautiful and in good condition. Almost 17 years later. I made it for my little Em who was so, so very wee at the time. Three years old. Now she's a new mama.....
So for her 3rd birthday, we, Andreya and I, made Em a Lion cake (she, Miss wee Emma, being a fairly large Leo for such a small person, and she still is). We put lots of Smarties on it and I, wanting to get her some pink flowers to wake up to and to decorate her birthday table (Em was then and still is mad about pink!) went for a short walk to look for some. Shops were flowerless . On my way back, leaned over a small wall and grabbed a few pink fleurs from a nearby scraggly yard when no one was looking... (Very bad behaviour, just plain very very bad.) But I thought, 'Just one or two blossoms that no one will miss'......As it happened, they ALL came up with the roots and to my horror, as I looked about to see if anyone had seen my theft, I realized that I had taken them from the local church yard! So Em had stolen pink church flowers, many presents wrapped in pink, and her Lion cake too. Yegads.
Andy and I were both raised Catholic, but with a twist (or an open mind) and neither one of us took to the religion fully. Our parents were products of the 60's. Mine were health yoga freaks, steeped in the nouveau-psychotherapy of the times and natural medicine. Hers were more traditional yet open minded and both of our parents raised us to be likewise.
We are both Pagans at heart and heathens, and witches, in our own way. I wa
Lola May is here and she's utterly beautiful.
I feel very very humble. I am leaving the maiden, mother phase and entering the crone era of my life.
I am a great Goddess-mother.
I'm so grateful for the health of my girls, and for the brave birthing journey they have traveled with such strength and Grace. And for the support they have received from everyone. Em's partner did her proud. He's a good young man and he did beautifully, did everything right. And their love is a shining, glorious thing, a beautiful and real gem. Andreya was with them and helped Lola be born. She tells me that Emma di
Huh. My Bella, my bestest friend is a granny! Wow.
!
Thank you Goddess/ God/ Great Creator for all the gifts we have and for this new Soul who is so very much loved!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Now What?
I've been thinking of the recent horrific tragedy in Burma.
It is terrible. I feel helpless. I feel gutted......Not since the Tsunami have I felt so strongly that my heart has been wrenched and battered by the loss of human life...... Not since then have I felt so useless to make a difference . I dont know what to do. So typically, I turn inward and reflective (otherwise known as self absorbed)....
I'm sitting in my little office with the huge long window, as the sun dips below the trees and the shadows get long, while a few children play below in the yard of my downstairs neighbour who is hosting a pot luck dinner. I'm invited. I'm not going though because I am so 'peopled out' by my own job. I love my neighbour. I've known her since I began visiting the Island, before I moved here, and she is the closest friend I have here. Raised in Toronto, from Jamaica originally, she gives me the ethnic juice I need and miss, which is so lacking in this 'white-bread' place.....We have a lot in common. She is lovely and wonderful with an enchanting daughter, whom I love to pieces and would lay my life down for, and who is about to have her 9th birthday. She understands that there is enough on my plate, and doesnt begrudge me that I dont want to spend time with anyone but my own space right now - my time is precious, and B and my animals (all 8 of them... 4 dogs and 4 cats) have been feeling the lack of my attention. I'VE been feeling the lack of my attention . But its nice to hear music and the laughter of children near by. I can live that vicariously for the moment even, and especially, if that moment is in the background. And that's where it needs to be. So I can be glad of a gentle space in which I can rest without any agenda other than writing, and later, maybe flopping out on the couch in front of the tv, or just going, dead tired, to bed. I've been so exhausted lately that I just fall down and sleep like a stone.
At my regular gig, at the 'Home Hardware' store, which is actually a one hundred year old, real and actual old fashioned general store, like in the old days and quite famous for it (we sell everything, and I love it there) life is busy. I've gone from department to department, learning all the different things that make each department tick, ending up (returning to) the paint till for the last 8 months, where I am equipped to help and advise with paint and tiling questions. And whatnot. Having had some experience (huh!) in the last 20 years in commercial painting, tiling and whatnot, not to mention landscaping and horticulture, art conservation, art gallery curating, and custom framing; general construction, stained glass(for 20 years and teaching thereof as well as mosaics) and etcetera. We are all Jacks, or Jaqcuelines of all trades in the adventure of trying to make a living on tis Island. My story is hardly unique. .
At my regular job, I've done something a little bit daring, which is to take on , by choice and unasked for, the responsibility of sorting out 1/2 of the main floor, which includes camping, toys, laundry, storage, paint etc, etc., and now I'm building a crafts and art department. And that's a good thing! I have the support of my managers for it, and they've been really great. Somehow, I got fed up with standing around with my thumb up my arse and decided to DO something, so I just took charge and claimed the space. My managers have been lovely, really supportive. I'm grateful to them for that. They are awesome people.
I make lists of what sells and what doesnt, what we need and what should go in the garbage. I tell them what people are asking for and what we should offer. They seem to appreciate that. I've put a lot into it and its drained me. Its taken the guts out of me..... Because I've given more than I've got back; the pay is shite. Really shamefully SHITE. The benefits are pretty good but benefits dont pay the mortgage, you know?
I do all the window displays, with furniture or whatever is being featured, and turn them into big fantasy stage sets. Currently we have 'dinner in the gazebo' with a wicker wonderland table setting, and mosquito nets, about six of them draping down elegantly, with green jungle foliage strategically placed; green and black patio table ware, delicious and utterly bohemian black and gold elephant candle sticks with lime green candles. Floral Spring things with a splash of daring red. Very yummy. Its a part of the job that I like a lot. The drama queen in me gets free rein. But it hardly pays.
I deserve more.
I DESERVE MORE !!!
Yes I do.
Last Christmas I/ we won the 'most creative window' display. It was a bathroom display..... a collaborative effort in truth, and my managers and I had a lot of fun with it. It must be said that I was merely the 'cake decorator'. But I put a bit into the general concept which the three of us concocted. ( Did I mention this already?) We had a small tree and the usual Christmas decorations and green and red going on. I sculpted a Santa head and feet with plasticine... we put a beard and hat on him, and spectacles, filled the bathtub in which he was lounging after his long Christmas working night with big bubble wrap to indicate bubbles, flung the Santa suit and boots on the floor (and left the toilet seat up!) whilst a martini glass rested, dangerously tilted, in his hands. ..... and got a picture of the display (and me, I was horrified to have to pose) in the local paper.
The nose was beautiful... Just a tiny bit Cherubic and yet Patrician at the same time. Almost Aquiline, but friendly enough to be, well.... friendly. Like you'd assume Santa's nose would be! And the feet were life like, and the toes peeked out endearingly through the 'bubbles of the bath' complete with toe nails carves into the plasticine....It was great for a number of weeks.....until the plasticine dried out and the toes began to fall apart and Santa, it must be said, developed a serious case of leprosy!
Huh.
Meanwhile, back to the here and now, after the long slog: Rest. This is much needed. Its been a long haul. I've been pushing too hard for a long time and have been very ill quite a lot of the past winter as a result of my pushing. I had to go to the hospital at one point for oxygen and an anti-inflammatory/ bronchial dilator/ inhalation. (Two rounds of antibiotics which I dont believe in and loathe. and seriously dont recommend.) It was scary. I couldn't breathe. My lungs went into spasm. Yuk. I thought I was going to die. I'm still coughing.
The dreaded flu which goes and comes back, to go and come back again, and yet again... According to the local Hospital, it's been the worst out-break in 9 years. I think I got every bug in triplicate that was going around.
Not good.
Partly, it has transpired, the deviated septum and past multiple breaks in my nose: Horse back riding... jumps refused, nose meets neck of horse... volley ball meets face, Brick wall meets face, dog doesnt want her claws cut today and throws back her bony head into my schnoggin, I.e Dog head meets face.....etc. might be contributing to the sinus issue, because they arent draining properly. It turns out, after having an ex-ray, that apparently I have some weirdness happening and I have an appointment with an ear nose and throat specialist the first week of June. If I get a 'Hollywood nose' out of the situation.... I wont be sorry:)
I have some time off right now, a week, during which I am doing a small but plumb job of faux finish painting for some long standing and special clients.
A 'working holiday' which could suck, but its actually fun, creative and satisfying and wont take up all of my time off and is a good thing in terms of income when retail drudgery becomes a hopelessness in the face of relentlessness. ( It wont sustain you no matter how much you give.... I tell you three times)
I'll have some time to focus on the things that have been allowed to slide badly, like everything single thing in the house, and some garden time too. I've started my first seeds but have a load still to plant.
Stained glass is leaving me cold and I am itching to get back to my first love which as you know is painting. The studio and I are making friends very slowly.... all things come in their own good time.
B and I are doing well with a few hiccups along the way and a few stark realities that need to be addressed. Its called growing up, I think. We were planning to get married this summer, but I panicked, realizing that I want a number of things to be sorted before I take that plunge again. I dont want to make the same mistakes I made last time.... and have to look at what I perpetuate in terms of negative patterns. ( I waffle. One day I think marriage is a good idea, the next day I think, "I've been there and done that, why do it again? It isnt like we are going to have children'.... ) And then I think of my own reticence when it comes to commitment and intimacy. My walls are big, my attachment to distractions take away from being HERE NOW ...and feel that I need to move through that barrier...... Some days it looks like it should become one thing, and other days it looks like something else. Its all about the process of becoming, isnt it? Becoming a grounded and balanced adult human being. Gods that sounds so serious! And it is such hard work. Cant I just coast along, please and not look at the big stuff?! Cant I go along with your idea and and rely on you to 'take care of things'? Puh-leeze? YOU do it! For me.. OKay ?
Huh. NO .
OBVIOUSLY NOT. ( Grow UP Christie). We have to work at it. (Ugh, work yeughch!) The stuff of life that determines direction, and ultimately, outcome?! We have to make it happen. That requires work. PUTTING OUR SHOULDERS TO THE WHEEL AND FIGURING OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A HUMAN BEING WITH GOALS.....Ugh! YUK. It sounds so disciplined, so European, so militant.... I'm not ready to be a formal and dogmatic adult. With rules and a regimental schedule for life.... (Gag me! ...find me a bridge to leap off of!)
I'm so immature.
Anyway....Next summer is soon enough to be all grown up. I want the foundation we lay to be very solid and clean. Not that things havent been solid ( everyone has their ups and downs and we've had some life-in-general factors which have come at us fast and hard the last few years) , but I want us to be more organized as a couple... be more of a couple which is something I've never learned. I've never had a joint bank account with a partner, for example, or had a house-hold budget or a plan for savings. These are things that need to happen so we can be more of a team and I know we will manage to learn them. I have a lot of faith in us, and so does B. I'm lucky. We are lucky. It isnt everyone who gets a second chance at a genuine and deep love. Twice in a lifetime. I've got that and I feel very blessed. B is a good man. He's amazing. We are both lucky to have one another. And we both know it.
I am/ we are busy with the process of becoming. Trying to be more conscious of the process.
Knowing that is enough.
It is terrible. I feel helpless. I feel gutted......Not since the Tsunami have I felt so strongly that my heart has been wrenched and battered by the loss of human life...... Not since then have I felt so useless to make a difference . I dont know what to do. So typically, I turn inward and reflective (otherwise known as self absorbed)....
I'm sitting in my little office with the huge long window, as the sun dips below the trees and the shadows get long, while a few children play below in the yard of my downstairs neighbour who is hosting a pot luck dinner. I'm invited. I'm not going though because I am so 'peopled out' by my own job. I love my neighbour. I've known her since I began visiting the Island, before I moved here, and she is the closest friend I have here. Raised in Toronto, from Jamaica originally, she gives me the ethnic juice I need and miss, which is so lacking in this 'white-bread' place.....We have a lot in common. She is lovely and wonderful with an enchanting daughter, whom I love to pieces and would lay my life down for, and who is about to have her 9th birthday. She understands that there is enough on my plate, and doesnt begrudge me that I dont want to spend time with anyone but my own space right now - my time is precious, and B and my animals (all 8 of them... 4 dogs and 4 cats) have been feeling the lack of my attention. I'VE been feeling the lack of my attention . But its nice to hear music and the laughter of children near by. I can live that vicariously for the moment even, and especially, if that moment is in the background. And that's where it needs to be. So I can be glad of a gentle space in which I can rest without any agenda other than writing, and later, maybe flopping out on the couch in front of the tv, or just going, dead tired, to bed. I've been so exhausted lately that I just fall down and sleep like a stone.
At my regular gig, at the 'Home Hardware' store, which is actually a one hundred year old, real and actual old fashioned general store, like in the old days and quite famous for it (we sell everything, and I love it there) life is busy. I've gone from department to department, learning all the different things that make each department tick, ending up (returning to) the paint till for the last 8 months, where I am equipped to help and advise with paint and tiling questions. And whatnot. Having had some experience (huh!) in the last 20 years in commercial painting, tiling and whatnot, not to mention landscaping and horticulture, art conservation, art gallery curating, and custom framing; general construction, stained glass(for 20 years and teaching thereof as well as mosaics) and etcetera. We are all Jacks, or Jaqcuelines of all trades in the adventure of trying to make a living on tis Island. My story is hardly unique. .
At my regular job, I've done something a little bit daring, which is to take on , by choice and unasked for, the responsibility of sorting out 1/2 of the main floor, which includes camping, toys, laundry, storage, paint etc, etc., and now I'm building a crafts and art department. And that's a good thing! I have the support of my managers for it, and they've been really great. Somehow, I got fed up with standing around with my thumb up my arse and decided to DO something, so I just took charge and claimed the space. My managers have been lovely, really supportive. I'm grateful to them for that. They are awesome people.
I make lists of what sells and what doesnt, what we need and what should go in the garbage. I tell them what people are asking for and what we should offer. They seem to appreciate that. I've put a lot into it and its drained me. Its taken the guts out of me..... Because I've given more than I've got back; the pay is shite. Really shamefully SHITE. The benefits are pretty good but benefits dont pay the mortgage, you know?
I do all the window displays, with furniture or whatever is being featured, and turn them into big fantasy stage sets. Currently we have 'dinner in the gazebo' with a wicker wonderland table setting, and mosquito nets, about six of them draping down elegantly, with green jungle foliage strategically placed; green and black patio table ware, delicious and utterly bohemian black and gold elephant candle sticks with lime green candles. Floral Spring things with a splash of daring red. Very yummy. Its a part of the job that I like a lot. The drama queen in me gets free rein. But it hardly pays.
I deserve more.
I DESERVE MORE !!!
Yes I do.
Last Christmas I/ we won the 'most creative window' display. It was a bathroom display..... a collaborative effort in truth, and my managers and I had a lot of fun with it. It must be said that I was merely the 'cake decorator'. But I put a bit into the general concept which the three of us concocted. ( Did I mention this already?) We had a small tree and the usual Christmas decorations and green and red going on. I sculpted a Santa head and feet with plasticine... we put a beard and hat on him, and spectacles, filled the bathtub in which he was lounging after his long Christmas working night with big bubble wrap to indicate bubbles, flung the Santa suit and boots on the floor (and left the toilet seat up!) whilst a martini glass rested, dangerously tilted, in his hands. ..... and got a picture of the display (and me, I was horrified to have to pose) in the local paper.
The nose was beautiful... Just a tiny bit Cherubic and yet Patrician at the same time. Almost Aquiline, but friendly enough to be, well.... friendly. Like you'd assume Santa's nose would be! And the feet were life like, and the toes peeked out endearingly through the 'bubbles of the bath' complete with toe nails carves into the plasticine....It was great for a number of weeks.....until the plasticine dried out and the toes began to fall apart and Santa, it must be said, developed a serious case of leprosy!
Huh.
Meanwhile, back to the here and now, after the long slog: Rest. This is much needed. Its been a long haul. I've been pushing too hard for a long time and have been very ill quite a lot of the past winter as a result of my pushing. I had to go to the hospital at one point for oxygen and an anti-inflammatory/ bronchial dilator/ inhalation. (Two rounds of antibiotics which I dont believe in and loathe. and seriously dont recommend.) It was scary. I couldn't breathe. My lungs went into spasm. Yuk. I thought I was going to die. I'm still coughing.
The dreaded flu which goes and comes back, to go and come back again, and yet again... According to the local Hospital, it's been the worst out-break in 9 years. I think I got every bug in triplicate that was going around.
Not good.
Partly, it has transpired, the deviated septum and past multiple breaks in my nose: Horse back riding... jumps refused, nose meets neck of horse... volley ball meets face, Brick wall meets face, dog doesnt want her claws cut today and throws back her bony head into my schnoggin, I.e Dog head meets face.....etc. might be contributing to the sinus issue, because they arent draining properly. It turns out, after having an ex-ray, that apparently I have some weirdness happening and I have an appointment with an ear nose and throat specialist the first week of June. If I get a 'Hollywood nose' out of the situation.... I wont be sorry:)
I have some time off right now, a week, during which I am doing a small but plumb job of faux finish painting for some long standing and special clients.
A 'working holiday' which could suck, but its actually fun, creative and satisfying and wont take up all of my time off and is a good thing in terms of income when retail drudgery becomes a hopelessness in the face of relentlessness. ( It wont sustain you no matter how much you give.... I tell you three times)
I'll have some time to focus on the things that have been allowed to slide badly, like everything single thing in the house, and some garden time too. I've started my first seeds but have a load still to plant.
Stained glass is leaving me cold and I am itching to get back to my first love which as you know is painting. The studio and I are making friends very slowly.... all things come in their own good time.
B and I are doing well with a few hiccups along the way and a few stark realities that need to be addressed. Its called growing up, I think. We were planning to get married this summer, but I panicked, realizing that I want a number of things to be sorted before I take that plunge again. I dont want to make the same mistakes I made last time.... and have to look at what I perpetuate in terms of negative patterns. ( I waffle. One day I think marriage is a good idea, the next day I think, "I've been there and done that, why do it again? It isnt like we are going to have children'.... ) And then I think of my own reticence when it comes to commitment and intimacy. My walls are big, my attachment to distractions take away from being HERE NOW ...and feel that I need to move through that barrier...... Some days it looks like it should become one thing, and other days it looks like something else. Its all about the process of becoming, isnt it? Becoming a grounded and balanced adult human being. Gods that sounds so serious! And it is such hard work. Cant I just coast along, please and not look at the big stuff?! Cant I go along with your idea and and rely on you to 'take care of things'? Puh-leeze? YOU do it! For me.. OKay ?
Huh. NO .
OBVIOUSLY NOT. ( Grow UP Christie). We have to work at it. (Ugh, work yeughch!) The stuff of life that determines direction, and ultimately, outcome?! We have to make it happen. That requires work. PUTTING OUR SHOULDERS TO THE WHEEL AND FIGURING OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A HUMAN BEING WITH GOALS.....Ugh! YUK. It sounds so disciplined, so European, so militant.... I'm not ready to be a formal and dogmatic adult. With rules and a regimental schedule for life.... (Gag me! ...find me a bridge to leap off of!)
I'm so immature.
Anyway....Next summer is soon enough to be all grown up. I want the foundation we lay to be very solid and clean. Not that things havent been solid ( everyone has their ups and downs and we've had some life-in-general factors which have come at us fast and hard the last few years) , but I want us to be more organized as a couple... be more of a couple which is something I've never learned. I've never had a joint bank account with a partner, for example, or had a house-hold budget or a plan for savings. These are things that need to happen so we can be more of a team and I know we will manage to learn them. I have a lot of faith in us, and so does B. I'm lucky. We are lucky. It isnt everyone who gets a second chance at a genuine and deep love. Twice in a lifetime. I've got that and I feel very blessed. B is a good man. He's amazing. We are both lucky to have one another. And we both know it.
I am/ we are busy with the process of becoming. Trying to be more conscious of the process.
Knowing that is enough.
Friday, April 11, 2008
A call for Solace, and Support...
My Friend has lost a loved one. I know what that feels like. We all do. It hurts like hell. It hurts like fucking hell. I'm asking for all of you to send loving thoughts of Solace to HM, who has lost a family member this week.
Not a single one of us is an Island. We need each other to get through this journey of life. ...
Please send her thoughts of comfort and solace through the ethers.
We all need each other's support....
Not a single one of us is an Island. We need each other to get through this journey of life. ...
Please send her thoughts of comfort and solace through the ethers.
We all need each other's support....
Friday, March 28, 2008
Cat Bandits....
For some time now, a couple of years easily, since Dolly was put on a diet, we have suspected that she has an alternate source of food.
Ollie is what she was originally named, (horrid), which morphed into Dolly, or otherwise known as 'Mau-mau'. She's a Black cat, with an auburn sheen that comes out in the sun like oil on mahogany; very beautiful with a short but very thick, shiny coat. She comes from, as do the kittens, a semi-feral cat colony. There are quite a few on the Island, and if the babies are captured early enough, they can become domesticated but they always retain their wild heritage in one way or another.... She's sexy and Rubinesque. Tough and very independent. In our family she's an alpha-girl, but savvy with her skills of diplomacy. She has a full house of four-legged and two-legged people to manage and does so with both a steely glance and a light touch. I could learn from her. And I do.
Dogs will love you no matter what. Having the love of any animal is an honour. It is a lifetime responsibility when one has an animal as a family member. Having the love of a cat who stays with you even though it has a cat door and can roam unhindered through the local world, is a gift above honour. They come back by choice. Cats CHOOSE to stay with humans. They dont have to. I often feel that humans adopt dogs but cats adopt humans...And we love our cats and dogs and spoil all of them shamelessly. Count 'em. Every one of our cats has a dawg... :) 1 each. times 4. That makes 8 four legged beasties. Yes we are a bit nuts, but that's ok.
Crazy is good.
Our animal meals, which consist of all kinds of good things such as - for the cats : wet cat food, and natural kibble- and for all the beasties: sardines, eggs with rice, my own home-made version of 'haggis' consisting of oatmeal, home made stock made from veggies, lamb and beef bones and a lot of time; some form of protein like canned salmon, ground beef or trout; veggies, seaweed, and whatever strikes my fancy to supplement their wet food and high-end kibble (which is paupering us, but we do love our beasties so sacrifices are made without much complaint). These are given out in exact measurements. Their nourishment and care are a source of pride for me ( pride goeth before a fall ).
I cant give the dogs the exercise they used to get because of my working hours (but they are middle aged now, being 8, 9, 9 and 10 going on 11, so they require less of a physical commitment and I go overboard in compensation with providing them what I can give....) They do get to the beach at least once a week during spring, summer and early Fall months, to swim and play, and several visits to the local ravine a week... mostly. The gentle paramble around the neighbourhood happens now and then, but they have their dog run out back which is a fenced in area approximately 75 feet per side. Frankly they use it as a toilet primarily, play pen only occasionally, as (duh) there arent any couches out there!
Anyway, back to the point, Dolly gets the same lovely food as all the others, only LESS . Because she's.... round. Rotund.
We have suspected that SOMEONE, due to her unaltered girth (which isnt dangerous but is ...'Zaftig') in the neighbourhood has been feeding her. Because she's a generously gifted thing. Stout. I call her plush. Her fur IS plush. Still, I thought it doubtful, due to her mistrust of strangers...And yet, sometimes, the odd occasion, she doesnt come home for dinner and stays out all night. The slut. First time it happened I 'grounded' her for a month, blocking the cat door at night. What would you have done?! It worked for about 6 months. She didnt play truant and came home at meal times like a good Catholic girl......
Huh.
Time went on and she became lazy with the rules, and the times she was absent, gone for hours past her meal time,always arriving late and then announcing her arrival as though she were the Queen, deigning to grace us with her Presence - and demanding a meal AT ONCE- I was grateful she came home. At all. Fat cats DONT miss their food opportunities, as we will soon reveal...
When she was playing truant, I walked the curbs and looked for her dead body, convinced she'd been struck and murdered by a car. Weeping, with a Miner's skull-beam flashlight on my head, I searched the shoulders and ditches, desperate to find her, dead or alive. Those of you who read my old blog under Chupaflor will recall my anxiety, and my ire (highly amusing no doubt in it's hindsight's telling) when she nonchalantly blasted through the cat door on the morning after ( or afternoon, I cant remember, little rat) and yowled for her missed dinner. As though it were MY fault she'd missed a gourmet home-made meal. Manipulative sow.
We got a call the other day from a distant neighbour who said our cat's collar had been found on his land. Kind of him to call. My heart stopped cold. Last time that happened the workers who found the collar of my cat, Tigger ( this was many years ago in Ontario, still married to my ex) were very gentle when they told him Tigger was dead. I was in England at the time and when I called home from a phone box to check-in, I collapsed on the ground when I heard the news and wept uncontrollably for two days.
I love my beasties too much. They are the only children I will ever have. When B told me our distant neighbour had called to tell us that Dolly's collar was at his house, I was sucker-punched, gobsmacked, thrown sideways and numb with sickness- at -heart, blood running cold....
But then I realized she was sleeping peacefully on the bed. On my Pillow.... Naturally.
Before work that day I went to the address, about 1/2 a kilometer away, and discovered that the land belonged to a regular customer and business acquaintance of mine. Apparently, Dolly has become known and has earned herself a reputation as a local pariah. She who is the affectionate and schmoozing cat, who comes home yowling loudly in welcome when she hears my car pull into the driveway and stretches out in my arms with a big purr-fest... She who yammers loudly at me when I go for a walk, scolding me when I leave the land. Like mother, like daughter-cat, she's a control freak... As for two leggeds, she's loving to me and pretty-much no one else including B, who was her first human, and who adopted her and is continuously choked that she has chosen me as her 'primary' human. She's fearless, fierce, a smoosh-ball of cudddles - for me- and loves her dogs with a possessive passion; especially William who she grew up with.
Little rat-bag has been roaming to other regions. Going over the 'big' road, and what's worse, Basil, my baby Baz, being lead down the 'garden path' by her Royal Terribleness, has learned to follow in her footsteps. Whether she actively solicited him is in doubt but clearly he followed her and a feline and unknowable to two-leggeds deal was struck. She showed him the ropes. It transpires that they have become a TEAM, and terrorize the cats from our, and neighbouring communities.
My Cat babies are terrorists.
It isnt funny. Dont laugh. Stop it! IT ISNT FUNNY! Okay, its a tiny wee bitty little bit funny. Well.... Hilarious, almost, if it isnt happening in your own house, and if you dont have to face angry neighbours. (We are a mad and dysfunctional family. Not unlike everyone else.....Although we have more feet than most. We endeavor to put the fun back into dysfunctional.....)
Lately, I've been noticing - strangely enough- that the incidence of cat-fight noises has been totally absent from our neck-of-the-woods since the kittens arrived, last May/June. In the past, a few summers ago, I remember Dolly running down the stairs of the front deck, to confront a stranger-cat. She was a scary thing. Literally a hell-cat. She on hind legs, arms waving wildly in the air, shrieking in that unholy other-wordly way that only irate (or amorous) cats can.... like a Ban-shee from some horror movie. (Yegads, I'D run from her right quick if I didnt know her! She's gorgeous but terrifying!)
What I realized this week is that the truth is that Dolly has seduced my baby Baz into a life of crime. He's not barely a year old! She's taught him street fighting. Taught him to be a con-artist and a bully. It seems it isnt enough to subdue and dominate the local cat population (who dont dare approach or encroach on our land anymore, hence the 'quiet' and lack of cat noises) . No, not good enough, they need to go to the NEXT neighbourhood, expanding their territory (across the 'big road').
Across the Very. Big. Road.
Shitfuckpissdamngoddamsonofabitch.
Meanwhile, poor neighbouring cats. My neighbour H said, when I arrived on his doorstep to get my rotten and criminally delinquent cat's collar, "Now that I know it's you who owns these cats, I feel a little bit better" whatever that means. Maybe it means he wont shoot them because he knows me, for they, according to him and I dont doubt him for a minnit, BEAT UP HIS CATS AND STEAL THEIR FOOD.
My children are criminals. Bandits. Hooligans!
Shit.
Bonnie and Clyde. I have bully cats. They are the local Feline Mafia!
(STOP LAUGHING!)
I cover my head in ashes of shame. I was so embarrassed when I went to retrieve her collar (one of many she's 'lost' and ironically the only one with her SPCA tag.)
IN other news: It is snowing. An unlikely and unseasonal dump of the wet and slushy stuff which threatens to freeze over-night, rendering the roads treacherous. I've got the wood-stove cranked and all the beasties are within. The terrible and unlikely twosome included. Monsters. The local and not-so-local cats and their dinners are, for tonight, at least, safe from marauding, voracious and unreasonably territorial cats who should know better and just stay home and sleep on the couch where it is warm, dry and I AM HERE to love them. Dont you think that should be enough for them?
You know, learning that one isnt enough for one's children, two or four footed, always sucks.
Cats will eat your face off if you die. Its true. They will eat your body whilst dogs will starve themselves (almost) before they desecrate your corpse. I love them. But Gods save me from dying alone in a house full of them. They are incorrigible. And a mystery. And really, my first love of animals. I will never be without them.
Hopefully if I die alone the neighbours will offer a more interesting menu.
I am only a human with a small scope of senses, limited in my understanding of almost everything in this world, and therefore good at having opinions and not-so-good at actually having real and genuine perception.
But I am grateful beyond words to have four-footed love, companionship and wisdom in my life. Thank you Goddess for giving me so much ( so very needed) unconditional love and relationship with the four-footed people and teaching me to be a student of them, and a friend to them.
They are the greatest teachers because they do not lie.
They might steal, drive you mad with worry, beat up and terrorize the neighbours ... and they might eat your face off if you unfortunately die alone, but they do not lie.
And that's something.
That's why I'll take on board, with big open arms, a four legged bandit over a two legged so- called person anytime.
Bird. xoxoxoxo
Ollie is what she was originally named, (horrid), which morphed into Dolly, or otherwise known as 'Mau-mau'. She's a Black cat, with an auburn sheen that comes out in the sun like oil on mahogany; very beautiful with a short but very thick, shiny coat. She comes from, as do the kittens, a semi-feral cat colony. There are quite a few on the Island, and if the babies are captured early enough, they can become domesticated but they always retain their wild heritage in one way or another.... She's sexy and Rubinesque. Tough and very independent. In our family she's an alpha-girl, but savvy with her skills of diplomacy. She has a full house of four-legged and two-legged people to manage and does so with both a steely glance and a light touch. I could learn from her. And I do.
Dogs will love you no matter what. Having the love of any animal is an honour. It is a lifetime responsibility when one has an animal as a family member. Having the love of a cat who stays with you even though it has a cat door and can roam unhindered through the local world, is a gift above honour. They come back by choice. Cats CHOOSE to stay with humans. They dont have to. I often feel that humans adopt dogs but cats adopt humans...And we love our cats and dogs and spoil all of them shamelessly. Count 'em. Every one of our cats has a dawg... :) 1 each. times 4. That makes 8 four legged beasties. Yes we are a bit nuts, but that's ok.
Crazy is good.
Our animal meals, which consist of all kinds of good things such as - for the cats : wet cat food, and natural kibble- and for all the beasties: sardines, eggs with rice, my own home-made version of 'haggis' consisting of oatmeal, home made stock made from veggies, lamb and beef bones and a lot of time; some form of protein like canned salmon, ground beef or trout; veggies, seaweed, and whatever strikes my fancy to supplement their wet food and high-end kibble (which is paupering us, but we do love our beasties so sacrifices are made without much complaint). These are given out in exact measurements. Their nourishment and care are a source of pride for me ( pride goeth before a fall ).
I cant give the dogs the exercise they used to get because of my working hours (but they are middle aged now, being 8, 9, 9 and 10 going on 11, so they require less of a physical commitment and I go overboard in compensation with providing them what I can give....) They do get to the beach at least once a week during spring, summer and early Fall months, to swim and play, and several visits to the local ravine a week... mostly. The gentle paramble around the neighbourhood happens now and then, but they have their dog run out back which is a fenced in area approximately 75 feet per side. Frankly they use it as a toilet primarily, play pen only occasionally, as (duh) there arent any couches out there!
Anyway, back to the point, Dolly gets the same lovely food as all the others, only LESS . Because she's.... round. Rotund.
We have suspected that SOMEONE, due to her unaltered girth (which isnt dangerous but is ...'Zaftig') in the neighbourhood has been feeding her. Because she's a generously gifted thing. Stout. I call her plush. Her fur IS plush. Still, I thought it doubtful, due to her mistrust of strangers...And yet, sometimes, the odd occasion, she doesnt come home for dinner and stays out all night. The slut. First time it happened I 'grounded' her for a month, blocking the cat door at night. What would you have done?! It worked for about 6 months. She didnt play truant and came home at meal times like a good Catholic girl......
Huh.
Time went on and she became lazy with the rules, and the times she was absent, gone for hours past her meal time,always arriving late and then announcing her arrival as though she were the Queen, deigning to grace us with her Presence - and demanding a meal AT ONCE- I was grateful she came home. At all. Fat cats DONT miss their food opportunities, as we will soon reveal...
When she was playing truant, I walked the curbs and looked for her dead body, convinced she'd been struck and murdered by a car. Weeping, with a Miner's skull-beam flashlight on my head, I searched the shoulders and ditches, desperate to find her, dead or alive. Those of you who read my old blog under Chupaflor will recall my anxiety, and my ire (highly amusing no doubt in it's hindsight's telling) when she nonchalantly blasted through the cat door on the morning after ( or afternoon, I cant remember, little rat) and yowled for her missed dinner. As though it were MY fault she'd missed a gourmet home-made meal. Manipulative sow.
We got a call the other day from a distant neighbour who said our cat's collar had been found on his land. Kind of him to call. My heart stopped cold. Last time that happened the workers who found the collar of my cat, Tigger ( this was many years ago in Ontario, still married to my ex) were very gentle when they told him Tigger was dead. I was in England at the time and when I called home from a phone box to check-in, I collapsed on the ground when I heard the news and wept uncontrollably for two days.
I love my beasties too much. They are the only children I will ever have. When B told me our distant neighbour had called to tell us that Dolly's collar was at his house, I was sucker-punched, gobsmacked, thrown sideways and numb with sickness- at -heart, blood running cold....
But then I realized she was sleeping peacefully on the bed. On my Pillow.... Naturally.
Before work that day I went to the address, about 1/2 a kilometer away, and discovered that the land belonged to a regular customer and business acquaintance of mine. Apparently, Dolly has become known and has earned herself a reputation as a local pariah. She who is the affectionate and schmoozing cat, who comes home yowling loudly in welcome when she hears my car pull into the driveway and stretches out in my arms with a big purr-fest... She who yammers loudly at me when I go for a walk, scolding me when I leave the land. Like mother, like daughter-cat, she's a control freak... As for two leggeds, she's loving to me and pretty-much no one else including B, who was her first human, and who adopted her and is continuously choked that she has chosen me as her 'primary' human. She's fearless, fierce, a smoosh-ball of cudddles - for me- and loves her dogs with a possessive passion; especially William who she grew up with.
Little rat-bag has been roaming to other regions. Going over the 'big' road, and what's worse, Basil, my baby Baz, being lead down the 'garden path' by her Royal Terribleness, has learned to follow in her footsteps. Whether she actively solicited him is in doubt but clearly he followed her and a feline and unknowable to two-leggeds deal was struck. She showed him the ropes. It transpires that they have become a TEAM, and terrorize the cats from our, and neighbouring communities.
My Cat babies are terrorists.
It isnt funny. Dont laugh. Stop it! IT ISNT FUNNY! Okay, its a tiny wee bitty little bit funny. Well.... Hilarious, almost, if it isnt happening in your own house, and if you dont have to face angry neighbours. (We are a mad and dysfunctional family. Not unlike everyone else.....Although we have more feet than most. We endeavor to put the fun back into dysfunctional.....)
Lately, I've been noticing - strangely enough- that the incidence of cat-fight noises has been totally absent from our neck-of-the-woods since the kittens arrived, last May/June. In the past, a few summers ago, I remember Dolly running down the stairs of the front deck, to confront a stranger-cat. She was a scary thing. Literally a hell-cat. She on hind legs, arms waving wildly in the air, shrieking in that unholy other-wordly way that only irate (or amorous) cats can.... like a Ban-shee from some horror movie. (Yegads, I'D run from her right quick if I didnt know her! She's gorgeous but terrifying!)
What I realized this week is that the truth is that Dolly has seduced my baby Baz into a life of crime. He's not barely a year old! She's taught him street fighting. Taught him to be a con-artist and a bully. It seems it isnt enough to subdue and dominate the local cat population (who dont dare approach or encroach on our land anymore, hence the 'quiet' and lack of cat noises) . No, not good enough, they need to go to the NEXT neighbourhood, expanding their territory (across the 'big road').
Across the Very. Big. Road.
Shitfuckpissdamngoddamsonofabitch.
Meanwhile, poor neighbouring cats. My neighbour H said, when I arrived on his doorstep to get my rotten and criminally delinquent cat's collar, "Now that I know it's you who owns these cats, I feel a little bit better" whatever that means. Maybe it means he wont shoot them because he knows me, for they, according to him and I dont doubt him for a minnit, BEAT UP HIS CATS AND STEAL THEIR FOOD.
My children are criminals. Bandits. Hooligans!
Shit.
Bonnie and Clyde. I have bully cats. They are the local Feline Mafia!
(STOP LAUGHING!)
I cover my head in ashes of shame. I was so embarrassed when I went to retrieve her collar (one of many she's 'lost' and ironically the only one with her SPCA tag.)
IN other news: It is snowing. An unlikely and unseasonal dump of the wet and slushy stuff which threatens to freeze over-night, rendering the roads treacherous. I've got the wood-stove cranked and all the beasties are within. The terrible and unlikely twosome included. Monsters. The local and not-so-local cats and their dinners are, for tonight, at least, safe from marauding, voracious and unreasonably territorial cats who should know better and just stay home and sleep on the couch where it is warm, dry and I AM HERE to love them. Dont you think that should be enough for them?
You know, learning that one isnt enough for one's children, two or four footed, always sucks.
Cats will eat your face off if you die. Its true. They will eat your body whilst dogs will starve themselves (almost) before they desecrate your corpse. I love them. But Gods save me from dying alone in a house full of them. They are incorrigible. And a mystery. And really, my first love of animals. I will never be without them.
Hopefully if I die alone the neighbours will offer a more interesting menu.
I am only a human with a small scope of senses, limited in my understanding of almost everything in this world, and therefore good at having opinions and not-so-good at actually having real and genuine perception.
But I am grateful beyond words to have four-footed love, companionship and wisdom in my life. Thank you Goddess for giving me so much ( so very needed) unconditional love and relationship with the four-footed people and teaching me to be a student of them, and a friend to them.
They are the greatest teachers because they do not lie.
They might steal, drive you mad with worry, beat up and terrorize the neighbours ... and they might eat your face off if you unfortunately die alone, but they do not lie.
And that's something.
That's why I'll take on board, with big open arms, a four legged bandit over a two legged so- called person anytime.
Bird. xoxoxoxo
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