Remembering ...

Memorial Day.  Last day of May.  The springboard into June and the combination of rain, humidity, and heat.

I'd like to take a moment to salute all who have served in the military, regardless of the country.  I salute all warriors who have fought for a cause they believed in.  I pay my respect to all who have sacrificed for their country, wherever that may be.  Salute to Mike, Dave, & Michael!

Today is also my Mom's birthday.  My Mom, my brother, and I were all born on or around major U.S. holidays.  Isn't that kinda cool?  I think so.

Rain has been forecast for the next week and the past two days have been nothing but cloudy skies and sporadic rain.  I am grateful for the rain because we do need it.  I am also grateful the thunder we have heard did not seem to escalate to anything serious and hopefully our neighbors escaped any serious weather.

I have filet mignon wrapped in bacon marinating in the fridge.  Fresh corn-on-the-cob, baked potato, okra, and dinner rolls.  Fresh Ghiradelli Double Chocolate muffins for breakfast this morning.  A fruit and cheese tray for a small appetizer before dinner.  Fear me for I am Betty Crocker today.

Hope your day is restful, peaceful, and filled with laughter.

*

I SALUTE

MILITARY PERSONNEL

& WARRIORS EVERYWHERE

~ PAST & PRESENT ~

*

it's always the first kiss...

...that you never forget.  Here is an example of what intrigues me about the poetry of Hafiz, a Sufi poet.

I am

A hole in a flute

That the Christ's breath moves through--

Listen to this

Music.

Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz (c. 1320-1389) is a well-known, great Sufi poet.  His poetry inspires the dervish dancers who spin in their magnificent skirts of red, yellow, black, or white with tall hats upon their heads; as well as those who dance silently within their souls.

i am an addict

I have a confession to make. I am an addict. Yes, it's true. I am ready to come out and admit it. It is time to face the truth and stop running away from it. Many people around me have known for years, yet didn't want to confront me. Rightfully so, I think now. I probably would have just denied it, became angry, and just buried myself deeper into my addiction.

I'm trying to remember how old I was when I started. It's frightening to think it goes all the way back into childhood. I can remember now, sitting in the dark in my closet. Everyone else asleep but me and my secret.

Even my co-workers have started making comments. I guess I've done well to keep my addiction hidden for so long. Well, hidden from myself perhaps. Troy has tried to confront me about it, but like any addict, I would become belligerent and change the subject.

I wonder if my Mother shares any responsibility in my addiction. After all, she's my first memory associated with it. Lying in bed as a child, my Mother's soft voice as she shared a fantasy of some land or place far away. Sisters, dark and fair, who become lost but found their way home, together. I swear every time she opened that book about Winnie-the-Pooh, I could smell the honey coming from the pages of the book. I began to crave the smell of honey. I wanted more.

Sitting in the early morning light, my purchases from last night in front of me. I am ready to admit to myself. I have a very, very serious addiction. The last inventory I took, which was about five months ago, I had in my possession 856 books. In case you didn't get that, that was EIGHT-HUNDRED FIFTY-SIX BOOKS. Yeah, and my house isn't that big. I have books everywhere. Stuffed in cabinets and drawers and closets and shelves and stacks of them EVERYWHERE. Since January, I have probably bought another 15-20 more books. By year end I could clear 900.

Perhaps it is more a compulsion than an addiction? I know that I love books. Have been passionate about them since I was a small child and my Mom introduced me to the wonderful world of books and fantasy lands and places where Evil Is Always Overcome By Good. Where good people were always rewarded in the end. Where the wicked always got their due. Listening to her read to me each night is one childhood memory that has never gone away. I may not remember the stories or how they went, but I remember her soft voice reading me to sleep each night.

As I grew older and she no longer read me to sleep at night, I began to read myself to sleep. Most of my life I have read before I fall sleep each night. I always end up doing the head-nod thing where the book slaps me in the forehead a couple of times before I finally surrender to sleep and put the book away.

I finished ALL the Bernstein Bears, Dr Seuss, and Little Golden Books.  My Aunt Nancy gave me a set of young girl detective books (before the Nancy Drew series) when I was a girl. I loved the Black Beauty and Black Stallion series. I read all the Little House On The Prairie books. I came in second place in a reading competition with another girl in 6th grade. (Which, for the record, her Mom was the teacher running the competition and I know she didn't really read all those books she said she did!)

I loved fantasy books and in my teens I dove into gothic- and Victorian-era romance. Anything with a strong woman who captured the heart of a roguish man and made him fall in love with her, THAT was MY kind of romance book.

From there I expanded into Horror. As most children do, I began with Poe, but quickly moved on to Stephen King, who became My God Of Horror; Dean Koontz, His Apprentice. Once all printed material by those authors had been read and they weren't publishing as quickly as I could read, I expanded into detective series such as James Patterson and Jonathan Kellerman. Absorbed each one of them and read them in order, one by one.

When I was younger I read of fantasy worlds and about other people living their lives. Then I grew into the adult world and found it filled with real horrors of war, torture, suffering, and death. Then, I began to question why. Trying to understand why things are the way they are. So I began with human puzzles in detective stories. Trying to understand human behavior. Why do people do what they do?

The books I am drawn to now are all spiritual, philosophical, and humanist-based. But they are also more about the inward journey than the outward. Instead of trying to understand why people do what they do, I am trying to understand why I do what I do. Once I understand that, then I may be able to better understand why others do what they do. I want to see the world around me as it truly is, yet still see the beauty beneath it all by understanding its true nature. I want to accept who I am and make peace with that. True understanding comes from within.

I've never really looked at the timeline linking my one life-long addiction, Books, to my personal developmental stages. I think it's kinda cool.

BUT! Like an addict, I'm changing the subject. It's not just about the content of the books. It's about their shape. Their weight. The musty smell the pages get when a book is old. The gentle touch of the pages as the years go by and the pages soften. The colors and textures of the covers and the method used to stitch or glue the book together. The font-type used in the book, the size and the spacing. How each author approaches a book. How chapters are titled and structured. I highlight my books when I read. I love to go back and re-read highlighted sections when I come across them again. I used to hate dog-earring a book page, but then realized, it's like a love-bite. A little mark left on the book that shows that someone loved it enough to want to return. Now, I lovingly dog-ear my book pages. Unless, it's a book of Poetry. That Is Not Meant To Be Dog-Eared.

I love everything there is to love about books. Even the books I find boring or don't finish reading. I still love them and will not throw them away. I will donate them. To throw them away, well, to me, that is like murder.

Each book I buy, I am honestly intrigued by the content I've examined. Each book I buy, I fully intend to read. There are so many books and I'm so afraid I'll miss one if I don't buy it when I find it, I won't find it again and that piece of information I sought will be lost to me forever. Wow. This is actually kinda deep free-flow writing. I bet a good psychotherapist or psychiatrist could have fun analyzing this. I'm sure my son will. LOL

So the question I ask you, dear reader, "is it an addiction or is it an obsessive compulsion?"  What do you think? Please post and let me know which one you think it is, addiction or OCD. Even if it's just a funny comment, c'mon, let me know you're reading this stuff! :)

Oh - and this is awesome. Here's the math on the books I currently own.

- Inventory in January stated 856 books
- Let's say I've read 200 of them
- That leaves 656
- If I can read 3 books/month that's roughly 218 months
Which means it will take me 18 years, reading 3 books/month to read all the books I currently own!

Troy is going to kill me.

Have a lovely day!

----------

P.S. My second biggest addiction is writing. Imagine that. But when I free-flow write, like in this blog, I learn things about myself. If you don't write, you should give it a try too.  A journal is a great place to start.  Or you could start your own private blog online.  (You can lock the blog down so no one can read it, or only certain people you authorize.)

Happy Friday!

Our system is offline for a few minutes, so thought I'd write a short blog post.  The past week has been a slight rollercoaster of feeling neutral to good.  Underlying feeling of tension and fidgety.  Those have passed and I'm feeling a little more relaxed.  Maybe it's the long weekend that inspires me.

Am reading two books (and hopefully, I will stick with two books).  The first is What the Buddha Taught and isn't necessarily an easy read.  It's small print and I have to keep going back and re-reading sections before I can begin to grasp some of the concepts they discuss.  The second book is, Zen Path Through Depression.  I thought I'd try reading it now before I'm in a depressive spell and can't read.  They are both books requiring deep thought, self-reflection and contemplation so it's not something you can rush through.  I am enjoying them both very much.

I've also picked back up cross-stitch and embroidery.  I haven't done embroidery since I was in my late teens, early twenties; cross-stitch maybe half that long ago.  Counted cross-stitch is much easier.  My eye sight is quite a challenge though and it's hard to see those teeny-tiny little holes anymore.  That's with glasses!

No big plans for the Memorial Day week end.  We'll be spending part of it on our roof evicting the Virginia Creeper vines our Tree Guy located for us.  A little RoundUp and some pruning shears should take care of it.  My Mom suggested bringing the lawn mower up.  Haha.  It's not quite that bad.

We have Troy's Pipe Ceremony tonight and meditation tomorrow night, but Sunday and Monday is ours!  We'll probably spend Sunday on the roof and doing yard work.  Monday, however, is reserved for absolutely, positively no commitments.  Just a laid-back, easy day to relax.  Hope yours is the same!  (Well, except for the climbing on the roof part...)

System is back online, so back to work now!  Have a beautiful day!

new link to monitor mood swings!

I posted a new link to my blog page in the upper right corner.  You can click on it to see how my mood swings are going.  It's really cool because under the "Instant Mood" section, you can see progress of my mood swings on a daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly basis.  I just started the charting on May 5th, so obviously there isn't a lot of data right now.  But there is an interesting trend when viewed on the monthly chart.  Understand my rating system:

• Very Bad:  Hopeless, extremely low self-esteem, extreme sadness, pessimism, anger, and feelings of insignificance.  Avoid people: family and friends.  Minimal or no social and physical functioning.
• Bad:  Beginning to avoid people.  Feelings of sadness and easily irritated.  Loss of self-confidence.  Low social and physical functioning. 
• Neutral:  This means I am somewhat apathetic.  Don't really feel myself, don't really feel happy, and don't really feel sad. Usually an indication that a depressive spell is coming on.
• Good:  This means I am feeling optimistic, more balanced, and more like the "self" I "feel" myself to be.  Not necessarily an indicator of a manic spell occuring.  Current studies state that a manic spell usually follows a depressive spell.  It will be interesting to see what my data reflects.
• Very Good:  This means a hypomanic or manic cycle is occuring.  Reading the notes will indicate if it is manic or hypomanic.

There will be blank spots where I am away from a computer or cannot rate.  But I am dedicated to updating as much as possible as a tool for me, my doctor, my caregivers, my family, and my friends.  You can click here to check it out:  http://www.patientslikeme.com/members/view/wildfire2windsong.

Baby Bear had it right after all!

I did the bad deed.  I did the wrong thing.  I made the mistake of lying down for "just a minute" and fell asleep early in the evening.  Now I'm wide awake and it's 3 in the morning.  It's gonna be a long day. 

The thing that really sucks is it would be a great time to do laundry or housecleaning ... except it would really piss Troy and Steven off (rightfully so, I might add) if I woke them up just because *I* can't sleep.  (Which, BTW, the image on the left is just for my sister.  She's the one with pixie dust in her eyes. LOL)

The radio show went very well.  You can go to:  http://blogtalkradio.com/upliftouryouth and listen to the archived show, if you'd like.  We are talking about doing a monthly spot now.  The two ladies, the IJs (? Internet Jockeys ?) were so very easy to talk to and they laugh a lot, which can put anyone at ease.  If I can laugh with someone, I can become very comfortable.  The two ladies, BTW, are Bridgette and Shante.  :)  They have attended our meditation practice group before.

I was a little worried before the day of the show because I had a slight dip into depression.  All together it lasted about 7 days with a varying degree of severity.  The worse of it was only about 2 days.  I was concerned I would still feel that way when it was time for the show.  Fortunately, it began to lift the day before the show and by the time of my phone call I was feeling more like the person I envision myself as.  Not uber-happy.  Not depressed and sad.  Just right, as Baby Bear declared, just right!

Today, of course, is dedicated to our meditation group.  Troy is stronger than me and got himself up at some point.  I felt him come to bed around 2 or so. I assume he was up searching the 'net, trying to find the perfect piece of music for tonight's meditation group.  He only has to come up with his 6 PM piece.  We already have the music selected for our 8 PM group.

Well, I guess I can use this energy and catch up on some emails I am behind in.  Have a Beautiful Day

Break a leg! That's show biz talk, ya know...

Was reading some material on bipolar disorder and cannot help but get slightly anxious when I read it.  I've read reputable sources (NIMH, DMDA, and PsychCentral) that all state, rapid cycling is the hardest to treat.  I also read the "average" bipolar can have 8 to 9 episodes in a lifetime.  I think I've well exceeded that number by now.  I found a new tool that is really great and helping me chart my moods.  It's also great because it gives me a print-out I can take to my doctor to give him a better picture of how I'm doing.
If you'd like to check it out:   http://www.patientslikeme.com/members/view/wildfire2windsong

If you check it out, there is an "Instant Mood" map that allows me to chart how I'm feeling throughout the day.  This is also good to document the rapid cycling within one day.  My latest depressive episode started while I was with family weekend before last.  It didn't quite hit me full force until a couple of days ago.  I had a few days of hell, woke up this morning and suddenly feel better.  I feel like this huge, dark, nasty, dirty load I was carrying finally washed off.

 
In other news, today is the day we'll be on the internet radio station.  Since it's at 6 PM, I'm not sure if Troy will be able to make it, but I hope he can.  We decided to do the call from the office since it's less noise (birds squawking, cats meowing).  Since I work in a closed area, it's pretty quiet come 6 o'clock.
 
If you'd like to listen go to:   http://www.blogtalkradio.com/upliftouryouth
 
It starts at 6 PM.  If you can't listen then, but would like to, the show will be archived so you can listen to it at your convenience.  You can also call the show between 6-7 PM if you'd like to ask questions or talk about your personal practice and how it's helped you.  The number is 917.889.7423. 
 
 

Uh-oh, on the radio, ray-de-oh, ray-do-oh

I wish I could remember who sang that song so I could tell people who question the title.  It's not uh-oh, it's exciting...and a little scary too!

Troy and I have been invited to be on a blog talk radio show.  It's internet radio, not your normal, every day radio over your car speakers or your boom box.  The only way you can listen to it is over the internet.

We have been invited to talk about meditation.  You know that is my passion and what I believe can change our world.  When Ghandi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world", he speaks of changing ourselves.  The way to change ourselves is to see ourselves as we truly are.  The only way we can see ourselves as we truly are is by getting quiet and being still.  When we are not distracted by our activities or our mind's chatter, then we can see reality as it truly is.  Less the distractions, less the confusion, less chaos. 

Before I go on and on about meditation, below is the address for the talk show.  It's this Thursday, May 20th from 6-7 PM.  If you'd like to listen but can't at that time, the show will be archived and can be played at your convenience.  There is also a phone number you can call in with questions from 6-7 PM, or if you'd like to comment about meditation and it's influence in your life.

Sorry, it's not a toll-free number:   917.889.7423

Here's the web address to listen to the show:  http://www.blogtalkradio.com/profile.aspx?userurl=upliftouryouth

Grandfather Oak Tree, may he live in pieces

As mentioned in my previous blog post, while we were gone one of the large branches fell from our 55+ year old Oak tree in our front yard.  This tree stands about 40-feet high and it's trunk is about 3-1/2 feet thick.  The branch that broke off reached from a few feet into our yard and crossed a two lane road into the yard opposite ours.  Our son was gone to work and we were 400 miles away, so our neighbors came out and cut away a section of the branch so at least one car could get through at a time.  The next morning Steven called the city and 30 minutes after arriving they had the branch cut up and carried away.

For over a year I have carried a business card for a tree service company that stopped by my house one day and left their card with me.  The thought of removing that tree wasn't even a possibility in my mind.  I love that old tree.

I pulled out the card, amazed to find I still had it, and called the owner, Jason.  He met me that evening and agreed the tree needed to come down.  There was a large branch hanging over our home that reached halfway across the roof.  If it fell it would be devastating.  We agreed to a price and he began cutting Friday afternoon.

I was (and still am) heartbroken we lost our tree.  He offered us beautiful shade and protection from sun and rain for the 20 years we've lived here.  We could sit on our front porch, almost hidden by the canopy of leaves in the spring and summer, and watch squirrels play on the tree.  We had four feeders for the squirrels and would love watching them dart in and out of the feeders grabbing a bite to eat.  Blue jays, crows, starlings, pigeons, doves, woodpecker, and hawk have all passed through our tree and visited our feeders or the ground beneath them. 

Now all that remains is a very large stump cut close to the ground and memories.  Being at the farm and then experiencing this with the tree teaches me the things we hold closest and dearest to us are things we must appreciate each moment we are with it.  At some point during our 20+ year relationship, Grandfather Oak planted a baby spirit tree in me.  It lives within me and I feel it stronger now that he has changed shape.  When I was a child my family planted a seed in me that has grown into a reverance and respect for that piece of land above all other.  That land says Family.

I spent a couple of days crying and, as my friend Bob says, obsessing, over the loss of the tree.  "It's a grieving process I'm going through", I assured him.  But he was right, I was also obsessing.  Bob is really good at spotting it in me and I appreciate when he helps me see it too.  He helps keep me out of trouble at work.  Most of the time.

I wrote a friend who wrote his friends and they made wonderful suggestions for appropriate ways to honor our tree and show our gratitude.  I finally settled for a heart hug.  I have found the "heart hug" to be the most healing hug of all.  It is when you allow your heart to touch the heart of the person you are hugging.  In order to do so, it requires full trust and openness to the other.  When I gave a heart hug to Grandfather Tree, he let me feel how very, very tired he was.  I realized, he was ready to go and so now I had to be ready also.  I poured my love and gratitude into my heart and sent it into him, hoping to touch him in his slumber.

Jason and his crew were amazing artists to watch as they transformed our beloved tree into a stump.  It seemed appropriate to watch something so beautiful be cut so gracefully, so balanced.  They were so considerate about our special request for pieces we wished to save.  They carefully cut them, preserving them as much as possible for our desired uses.  A 6" thick by 3-ft wide flat piece for a table top.  An 18" long thick branch to be used by Troy for a water drum.  Odd and end pieces to be used in arts and crafts and other ways. 

Grandfather Oak did not die.  He continues to live on.  Nothing dies.  Everything just changes shape and form.

Trees

I THINK that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918

you know when you are home

A lot has happened since I last wrote.  Might want to get comfortable. This may be a long one.  A very good one.  But a long one.  Hope you'll grab a cup of coffee or a soda pop and join me for a bit.  (See ya later, to those that can't stay.  Like my ADD friend.  You know who you are.  LOL)

I last left off with my anticipation about our upcoming trip to see my Mom and family for her birthday celebration.  What a weekend that was to be!

Our drive was uneventful and we arrived around 8 PM.  Around 11 PM (10 PM their time) Steven calls to tell us he arrived home to find a huge tree branch lying from our yard and extending out into the street.  It completely blocked both lanes of the road.  My heart sunk.  I could just see us having to re-load everything and drive back home to deal with this.  Fortunately, the city came and removed the entire branch, including what was in our yard.  We were most appreciative to hear our tax dollars were at work.  We were now able to enjoy our weekend with my family without worry.  (I later learned our neighbors came out and trimmed the end of the branch off enough that people could drive through one lane past the tree.  Steven was at work when it happened so they took care of it for us.  We have good neighbors.)

We spent Friday in a whirlwind cleaning the house, cooking, moving Rubbermaid tubs (my Mom has a zillion of them!), and, my most favorite thing in the world ... mowing!  I'm not kidding.  I really and truly love mowing the lawn.  Doesn't matter if it's a push mower or a riding mower.  I love two things about mowing the lawn.

First, the smell reminds me of summers at my Grandparent's farm.  My Grandfather baling hay.  The sweet smell of sun-dried grass.  Every time I smell cut grass I can relax into the love and happiness those memories bring.

The second thing I love about mowing the lawn is it fits my perfectionist trait, if you'll pardon the pun, perfectly!  I love to watch as the wild and unkempt is conquered and made uniform.  I guess it's the conformist in me really coming out, huh?

Late afternoon Friday, my sister, Crystal, arrived with her two sons, James and Joshua.  Whenever my sister arrives there is always life and laughter in the room.  She is an amazing woman, sister, and friend.  She's never lost her childhood innocence and purity of thought.  I guess my step-father is right, she has pixie dust (Disney trademark) in her eyes.  I hope she never, ever has a single piece of it removed.  She makes me laugh more in the span of five minutes than anyone else I know can. 

Friday became Saturday and my mood began to slip.  I hate when it happens and I'm surrounded by people because all I want to do is be left alone and all family wants to do is be together.  It's like the nerve-endings in my body begin to slowly rise to the surface and the more noise and activity that is around me the more quickly they come to the surface until everything irritates and annoys.  I try to escape at this point without being obvious.  I hate, I hate, I hate when I feel that way when I'm around people.

Eventually, I escaped to the back deck and was able to sit and meditate for about 30 minutes.  Once I was able to tune out the sounds coming from inside the house and focus on my own internal emotional and thought process I was able to make those nerve endings sink back beneath the surface of my skin.  I still had to keep tight control on my irritability because it was always riding close as well.  My fuse was shorter than I would have liked for being around family.

I remember my Father not being able to handle a lot of noise and activity or his "nerves" would bother him.  As children we had to be quiet around him, especially when he was feeling nervous.  Now I understand what he was going through.  I learn more and more how much I am my Father's daughter.  My poor Dad musta been double whammied by me.  When I was a kid I suspect I had manic episodes and I'm sure at least one of those coincided with my Dad's sensitive times.  That had to have made things worse for him -- and in turn for everyone else in the family as well.

Eventually, later that evening my mood began to lift some, but never quite made it to where I would have liked it.  My medication began to kick in early in the evening and by 10 PM, I was feeling light-headed and sleepy, so I went to bed.  It was the night I had dreamed of, Fire Pit Night with family circled around and a table covered with marshmallows, graham crackers and Hershey's Chocolate.  Here I was going to bed.  To say it was a disappointment would be a major understatement.

Sunday morning I woke feeling better, as if everything the day before was in a fog and my brain had been reset. (This is actually known as rapid-cycling, one of the hardest to treat.)  

Before Crystal, James, and Josh left, we gathered, as my step-father Mike was fond of saying, "all his kids at the bottom of the pond", for pictures.  Crystal, James, Josh, and I stayed behind to sign our names to the water pole in the center of the pond.  We thought it turned out fairly well.  Seaman/Hill graffiti.  You can see the pictures by clicking here.

Let me be very clear about what I am sharing here.  I looked forward to seeing my family and enjoyed every single minute we spent together.  I do not regret any moment of our time together.  This is not about my family.  It's about me.  It's how things affect me.  My family is very affectionate, chaotic, and loving -- as most are.  It's my inability to handle the intensity sometimes that drives me (and sometimes, them) away.  Emotionally, I am unable to process it comfortably.  That is one reason bipolar disorder is called a mood disorder.  We have an inability to process emotions and moods like most other people do.  We feel things in extremes.  What might be a minor annoyance to you is an extreme pain to me.  It's not something I am proud of and I feel ashamed when I act that way.  That is why I think I struggle with it even more.  I know it.  I identify it.  But I cannot control it.  I feel like a zombie controlled by something else.  I hate it and so when I feel it that hatred seeps through and taints everything around me with tension, anxiety, fear, and paranoia.

Dave and Monika left shortly after Crystal and the boys did. Everything got quiet and I was able to fully relax again.  I began to feel more like the "real" me that I wish everyone could see all of the time. 

Troy and I took a walk around the property dreaming of the day when we can move there.  Talking about where we wish to place our home.  Things we'll grow, the animals we'll keep.  Snakes and other creepy crawlies that owned this piece of land before we did and in our absence owns it once again.  We came across a huge gopher tortoise burrow.  It went about 4 feet back before making a sharp left turn.  My Mom said my Grandfather had tried to dig one's burrow up once and finally gave up.  I guess that's one of the reasons they live to be so big.

We strolled around the land.  We looked at the murky water at the corner of the property where the cows come to drink.  In my mind, all I could see were water moccasins and my unprotected legs.  Walking through the brush underneath the canopy of trees a branch brushed against the back of my ankle and my heart almost leapt from chest in fear.  We saw deer tracks crossing one end of the pasture and raccoon tracks crossing the driveway.

We walked the cut-through our family has renamed, rightfully so, "Matzen Lane".  Family history is that the land was taken from our family and a cut-through was put in.  The county named the cut through "Coy Ellis Road", but this is the only time you'll hear me call it that.  As far as I'm concerned, it's Matzen Lane.  God Bless America...and all her immigrants, too!  (Belief is it was taken from our family because my great-grandparents were German.  Around the time of WW2, not many white folks trusted Germans in that part of Florida.)

Walking the land reminded me of childhood summers spent walking around the pasture, playing, running, riding our imaginary horses.  My Grandfather wouldn't get a horse because, "they don't do nothin' but eat and have to be taken care of".  Cows and pigs, those you can eat.  I believe businessmen today call that "ROI" - return on investment.  My Grandfather is a wise man.

By the end of our visit, I was feeling more relaxed than I have felt ... well, I honestly can't tell you the last time I felt that relaxed.  That natural.  I felt like I was home.  I was where I was supposed to be doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing.  All the meditation.  All the books I've read.  I was actually doing all of it.  Right then.  I was completely and totally ... in ... the ... NOW.  I had no thoughts of future or past.  I existed only in the moment of bright sunshine, the sweet smell of grass.  The songs of birds all around me.  The soft sigh of the trees as the wind blew through their leaves.  THAT is what GOING HOME means.  When you are loved and accepted, exactly as you are.  When you know you are loved and are comfortable enough to allow all of your defenses down, to be who you really are, THEN, you KNOW you are HOME.

Since that visit, I have finally been able to release a lot of guilt, shame, and feelings inside for many, many years that I had not been able to express.  I was able to do so while I was there and since coming home.  Three people who mean very much to me.  My soul feels at peace.  I feel as if I have finally come home.

I am so grateful for I am so very, very blessed.  I love my family.  Each and every one.

excited

This week end we will be enjoying a family celebration at my Mom's place in the panhandle.  It will be the first time we've all gotten together in a long time...and especially everyone sleeping under the same roof!  Don't know when that will happen again, so this is a rare opportunity to savor every moment of family time.

Troy and I will be driving up on Thursday after my 8 AM doctor appointment.  Steven will be staying home to watch the homestead and keep animals fed and watered during our absence.  It's about a 7-hour drive, so we should get in sometime that evening.  Our Friday will be spent running errands and preparing for the big celebration day on Saturday!

Mom got a fire pit and I'm really looking forward to spending time sitting around the fire pit, talking, and having a good time.  Hopefully mosquitos won't be too bad.  I'm bringing some bug spray and citronella incense I bought.  Haven't seen the incense be too successful (as I expected), but hey, it's a great way to burn it all up without throwing it away.  I feel so bad now when I throw away something that could be used by someone else.  Though, not sure about the incense being used by someone else.  Not sure I could even give it away!  LOL

Saturday will be our big celebration.  We have some surprises in store, but can't mention them here because at least my Mom reads my blog!  LOL

Sunday will be a Mother's day celebration (she's really making out this year!).  Birthday on Saturday, Mom's day on Sunday.  It's almost like my birthday - a holiday and birthday back-to-back!

Monday, Troy and I will be headed back to Orlando.  That drive really sucks because it's S-E-V-E-N hours that feels more like E-I-G-H-T because we have to give back the hour we lost when we drove up to the panhandle.

BUT a family gathering filled with laughter and love is well worth the L-O-N-G drive!

it's just life ...

I was watching the Rosie O'Donnell special where they had an ocean cruise that the liner was dedicated to serving gay/lesbian couples and families.  I've seen it before, yet I am always compelled to watch it again when I come across it.  I am always so impressed by the amount of love you see expressed by the couples to one another, but also to their children.  There is all this concern about the children being "made gay" because they have gay parents.  Yet their children all appear to be heterosexual.

We have so many things to worry about in this world and in each of our own personal lives, why do we get caught up in so much hatred, fear, and anger toward people who express themselves sexually differently than we do?  It was horrifying to watch a Christian group that boycotted them when they came off the ship by yelling hateful and hurtful things at them and their children.  How sad that people can pervert religion to that point.

Another thing it made me think.  Maybe there really are a lot more mentally ill people in the world than we realize.  They hide behind the fervor and disguise of religion or politics or any other position of power.  Something to think about.

On to another topic that has given me pause.  Has anyone else walked outside and stood in the sun lately?  I've never felt the rays of the sun so strongly on my skin before.  Maybe it's an aging thing.  I hope so, because other thoughts that creep into my mind are frightening.

I was watching a couple of shows in History channel.  One was about 2012 and the other on Nostradamos prophecies for the "end of times".  On one hand, it is exciting to consider the possibility that we could all be witness to an amazing, yet radical, change in humanity.  The increase in earthquakes.  Volcanoes spewing ash high into our atmosphere that is traveling around our globe.  Something we forget is the ash is on our side of the ozone layer.  Only some of it escapes and over a long period of time, relatively speaking in human terms. 

Now this disaster in the gulf.  You know, that place that Crist assured Floridians was safe to drill?  Yeah, that one.  It is so sickening to consider the loss of innocent wildlife, animals that will be wounded or die slow, painful deaths.  All because of our need for MORE OIL.  WHAT is wrong with us?  I refuse to watch TV or read the news online because I cannot take the bombardment of death, destruction, and chaos I see when I do look.

I'm not a conspiracy theorist.  I don't believe in doomsday prophecy.  I don't believe in Armageddon or "end times".  I do believe that we have almost exhausted our natural resources because of our own greed.  I do believe it is going to mean a massive shift in our attitudes and quickly, or things are going to get bumpy.

I can't help but feel little twinges of fear when I hear what is happening "out there".  However, I refuse to live each day in fear of what may come that day.  I can only deal with each moment as it comes.  Does that mean I do nothing?  No.  What it means is, I hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

Time to pick up skills that came almost naturally for my grandparents.  Time to become frugal.  Time to make a Plan B.

It's kind of funny, and slightly worrisome if I think about it too much.  I remember back in the 70s when my Dad became convinced there was going to be a nuclear attack.  I remember him storing huge cans of mixed vegetables and other staples in our food closet in preparation.  He had cash stashed and kept his weapons clean and fully stocked.  He was a man prepared to defend his family.

Could what is happening now be, what my Dad feared finally coming closer to fruition?  Or is it what I've inherited from him?  You know, it's really hard for me to discern between the two.  Perhaps that should be frightening, but it isn't. 

It's just life.