FEAR AND LETTING GO

Some years ago, while on vacation with my husband in Key West, I had an amazing experience with fear and letting go.  We were there to celebrate my college graduation after many years of school – I was 46 when I graduated. 

I fell in love with Key West.  It is loose, free and beautiful.  I can’t tell you how many people we spoke with who said they went for vacation and never left.  Some left big careers behind while others just dropped out to pursue a beach bum lifestyle.  One man told us that he literally did not go back to pack up his life in New York.  He had everything shipped and never looked back.  We met many homeless people - some by choice, and those that chose to live on the fringe; simple and uncomplicated.  All in all, most seemed content. It’s a different vibe altogether; one of nature, art, freedom, ease, bliss and relaxation. At least on the surface.

Anyway, Tim and I had a number of different things we wanted to do and explore in addition to beaches, bars and shops.  For example, I wanted to visit the Hemingway house and he wanted to rent scooters to tour the island (we had a rental car).  I wanted to snorkel in the ocean and he wanted to take a ride in an open cockpit biplane.

We’ve snorkeled before, in a beautiful lagoon in Xel Ha Mexico.  We loved it.  But Tim didn’t relish the idea of snorkeling in the ocean by a reef…sharks and all.  In fact, he didn’t “think it was wise.”  He did, however, think flying around over the ocean and island in a tiny biplane with an open cockpit that seats 3 people, one being the pilot - a stunt pilot no less, was a super fun idea. I, on the other hand, not so much.  But we struck a deal:  Tim would snorkel with me in the ocean and I would fly in the open cockpit biplane with him. 

The snorkeling trip didn’t work out so well.  The ocean was rough that day so the boat captain would not go out to the reef as planned.  He took us out to an area that he deemed safe and we snorkeled.  But there was no coral reef, no beautiful fish - just lots of seaweed and waves.  I was disappointed to say the least.  

The next day was our biplane trip.  I cannot tell you how frightened I was to go up in that plane.  I was imagining all sorts of terrible things happening.  As we drove to the airfield I could feel terror building inside and for once in my life I was speechless.  I really wanted to back out.  We arrived at the airfield office, paid for our trip and waited for the pilot.  Tim was in seventh heaven looking at the pictures on the wall of the plane and talking about the flight.  I was hoping our family would put together a tasteful but not too expensive funeral for us.  

Then something peculiar happened.  The pilot arrived and took us out to the plane.  As he helped us get strapped in – Tim and I in the front and he in the back with the control panel, I relaxed…completely.  All of the tension in my body melted and my mind emptied.  I think at that moment I realized that whatever happened was out of my control at that point so I let go.  It doesn’t sound like much but it is a moment in time that I’ll never forget.  I surrendered my fears completely.   That flight was spectacular.  We flew for about 45 minutes, soaring above Key West and the Atlantic / Gulf of Mexico.  The pilot was a famous stunt pilot and we swirled and dipped low over the coral reef where I’d hoped to snorkel (he pointed out nurse sharks swimming in the area).  And there was NO FEAR.  It was one of the most wonderful and freeing experiences I’ve had.

I have never forgotten that experience and have had it again on smaller scales occasionally.  When I’m afraid, I go back to that moment of surrender in the biplane at Key West.  And I remind myself that control is just an illusion anyway.  It’s so much better just to let go and enjoy the ride.  

STRANGE FRUIT, INDEED

Last night the jury in the Trayvon Martin case issued a verdict of "not guilty" for George Zimmerman.  This is in Florida, the same state where, in this past year, a black woman was sentenced to 20 years in prison for firing warning shots from her legally registered gun to avoid a beating from her estranged husband against whom she had a protection order (PPO).  His attacks against her are documented.  She did not kill or injure him in any way.

I don't feel, in any way, qualified to write about this travesty of justice. Instead, I have posted a few comments from Facebook friends that really hit home to me.  

"How far have we come since Emmett Till?  Since Oscar Grant?  I tried to avoid the TV coverage of the trial because it was so painful, but each glance revealed the terrible moves by the prosecution and the demagoguery of the defense, and I felt the verdict to acquit was inevitable because of incompetence, because of America's history.  Just imagine if it were a black man accosting a young white man what the verdict would be.  Strange fruit, indeed."  ~Hilton Obenzinger

"I have a 17 year old Aquarius black son who carries a 3.7 GPA and loves hoodies, Skittles and Arizona ice tea.  If you know my son, you know these facts about him.

Every single time he has left the house, for at least 7 years, I have had the speech with him about taking his hands out of his pockets in the store, unzipping his jacket, pulling his hoodie off of his head, making eye contact, but not staring... He never understood why I was so protective and why he had to be drilled so much.

Unfortunately, today he understands."  ~Tawana Petty

"Only in America can a dead black boy go on trial for his own murder."  ~Syreeta McFadden

The grief is Trayvon's family's.  The collective shame as a country is ours.

WANDERLUST

"I haven't been everywhere, but it's on my list."  ~Susan Sontag

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."  ~Marcel Proust

"Not all who wander are lost."  

~J.R.R. Tolkein

"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page."  

~St. Augustine

"My treasure is the cloud on the peak, the moon over the valley, traveling east or west.  Light and free on the road."  ~Muso Soseki

"Still, round the corner there may wait a new road or a secret gate."  

~J.R.R. Tolkein

I want to see everything and go everywhere.  Yet I'm bound here - for now.

STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES

"Two things are infinite; The universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe."
~Albert Einstein

"There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life."
~Frank Zappa

I started putting together this piece about stupidity, mostly my own, but when I began to research stupidity, the topic expanded somewhat, mostly because there is a sizeable amount of information and insights on human stupidity out there.  Seriously folks, there has been a lot of thought and research on this subject; some serious, some tongue in cheek and much of it a wee bit angry.

In any event, there are all kinds of stupidity out there.  Many people err by lumping stupid behavior all together under the category, “Stupid.”  Wrong! Not all stupid is created equal. 

In my research, I have found topics like:

        The Six Types of Stupidity

        10 Varieties of Stupid

        4 Types of Person:  A Guide to Stupidity

        The Art of Stupidity (now it’s an art)

        Why Are People So Fucking Stupid

        The Power of Stupidity

        Are You Smart Enough to Know You’re Stupid?

And these are just to name a few.  I didn’t go too deep into any one of them…except maybe, “Why Are People So Fucking Stupid,” because that is often my mantra.  Anyway, most of the articles broke stupidity down into categories.  Some were very funny and some were angry.  And that’s the thing about it. Perceived stupidity causes a reaction.

Stupidity as defined by Wikipedia:

A lack of intelligence, understanding, reason, wit or sense. It may be innate, assumed or reactive – "being ‘stupid with grief’ as a defense against psychological trauma," A state marked with "grief and despair…making even simple daily tasks a hardship."

Stupidity as defined by Merriam Webster:

Given to unintelligent decisions or acts:  acting in an unintelligent or careless manner.  (Pay attention, because this is upper echelon stupid.  Here, the person gets credit for not really being stupid....just acting stupid).  Lacking intelligence or reason.

Ok, let's analyze:  Lacking intelligence or reason:  Way too vague but can apply easily to certain sets of individuals, I think.  For example;  2 to 5 year olds.  Well, except for the whole "state marked with grief and despair,"  unless of course, said 2 to 5 year old is being forced to go to bed, eat broccoli, wear boots in the snow or say hi to Grandma.  So yes, sometimes , we are stupid because we are young.  Or are we?   This is a devious group my friends.  They will do anything to get their way and may go as far as employing faux stupidity.  Be wary.

There is also teenage stupidity which often falls under the "lacking intelligence or reason" category as well.  It is typified by behavior that teeters between grown up, and small child complete with wild mood swings alternating with responsible and irresponsible conduct.  It is a tough time for both child and parent.  We've all been there, some more than others.

Then there are those who choose stupidity because, maybe it feels good for the moment.  I'd venture to say that a large percentage of my stupid behavior from teen years on up are because I chose stupid over lucid and mature behavior in my life.  Often, what feels good at the moment, only serves to humiliate you later - after which you swear you will never do _________________again.  And hopefully, you don't, but sometimes......okay, moving on.

There are actually people who play dumb because it either gets them out of something they don't want to do, or they harvest attention from it.  I don't get that...I think it's the epitome of stupid to act stupid for attention.  C'mon, you can also get attention by pretending to be smart, ahem...

People are sometimes stupid in love and behave in ways their rational mind would never permit if not under the influence of the drug called "love."  They can become controlling, devious, whiny and jealous.

Anyway, the categories go on and on.  And I think I know what I'm talking about here.  I'm experienced. I've been through most of the types of stupidity already mentioned as well as many that are not during various periods of my life.  The occasions where stupidity has taken root are scattered throughout.  Not being a total sadist, I'll keep those most obtuse behaviors to myself.  The following is the abridged version of my personal cycle of stupid, or "stupid light" as I like to think of it.  Note the subtle change from amusing childish stupidity, to the more grown up stuff that is not nearly as fun.

Ages 2 - 7

Dug a hold under the fence with a soup spoon to take one year old Marcia, whom my mother was babysitting, across busy Charlevoix to get ice cream at Cunningham's (in my defense, I was 2 1/2 years old and don't even remember the incident).  Actually, this probably qualifies as my mother's stupid behavior too...Totally underestimating a toddler with a spoon.

Hid in a store at age 5 until the police were called because I wanted to "fool my mom."  She apparently had laughed the first time I did it (when I was 3) and told the story over and over.  I was confident she'd enjoy it again.  I was mistaken.

Heated up my crayons in a pan on the stove to make a candle while I was home from school "sick" one day.  My mom was outside hanging clothes on the line.  While they were heating, I went into the living room to watch TV and forgot completely about the crayons until they became a sizzling, spattering, shooting mass of hot wax that I could not get near to shut off the stove.  I had to scream for mom.  Then mom screamed for me....Wasn't pretty.  The kitchen had to be scraped and painted and the curtains were ruined. 

Believed that Fantastic spray cleaner would clean red lipstick off of freshly painted white flat paint in our dining room.  The commercial said so!  I wrote YOGI BEAR in newly learned cursive on our dining room walls.  Lesson learned:  Don't beleive everything you hear on TV.  Mom went nuts.

Ages 12 - 18

Started tippling my mother's vodka at age 12 (I was home alone alot).  She would mark the label on the bottle with her fingernail to make sure my dad wasn't touching it (he was an alcoholic in recovery).  I would pour some and mix it with orange juice, just like mom.  Then I'd add water up to the fingernail mark and pop the bottle back into the freezer.  I did this over and over until one fine day, mom pulled the bottle out of the freezer and it was half frozen.  Dad caught hell and I felt terrible, albeit, not terrible enough to help dad out with the truth.  Not nice...and stupid.

Hitchhiked frequently.  Incredibly stupid.

Smoked cigarettes and pot.  Stupid and stupid.

Experimented liberally with illegal substances.  Dumb and stupid.

Cut my hair in a Rod Stewart shag - I have curly hair.  Beyond stupid.

Ages 18 - 22

Got kicked out of the house at the age of 18 and lived in an apaprtment above a Coney Island with friends and 5000 cockroaches in the worst area of the city.  I never went home even though mom asked me to move back.  I was "free."  Almost too stupid to live.  Surprisingly, I did.

Quit high school 6 weeks before graduation (immediately after I got kicked out). Dumb, dumber and stupid.

Bought my first car for $300 and was totally overcharged.  It barely ran.  Thank you Mike Dionne.  Stupid.

Drove drunk times too numerous to mention (I should get some points - it was the 70's).  Selfish, and stupid.

Kicked a hole in the door of the Pizzeria that I worked at.  I was a little angry.  Got fired soon after.  Stupid and angry... and stupid.

Stabbed my friend Clyde in the arm with a fork - unintentionally.  His arm was in the way when I threw the fork.  No, I do not remember why I threw the fork.  Stupid and dangerous, and stupid.

Got married at age 20 after knowing him for 6 months.  STUPID!

Had first baby 6 months later (I wouldn't trade her for anything - best stupid thing I ever did).

Ages 22 - 35

Believed the bible was meant to be taken literally...all of it for 10 years.  Misinformed / stupid.

Stopped thinking for myself.  Don't ever do this one.  The height of stupidity.

Believed in the "name it and claim it" prosperity doctrine (combined with the stopped thinking for myself stupidity).  Almost too stupid to believe. 

Believed that God was a being so shallow that he promoted the "name it and claim it" doctrine.   Asinine.

Made my kids spend almost every day of their childhood at church (their school was at the church).  Stupid.

Ages 35 - present

Obtained 2 degrees in fields that I was not really interested in because of money.  Then, I could not get a job in either field because of lack of experience and now owe $28,000 in student loans that I don't make enough money to pay.  Sigh... 

Spending a considerable amount of time researching stupidity for a blog post.  Maybe stupid?  Maybe informative?  Ok...stupid.

There's much more I could say but I think I'll stop here.  I think that I've slowed down on impulsive and stupid behavior considerably as I've aged.  Thank goodness for that.  We all have our moments - some much worse and with more drastic outcomes than others.  It is said, they walk among us.  It is true.  It is also true that we walk among them, or something like that. 

I sometimes wonder how I survived all of that stupidity.  Dumb luck, divine intervention or otherwise.  I'm glad I did.

Stupid is as stupid does.

MONDAY...

MONDAY MONDAY...CAN'T TRUST THAT DAY...

Nice weekend.  Had a good time and a little wine and now it's Monday. 

Yow...

Hopefully, it's all downhill from here.

 

WEATHER REPORT

I don't have anything of value to write about today really.  I just want to complain. So, to the two people who read this blog, I apologize in advance.  This has been a tough week.  Or, should I say, an exceedingly tough week. 

Perhaps I should say - a week whose wretchedness is beyond the norm, surpassing most weeks in the past two months. 

This week has been taxing, emotionally painful, daunting, strenuous, exacting, hard, unpleasant, ugly, pathetic, melancholy, distressing, miserable, tense, strained and edgy.  And that's just in my head. 

I won't mention specifics.  Let's put it this way; Today is mostly cloudy with a 90% chance of bitchy. 

Forecast brought to you by Crabby Pants.
 

YES MICHIGAN! THE FEELING'S FOREVER....

This morning we woke up to another day of whirling snowflakes.  We are expecting 2 to 4 inches.  It's so beautiful! 

As I walked from my car into the office, I ran into two different people that complained about the snow.  I smiled and nodded with empathy.  I've tried to hate on Michigan winter. I'm sometimes tempted to join the majority that bitch nonstop about our Midwest cold and snow to, you know, fit in. They generally start as the first autumn leaf floats to the ground and build to a crescendo during February and March. The remnants of this cold weather bitch fest go on into late spring when the temps finally become stable. 

The thing is, I love winter. Just like I love spring, fall and even summer. I like the variation and stark difference of each season. I wouldn't like living in a place where all the seasons were the same, the type of clothing didn't change and the food was mostly summer salads and barbecue. Boring…..

I love sweaters and sweatshirts, scarves and mittens. I mean, barbecue is nice. But so are soup and chili, stews and hot cocoa. I love a brisk bundled up walk on a snowy winter’s day followed by that steaming cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows on top. Or, sitting by an out of doors fire with friends sipping warm mulled wine (I've never actually had warm mulled wine, but I'll bet it's awesome).

I’m all for making the best of it. Kind of like I do when it’s 95 degrees with a heat index of 110 (To be fair, I have air conditioning).  My point is, there is something beautiful everywhere for those with the eyes to see.

I wrote this a few years back. I’m feeling it today.

THE ZEN OF WINTER

"ZEN - enlightenment that is attained through meditation, self-contemplation, and intuition."

I marvel over the quiet beauty that is the season of winter, my muse.

Dignified, regal, elegant in its simplicity, winter is the soul of reflection. It is the contemplative season, ceasing outward activity for tranquil introspection, keeping sweet secrets that will surface in the spring in a vibrant rush of new life.

Winter is the guru of cyclical nature, leading us to slow down, reflect and savor the warmth of hearth and home, family and friends and to forge a mental path for the days to come when time will be stolen by other outdoor activities. Relish the solitude, the chance for brief intervals of hibernation; to recharge and become enlightened.

The Zen of Winter

ALMOST CUT MY HAIR

There’s this thing I do.  I do it when I’m stressed or when I feel crappy about myself.  Sometimes I do it when life seems unmanageable.  I used to do it when I had PMS.  I don’t do it every day – I’d be bald.  But it happens.  It’s almost always a symptom of something out of kilter in my universe.  

I cut my hair. What I know about cutting hair you could stick in your eye.  I can say with certainty that scissors are involved. 

I started snipping my hair as a teenager.  I was in the early stages of flying my freak flag and gave my crowning glory a Rod Stewart shag (his Small Faces – pre lounge lizard days), short and spiked on the top and long on the sides and bottom - an abstract not quite mullet, done entirely  by yours truly.  Awesome!  But not.  I have curly hair which, at that time, was the bane of my 16 year old existence, and I had no blow dryer in those days.  So I bought a product called Dippety Do to smear on the spikes, then pinned them down until they dried so they would stand up all nice and straight and spiky as opposed to the poodle look that ensued without it.

I don’t have any pictures of that style, THANK GOD!  Because I remember it and although to my demented teenage mind it looked pretty cool, I’m sure adults looking at it felt much like I do these days when seeing young dudes with their pants hanging down past their crotch displaying their boxers and walking like there’s a stick up their ass.  

For sure, I know my mom hated it….she didn’t hesitate to let me know.  But no mind... she hated other cool stuff too, like my bell bottom hip hugger jeans that were intentionally so long they dragged on the ground becoming  ripped, dirty and frayed along the bottom (that's what made them cool).  Or, the seal skin coat I purchased at a thrift shop that had bald patches all over it.  These were, in my eyes, the bomb!

Control

When you’re a teenager, and starting to find out who you are, everything revolves around controlling your image – even if you don’t know what that image is yet.  And it’s hard to do because you’re kind of dumb and naïve and in most cases, the best you can hope for is to navigate the shark tank and keep your legs.  Because it is truly a jungle out there for that age group. 

The truth is that while I cut my hair as a teenager for reasons that are very different from why I do so today, the common denominator is the same.  It’s all about control.  Today, the image and angst of my teen years is replaced with feelings about my self-image and self-worth.  It’s about disappointment and the presentiment that time and opportunity are somehow slipping through my fingers and I can’t grasp them.  So, I feel helpless and out of control.  I look in the mirror and I don’t like what I see in that moment so I grab the scissors and snip a little here and a little there.  And for a few minutes I feel that some little part of my life is being steered by me, again – for better or worse.  

I hadn't done any impulsive hair cutting in quite some time - a few years actually.  But in the last few months I've gone through a rough patch and lopped off actual inches - a few times.  Thankfully, curly hair has turned out to be my friend.  Turns out that it can cover a multitude of hair cutting sins.

I understand that control is mostly an illusion and that how we respond to challenges and obstacles in our days make all the difference in our outlook. This is something I know from years of experience.  Yet now and then, in weak moments,I let go of letting go, instead reacting in ways that bring no benefit and sometimes, even more chaos.  Fortunately, it's only hair.  Mine grows fast. 

I recently read on Zenhabits, a blog that I like, “When we are in the midst of chaos, let go of the need to control it. Be awash in it, experience it in that moment, try not to control the outcome but deal with the flow as it comes.”  ~Leo Babuta.  That makes sense to me.  

THE PLAYGROUND

On and off throughout my adult life I’ve gone back to hang around the old metaphorical playground. You know the one…It’s in your head.  It consists of memories and scenarios from earlier years.  It seems to be my own special brand of self-torture.  My crack, as it were.  You see, I have a lot of memories.  You do too.  The difference, if there is one, is that I tend to go back and play with mine.  More often than is good for me. The bad ones; and there were a whole lot of bad ones, the good ones, and the ones in between – let’s call them the events – things that, although not terrible, I wish had turned out differently.  I’m an equal opportunity sadist.  I give almost equal time to the bad memories and the events.   I think about the good ones too, but they don’t need a different outcome so I don’t have to spend as much time on them.  So, I go to the other ones because you know…maybe I can change the outcome?  Yes, I said that.

I don’t really believe that….not the intelligent woman of the world part of me.  It’s that other insecure  ego   character lurking around in here.   She’s always blowing things.  There’s nothing Zen about that one.

The good news is that I’m making new memories all the time.  I have a great husband and family and things are pretty good.  The bad news is that I’ll probably be trying to fix these new memories sometime in the future as they add up on my “broken” pile.   If you’re so busy with your past, you’re bound to be screwing things up in the present that you will be sorry for later.  See what I mean?  Who let the dogs out for God’s sake?  It’s almost like I’ve got to keep f’ing things up so I won’t run out of things that can’t be fixed.   Such is the crazy train on which I ride.

I've noticed that time and its passage seem to be a theme in many of my posts so I suppose it is a big issue for me.  I don’t do the playground thing all of the time.  It comes and goes with no particular rhyme or reason.  It seems to be an obsession that materializes every so often - an indulgence that bears no fruit.  And when it happens, I have a very difficult time letting go.  But eventually I do.  For awhile. 

CHASING TRUTH

"The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."  ~Oscar Wilde

"The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off."  ~Gloria Steinem

I decided long ago that blind faith is not where it’s at – that everything is open to investigation and if questions arise, not only should I search out the answers, but more importantly, I should ask the questions – oftentimes, out loud.   I determined that I would allow my discoveries to shine the light on the very essence of my being and allow new truths to upset the apple cart of my fixed beliefs.  I knew I would not fall apart.  And guess what?  I didn't.

However, I've alienated friends and acquaintances over the years. That makes me sad.  I wish it were not that way.   But the truth is throughout history there have been people who took an unpopular stance within their circles.  They changed.  They veered away from the status quo of their groups.  The changes in them made people angry…and perhaps scared.  It is hard to be around someone whose transformations threaten the hub upon which your life is built. 

It is frightening to face the dissolution of a core belief.  And so, even in the face of overwhelming evidence, many people will cling to them because the are the bedrock and center of their lives and their loss is unthinkable.  But I've found that releasing beliefs that don't work or make sense is freedom, albeit frightening at first.  I've been through it.  Once you let go of the fear, the freedom is incredible...the freedom to search out truth.  And that's how we were made.

I've never really become accustomed to the evaporation of relationships.  And though at times with some relationships, I've actually felt relief, I'm mostly just sad.

The Great Escape

My daughter posted The Great Escape, a song by Pink on her brother's Facebook page.  It's very beautiful. I weep every time I hear it.  There's a story here that I won't go into.

Oddly, I felt a bit left out.  That's okay.

They are so beautiful....

The Great Escape

INVISIBLE

"I sent my soul through the invisible,
some letter of that afterlife to spell;
and by and by my soul returned to me,
and answered, "I myself am Heav'n and Hell""

~Omar Khayyam

Can you see me? I'm invisible.

THREADS

Every time we lose someone, whether it is through death, disagreement, or otherwise, a thread comes loose from the fabric of our lives. Sometimes it’s a small thread. We patch it up and go on. Other times it’s a larger thread and the whole fabric feels different for a while – more slack and thus, more fragile. If too many come loose in a short period of time, we find ourselves slipping apart and struggling to regain the tension that makes our fabric / life work. It’s a strange thing. Worst of all is when a central thread is taken, like a mother, father, child, sibling or close family member. Now the fabric has changed, irreparably it seems at the time, and we have to figure out how to proceed.

I lost my Aunt Kathleen whose namesake I am - my mother’s older sister. I’ve loved her dearly since I was a very small child. She lived in Scotland where the family was born and raised and where all of my mother's family was during my childhood. I haven’t spent a lot of time with her. She’s been to the states maybe 5 or 6 times. I’ve been to Scotland two times up until now. But she always kept in touch, always made me feel special and like I was part of her family. As a child, whenever she’d leave to go back to Scotland, or when I’d leave Scotland with my mother to come home, I’d cry hysterically, devastated at the looming separation. I think that baffled both my aunt and my mother.

When my mother was dying, I spoke with Aunty Kathleen almost daily. In the past 7 years since mom’s death, I’ve spoken with her nearly every month. Knowing she was there offered a bit of my mother…and a family to which I belonged. She died suddenly from a fall a few weeks ago at the age of 88, still healthy and vibrant.

I flew to Scotland for her funeral the first week of December and was so thankful I was able to go. But I’m home now and suddenly realizing the loss. A very big thread for so many reasons and I’m keenly aware of the slack in my fabric.

Being in Scotland, the place where she lived – the place of my mother’s birth and the place where most of her family still dwells was an enormous experience. I was there only 5 days but in that small space and time, I was a part of a family – a thread in the fabric, experiencing each moment with my cousins and family friends. It was a feeling and experience that I’ve longed for – I think for most of my life. I feel homesick for Scotland and for my cousins whom I barely know. And I understand that if I went back in 6 months or next year, it would be different - everyone has their own lives to attend to. Those 5 days were special because we were enmeshed with the glue that was our love and respect for our dear aunt and we shared that time together to honor her and remember how special she was in each of our lives. It bound us together as a family and was, at least for me, a very precious time.  She would have been so pleased.

As for me, I will keep in touch with my dear Scottish family always.  And someday, I’ll go back again. In the meantime, I will pull taut the fabric of my life, remembering where and from whom I’ve come.

GHOSTS APPEAR

I keep going back,
searching, looking….for something I can’t find.
Nothing but an empty field now,
outlined by brand new curbs
a framework of what once was.

The street that once claimed 100 homes -
a community diverse – Italian, Polish, African American, Mexican, Irish;
different accents, faint voices – now long gone;
grandparents now settled in their graves,
kids grown and off to new spaces. 

I keep going back...
gazing at the spot where the childhood home stood,
nothing reminiscent of my time there save an old tree or two.
The carcass of a school playground and
the old church at the corner
the remaining vestiges
of childhood play.
Still I see everything,
silhouettes that materialize for a moment
evaporating before I get too close -
achingly near, but just out of reach.

I keep going back,
bits and pieces of the past...
Mr. Scavone's pigeons
whose ancestors search for bread
now at new locales.
Elderly crone, the old lady Woods,
neighborhood witch,
taunted by merry pranksters
secretly afraid,
now haunts only in memories
of the aging adult child.

I keep going back
as if I’ll find it this time -
this thing I cannot name
that haunts me with promises
of a rendezvous that can’t occur…
striving to find moments long past
or perhaps,
just something or someone to remember me back…

Still I go back time and again,
searching the unsearchable,
leaving empty, unfulfilled.
Looking for something I’ll never find
except in transient moments in my head.

Ghosts appear and fade away….

THINGS THAT ARE

If you’re human, every so often a realization hits you or your paradigm gets shifted.  It happens when a small fissure of light cracks the through a hard surface where a new truth dwells.  When it occurs you have a choice – a split second where you can choose to freefall into that light and explore the new knowledge or rapidly blink it away and then it’s gone.  Nothing has changed and you’re none the worse...or so you think.

I believe it happens time and again to most of us.  Often we avoid the tiny splinter of light because somehow we know it will change us and that can be scary.  And it’s a lot of work too.  We have to examine it and try it on. It may feel tight and restrictive or it may not fit well with the rest of our intellectual wardrobe.  So we let it go and assume that we know enough of the truth to get by. 

As for me, at times I have boldly stepped through and looked at the “thing that is” squarely and honestly and have acknowledged it, allowing the restructure of my perceptions.  It can hurt a bit at first.  And it’s troublesome, illuminating new reality and shining light on the other pieces of my paradigm that are skewed and need to be modified. 

Still, other times I’ve blinked my eyes back into focus on what I already know and believe. I’m comfortable with it and I don’t want the disruption to my reality - one that already sounds good in my head. So sadly, for that time being, it’s gone.

I like to think that I am more the freefall type at least most of the time. I like to think that I become more so as time goes on in my life. I’m open, involved, free-thinking, passionate and compassionate. Yet I’m amazed with the realization that occasionally, I still do the psychological two-step with my rational mind, hanging on to obtuse beliefs and feel-good philosophies regarding peace, love and the brotherhood of man.

I'm not saying that the idea of peace and brotherhood are foolish notions -rather, and obviously, that they are not easily achieved. They require hard work and commitment on the part of men, religions and governments. In the smaller spectrum, they entail listening to others and opening oneself up to different realities.  They involve letting go of everything you think you know to look at reality through another’s eyes.  Most of all, they require plummeting in to the light of truth when it presents itself and exploring with candor and courage the things that are.

CRITICAL MASS

I'm tired of critical people.

You know the ones.

They disapprove of your lifestyle,

spiritual choices or seeming lack thereof,

political tendencies

and maybe even the way you speak, act and look.

If they don't agree with you,
they tune you out
then talk about you behind your back.
Anything you do
and any change you make in your life
is suspect in their eyes.

They don't understand you and make no attempt to try.
You're wierd, deceived
phony, crazy, angry or bitchy.
You're not enough of this and you're too much of that
and they let you know you've become unacceptable
in subtle and passive aggresive ways,
all the while wearing their bright white facades.

I'm tired of critical people -
Those with whom I'm unable to be myself.
Those who for a moment cause me to doubt myself
and seeing myself through their eyes,
believe I'm unacceptable.

I'm tired of critical people
who claim to have all of the truth
tied in a neat package with a bow,
who don't need to know even one more thing -
so complete is their truth.
Who stand in judgement of every one
with whom they disagree;
Who cannot sacrifice themselves
for a bit of kindness for an idea, thought or person
that is different from them.

I'm tired of critical people
who cannot open their eyes, hearts or minds.
Who can't concieve of things being different
than what they see right now.
Who can't accept those that are different
in any way from what they consider the norm.

I'm tired of critical people
whose critical natures are self-sustaining
and perpetrate more and more negative energy
among themselves and their kind.

I'm tired of allowing critical people

inside my head...

to make me critical

of myself and of them.

SLEEP STUDY, WHAT?

I'm going for a sleep study tonight.  That's where someone I do not not know studies me -  sleeping...kind of.

It's my second one.  I had my first one about six years ago.  At the time, I was constantly exhausted.  I couldn't drive in the car for more than half an hour without feeling like dozing.  My eyelids were a light purple color - very attractive. 

My husband had noticed my sleep apnea long ago.  He said that sometimes I would quit breathing for close to a minute which of course alarmed him to no end.  Finally, when I got sick of being tired and tired of listening to him and my doctor go on about my sleep issues, I agreed to go for the study. 

It was weird.  They hook you up all over the place.  I mean your head, face, arms, legs and chest.  Then, about the time you feel really uncomfortable, they tell you you can go to sleep when you're ready. 

Ready?.....I have wires all over me stuck to my body with sticky goop that will probably never come off.  A complete  and total stranger is sitting in another room monitoring my snoring and sputtering and eyelid movement the entire night.  Sure, no problem.  You bet! I can sleep.  And I did...sort of.  I was told in the morning that my sleep was disturbed 341 times in a six-hour period. 

Holy Toledo!  No wonder I was so tired.  So they fix you up with a C-pap - a machine that forces air into your nose and prevents the soft tissue in your throat from closing.  And it works!  It has done wonders for me. 

So, that's what I'm doing tonight.  I guess you're supposed to have the study redone every two years or so in case the air pressure in your C-pap needs to be adjusted. Or, if you really need a night of discomfort and self-consciousness.  And really, who doesn't?   

Truthfully, I will say that if you have sleep apnea, do something about it.  Because it's dangerous for one thing.  And you'll realize that you felt like shit for years without even knowing it.  And then you'll feel so much better you'll be like "wow, how did I function before C-pap?" 

My evening of torture begins at 8:00 pm.  I'll be outa there by 5:30 am.  Piece of cake!

"BIRDIES" For Abby

Our little Abby loves when we sing to her.  And she likes to sing herself, but she's a little shy.  I go through a whole repetoire of songs when she's at my house.  I made this one up on Saturday morning. She had me sing it at least 12 times.  It was a hit!  Who knew I had such talent?

I love being a grandma!

Birdies fly high....high in the sky,

They use their wings to fly, fly, fly.

Birdies fly high....high in the sky,

They use their wings to fly, fly, fly.

Birdies in trees, say tweet tweet.

They're looking for buggies to eat, eat, eat.

Birdies in trees, say tweet tweet.

They watch for good buggies to eat, eat, eat.

GUILT TRIP

Ring….ring….    Good afternoon! Queen of guilt trips speaking. Our special today includes our sizzling crispy guilt-trip burger with a side of our seasoned curly guilt fries and a large ice cold I told you so. Can I take your order?

I’ve been told recently by someone close that I’m the queen of guilt trips.  This was quite a slap in the face to me.

My mama was the Irish version of a Jewish mother when it came to guilt-trips. She was a handful - long story.

Anyway, I’ve made it my mission in the last 15 years or so to avoid making people, especially my children, feel bound by guilt. I often think I go overboard and forgo saying things when they need to be said out of fear that I will cause guilt or shame.  But I also think that like everyone, I may do some things without even realizing it.  I don't want to be the "you neva caull me" mother. 

So, I’m bummed. I didn’t see that coming.

Oy vey, they think I'm meshuganah! Now I've got shpilkes in the Geneckteckessoink and I'm feeling verklempt…

MA WEE MAMMY

My mammy was born in Scotland but we're Irish by ancestry.  My grandparents both moved from Ireland to Scotland and raised their family there. 

The Scottish have a brilliant way with words.  It was never dull at "oor hoose."  These are some of the sayings I grew up with (said with a thick Scottish accent):

If you die wi a face like that, no one'll wash it.

Someone just walked over ma grave.

Look at you, hanging around like a knotless thread!

I feel like the wreck o' the Hesparus.

Quite yer greitin! (crying)

If you cry on yer birthday, you'll be cryin' all year.

If he was chocolate, he'd eat himself!

Quit yer blethering.

Och, yer a good wee girl!

Och, yer a cheeky wee bitch.

Och, ya wee bugger

You're daft!

You'll have a sore bahooky if ye don't stop.

Wash yer oaksters (armpits).

Och, yer a lovely wee lassie.

I miss ma mammy...

I'm goin' hame.

Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!