Sunday, March 25, 2007

We Reap What We Sow!

Nothing teaches us more about life then nature, it is the ultimate reflection of our existence. Gardening in particular had become my solitude. There in the garden you are one with your surroundings. Everything can be seen through the success and failure of you “reap what you sow“. Maintaining a clean area, continuing attention to the soil needs . The implementing of nutrients with the correct amount of sun and water provide us with the ultimate of beauty. Yet we see that some thing’s are out of our hands, to much rain, not enough sun, violent storms, an occasional late frost, many things can alter our success at the end of the growing season. It is a on going lesson, that tells us when we need to step up our efforts and when we need to step back and absorb the beauty of hard work. It is this balance in nature that we allow into our being. We are merely human and we are very susceptible to the conditions in which we grow. Our
vulnerabilities are based on the circumstances with which we must face. How we survive illness, financial situations and the unexpected is continuant on our own mental well being. The ability to handle stress varies amongst us, we need to reach out to one other, support each other and love each other. For all of us will meet up with the storms in life at one time or another. It’s how we stand strong through those storms, that separates those who fall and those who survive and gain enough strength to rise above the current storms.




When I went was a child our Sunday teacher taught us
the moral of gardening, sometimes we need to be reminded.

Plant peas:
1. Peace of mind
2. Peace of heart
3. Peace of soul


Plant squash:
1. Squash gossip (talking about other people in a mean way)
2. Squash grumbling
3. Squash selfishness


Plant lettuce:
1. Let us be faithful
2. Let us be kind
3. Let us be patient
6. Let us be meek and humble

Plant beets:
1. Beat down pride
2. Beat down ignorance
3. Beat down envy
4. Beat down hatred

Plant carrots:
1. Your Bible - carry it to church
2. Love - carry it with you everywhere
3. Faith - carry it with you in times of trouble
4. Joy - carry it with you in your heart

Plant Thyme:
1. Time for Jesus
2. Time for family
3. Time for each other

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Live and Let Live

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History proves there are no winners in a war. Looking back at the civil wars and some of the worst world wars, I asked myself “what was gained?” I shed many tears not for myself, but for mankind. How can people be so intelligent and so ignorant? Yet wars are so ever close to home, the social war that effects our children daily, drugs, alcohol, mental health. We fight to maintain freedom and to keep our youth out of the hands of tyranny.



I thought back to my teenage years and the Vietnam war. Many of our friends including my brother was drafted. I remember this one particular soldier who was a P.O.W. I purchased the bracelet to support the search for the lost soldiers and Srgt. William Powell was the soldiers whose name was on my bracelet. I searched for many years to see if he ever was found. Not until computers was I able to find the information. Srgt. William Powell was not one of the lucky ones he never made it back alive.

I do understand like a lioness who protects her cubs that if we are being attacked we have to protect those we love and defend ourselves. The question is are the reasons that people and countries choose to attack have any merit?

I use to paint the same picture when I was a little girl, each day I couldn’t wait to get to school and have my turn on the easel. Every day I would paint the identical picture with snowflakes falling down. The only difference between the paintings was the color of the snow, each day the snow was a different color, except for this one day it was rainbow. My third grade teacher wasn’t to impressed and failed me in Art. I laugh as I look back and think about getting an E in art. Though now as a adult, I can see that the varied colors represented the confusion in life, each color represented a emotion, Yellow snow was sunshine, blue a fair day and black a really bad day, a colorful rainbow was a mixture of emotion. It is clear that life isn’t always black and white, sometimes we do have to add a little color. There is way more to life, then a simple yes or no.

I remember thinking that we and I mean that as a whole the world as one would have advanced further in education more and less in violence. I had prayed that we would never see hand to hand combat or have men and women die for causes that are so gray in nature.

Is war truly about man fighting man? Or is there a much stronger evil that gains strength with ignorance. If you scan over the cause of war, you find that most of the reasons are of greed, religion and land or just plain pure evil.



"The hawk perched awaiting its prey, allowed me relatively close as it did not appear afraid. You have to appreciate its stance in the chain as it only kills what it needs to sustain, it doesn’t fight for money, religion or for land. There is a lot to be taught to the angered man. Natures natural selection is survival of the strong. I think as a people we are doing something wrong. "copyright 2005

There is no doubt in my mind where there is good there is evil. How else could we explain mans hatred for man, that people are willing to kill innocent people. My heart breaks for those who cannot see through my eyes. I have been told that it is naive to believe of a world of unity where respect for one another flourishes, where people can appreciate the differences and come together as one to better mankind. I liked to disagree, there are more good in the world and
some day we will unify.

My mother worked in a hospital, as she was assigned to the terminal ward she told stories of those who said they were atheist , she said there last dying words were “Oh God help me.” I always told my children that who ever first translated the bible they made a great error on two world God = Good and the Devil = Evil from the beginning of time Good and evil existed. We were given something special, a mind to reason and hands to perform. Life is about one thing and one thing only that is choice, for each of us on this earth have been the gift of choice.

I am saddened not for myself but for the future of my children, as far as man has come, he has not come far at all. Yet I know it is human nature the defense mechanism. If someone would dare to hurt my children I wouldn’t hesitate to defend them.

My daughter raised rats and there was truly a lot we learned from them. We learned that certain colors were more dominate and others carried a more violent gene. We saw that when the mother thought her babies were endanger, the once calm rat became hostile. We found that others were naturally calmer and made better pets, some smarter others more active.
Could some day genetic selective engineering, delete the hostile irrational gene from the human blood line? Could the paradise we dream of exist? Where the world works together to rid the darkness. How simple a statement “live and let live”.

One tear for every life that has fallen at the door of hell.


Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Dancing with the Angel of Darkness.....

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One tear fallen for those I'll not chance to meet,
another for those I have and lost.

When Tragedy comes to visit.

The Violin played was melodic music to the ears, but it was the
hands of fate that played me throughout the years...........




A potential client was screening my thoughts on Suicide, he went on to tell me of a couple who had one son at war and another son who recently hung himself. “What is your view of suicide and where do you stand? he asked." My first thought was it was a cowards way out and then I reviewed out loud how diverse mental health issues are. His request was that I write for the couple and the loss and love of their two sons. He said how will you know what I want to say or how I feel. I replied from our discussion and if you have any thoughts, jot them down. The next week he delivered this whole letter which seem like a honor for the son who had commit suicide. I usually give clients two rough drafts and allow them to choose. I felt very strongly that this was different. This project I was working on was to honor these people as parents and human beings. I knew that if I were in that position I would have a weight of guilt, first I needed to relieve them of the heavy weight "the burden of guilt. "

I started writing to the graphics, “ Nothing Separates the bond between parent and child, it is eternal even at the time of death. “ Then moved on to write about their achievements. When it was finished, my client paid me twice my asking price, he said you are very in touch with what they are feeling. I replied, I have had experience, been down this road before. Different stories the same emotions. We are after all human!
.
It jarred thoughts of how close suicide was to my own family and the scars it leaves or maybe its the negative lesson of an “easy way out.” I never had a chance to know my grandfather, though I heard of him. He was a professor of music and he had a great love for the future. He was the first on the block to own a car and a television. But he will always be remembered for his love of the violin. I guess that is partly where our love for music came from. All of us girls played the violin, but my older sisters both played concert and could get down and fiddle.Grandfather had been stricken with ear problems it had developed into mastoid ears. Medical technology not as advanced at the time, grandfather was going deaf.

Standing in the graveyard reading over his gravestone, my mind chased over the stories to try and clarify what had truly happen. He was not in the section where family was buried. Grandfather had chose to end his life. In the 1940’s suicide was so frowned upon by the church that he was forbidden to be buried on sacred grounds. He was in the section they called “lost sinners.” The story my mother told us what that he couldn’t live with going deaf, though my great aunt told me the dirty little secrets of a marriage gone bad. My grandparents had separated and grandmother was filing for divorce. Depends who tells the story, which version you hear. At this point that mattered very little, the black mark against the family would become a string of an unwanted legacy.

My mother was extremely close with her father and had prepared right before his death to move in with my great aunt and her father. She stopped into check on him as she always did and he wasn’t in the kitchen, calling“ come here princess” . She went down to the garage and there in his pride and joy, his 1945 Ford was her father, unconscious, cold. Grandfather had connected a hose from the exhaust into the cab of the car, closed his eyes and gone to sleep forever.Was grandfather depressed ? I am sure he was! Physically in pain? that too, heart broken, yes I think the fear of loneliness is more than many can bare.

Unfortunately the scars left behind from such a emotional experience seems to seed insecurities and a poor view of self worth, as well as give few alternatives to problems in life. My mother never really got over the loss of her father. She lived with a lot of what if. What if, they had the medication at the time to cure, what if he would have accepted surgery, what if they would have accepted his sisters invitation to move in with her, what if grandmother didn't want a divorce.

Mother’s life was far from perfect, her and my father had a physical spark between them but little else in common. Mother’s education exceeded his by leaps and bounds. But as life is very vulnerable for us all, we cannot put ourselves on a pedestal.Simply, because we do not know what we would do “ unless we walked a mile in their shoes” Mother repeatedly tried to take her life and her failed attempts baffled me. It seem like each generation had one who would come to close to walking in grandfathers foot steps.

My brother was engaged to be married, her parents wanted the marriage called off and at one point it was. My brother was devastated, he took my mothers pill from the shelf and went to my grandmothers and wrote a note, I cannot and will not live without her. Grandmother found him unconscious and had him rushed to the hospital where they pumped his stomach.

I feared how close would this sickness come to my own children or my own family. Overly cautious, I listened and talked as my children worked through the trial and err of life. If nothing I wanted them to know I was here, that there are options, that someone cares and loves them. I wanted them to know that I know about heartbreak and love and that they will survive and the heart will heal. That life will go on , but more importantly how saddened the world would be without them. How saddened I would be without them. I have been fortunate as far as motherhood goes. I say it is true “God only gives us as much as we can handle.” Though a few times I have said " Don't push it God"

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Rainy day Sundays

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The simplicity of childhood thoughts, as adults we try to jump over the rain puddles, as a child we jumped into them in appreciation of the magic of a summer rain. Raising children in such a technological world are they missing the magic of imagination? Simple joys have been replaced, by television and video games. How will the children of today view their childhood as they look back? Speaking with other older people, I realized that so few children played in the rain, It was those children who had the least who appreciated the most. They are rarely selfish or greedy and they see the beauty in the world even as adults through child
like eyes.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

new york

Dedicated to Gazie where ever you are...I love You!

Sisters

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Music sets the mood or soothes the savage beast. In our home if our parents were playing music all was right with the world. Sometimes I think I am grasping as I try to remember the good times that were so sparse through out our lives. Music has been truly a comfort, entertainment and a complete joy. We were limited to what we were allowed to listen to at home. I can remember my second born sister rebelling and bringing home records that played, spunky upbeat rock and rhythm and blues. My father was furious with her. Many styles of music were not allowed or played in our household. As we reached out to the world we found a whole new place was waiting.

The last time the four of us girls were together was over twenty years ago, but the day stands out in my mind, maybe because some one video taped the event. Arm and arm we danced to New York New York. It was a special moment like being children all over again. It seems that when were together we could be ourselves and there was this magic about it all, we didn't talk about what went on in our lives we lived it and though each of us viewed it just a bit different, we all knew each of us was effected.

Somehow each of us came away with a love for a more simple way of life, we all loved to garden and animals and the magic of music and song. Until we all meet in the clouds, heres, to New York, New York..

Friday, March 9, 2007

Singing in the Rain clip

I'm singing in the rain....... you always did the greatest
da da da das.
I'll never see the rain the same way again... each raindrop

Thursday, March 8, 2007

Crystal Ball

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If we could see the future, would we change our ways?

A crystal ball within my hands, no future does it tell,
the stories of yesterday, were hidden behind a hardened shell.
Blowing in the wind of a unpredictable March day,
the rains have washed away the hell and a
new seed in growth remained.







Plaid Skirts


When my eldest sister turned sixteen she fought for and won minor emancipation, a right to care for herself. Father was angry, he called her a traitor to the family. We were forbidden to speak with her and he would say she is to dead to us. I was eight years old when she left, I didn’t see her much and those years are a bit fuzzy as at times they were not pleasant in nature. Moving around from house to house , person to person. so very little stability.

Time passed and I was in seventh grade, I was in a class that had to be taken at another school as the class I signed up for wasn’t offered at the private school. My eldest sister lived not far from vo tech school and I would sneak to her apartment to have lunch. She took me shopping and bought me my first grown up clothes, that were not hand me downs. Getting them into the house is another story. I can remember the outfit, down to the very colors actually I saved the sweater, call me sentimental or some might say I’m a disorganized pack rat. The plaid skirt had the brass pin that was so common to that era, and the wool fabric was a blend of pink , purple and green, the blouse was silky in a coordinating pink, the sweater was a wool button up with silver buttons. Panty hose hadn’t come around yet and they still sold stockings. It was the very first time I would have my own stockings, she bought me this floral panty garter belt and matching bra. I felt so grown up.


I said that I was fortunate or is it that I knew how to walk on egg shells better then anyone in our house. Actually there were two reasons my father did beat me, one he thought I was weak and couldn’t handle it as he said to me many times that I was the weak child. and the other reason was I became the ultimate pleaser When he found out that I had spoken with my sister he had become furious , so angry so quick he raised his hand and swung across my face, you have joined the traitor. From that point on it was very different. I knew that fear would touch much closer to home. I know it’s not like the extremes, that I saw threw the cracks in the door or the sounds I heard as I place my ear to floor vents. This was different, he was angry with me. I was afraid and we were out in public when it happen and so it didn’t escalate. But if he could be so angry on a street corner what would he do if he found out I took the clothes. I was so afraid to wear the, I hid them for months, I would bring out once piece at a time so as not bring attention, by the time, I found the courage to wear it the skirt was to short, the blouse gaped open at the bust line and I still proudly put it on and wore it to school.

This person father called a traitor, was family, how could he do this, how could he forbid us to speak to the person who cared me in my younger years? The sister who made sure we were dressed and fed and cleaned, who was a more a mother in many ways then my own mother.I was growing up, father hated that more then anything, there was a certain amount of control lost when we all started to grow up. We were reaching out more, exploring the world around us. It was evident that what we were experiencing was far from the norm.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

SEE THE FUNNY LITTLE CLOWN

I thought when I was younger that this song was written for me. I found that in the most difficult situations I would laugh, even if it meant putting myself forward as a joke. I know so many people who use laughter to over come sadness. It's in our travel luggage called survival.
"See the funny clown as she goes by...."

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

Peace Of Mind

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As I spoke with a friend about life and the problems of the world. He said we can’t fix them all and there are so many causes for the heartache. He said it is impossible to find the answers for them all and the negativity will bog u down. It is true that “ one grain
of sand does not build mountains .” I thought about my own internal response to life and the stress that each of us are met with. What brings the inner balance, what I call “Peace of Mind” I had written this some time back and I think it is the greatest gift we can give ourselves.

Peace of mind”
I had many times questioned on what initializes happiness. How can we maintain a plateau within our own minds that appreciates the moment of a day? Stress played a significant part in how we handle life. There is a certain amount of personal control that must be addressed. Maintaining goals which realistically can be met. Preparing for the unexpected and accepting who we are and where our life is leading.

The old adages that are so repetitively quoted , originated from the trail and err of many generations before us “ the grass is always greener” and “ the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” To first know what “Peace of Mind “ is , one must know what it’s like not to have just that “peace of mind.” Just how we handle the unexpected intensifies when we confront issues where the answers are not as evident.

Life and the living of life will always predispose us to the unknown and this stimulates the vulnerabilities that rest within each of us. There is a on going list that we can’t alter , sickness, accidents, loss of jobs etc, all these can so morph the state of mental peace within ones own internal being. This always takes us back to choices...The freedom to make choices is sometimes muddle by the fact that rarely is one life not some how dependent upon another ..

A social creature , we are always looking for a certain amount of acceptance , approval or praise. We identify ourselves on a social level by the clothes we wear, where we choose to live and our outward opinions. In many instances it is the classifying of a people. Separating the general populace by a fashion or verbal appearance, styles of music etc . Many people have given this power over their lives, allowing it to have such importance that it controls their own choices.

Preparation is the key of ones success ..like a detailed outline that prepares us for the old adage “ what can happen, will” or “Murphy’s law”. When partnered on a unbalanced level, it is almost impossible for each to understand what has prepped each individual for life. A emotional tired at a young age made me quite aware of the consequences of poor choices and not standing firm with ones own beliefs.

Peace of mind.. when you can lay your head on the pillow and justify your actions of the day, live within your means and accept what comes your way. When you can substantiate that your dreams are real and controlled by no other then but by your own hearts will. When you can accept the differences that meet at the cross road of life and realize the choices are not one of strife. Then you have met with “Peace of mind” and a rest there will be, when you lay your head upon the pillow and can peacefully be free.

The Shoulder



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The most complicated and diverse aspect of life is the emotion of love. Difficult as it is to understand in others, even more confusing when you try to analyze your own thought process. My mind bouncing around, as the past, the present and the future danced on the same stage. I traveled a mountain of emotion, and felt the toying of being caught in a game of connect the dots. Somehow, there is this connection that binds it all together. I have quoted, "you don't know what you have until you have lost it", I do know what I have and I am ever grateful for the each moment in the day, you have come to my insane rescue.

Our friendship was the ultimate shoulder, there has been so much written about “ the shoulder” . Friendship, romance , the strength and the comfort. Songs boast of it.. singing,” put your head my shoulder.. whisper in my ear baby“...It’s remarkable the interpretation of words and what they mean to people. To me “ the shoulder” represents confidence in another, that your willing to share conversations , enjoy a moment , view the sunrise and erase all your troubles. It represents the essential ingredient trust in another. A shoulder gentle enough to dry away the tears , strong enough to listen and willing enough to care. Who could ask for more. I have rested my head on your shoulder, you have dried the tears and a moment enjoyed.

Monday, March 5, 2007

Daisy

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Odd how the minds works, and what we choose to remember. When we were children we were split from each other for sometime. I was sent to live with a Aunt. If I close my eyes I can see every room in her house. She never had children and everything was perfect. I know I must have ate and slept but I have no recall of it. She took me shopping once, and I can remember the details of the shop, from the moment I entered the door. We attended church and I remember one Particular day where we stayed for a afternoon church social. It was winter and the holiday season was approaching,. Inside many strangers and each child was given a gift. I can recall the gift down to every detail, it was a box that contained a paper doll, it had magnet clothes that slid on andoff.

It felt so lonely with out my sisters, my eldest sister and I had a very close bond and I can remember glancing out the window as the snow fell and wondering where they were. It was a quiet time and I remember doing a lot of day dreaming.

Most of the time I felt privileged to have had s o many wonderful people cross my path, people who gave to me a exterior view of the world. One woman who stands out in my mind was head of a youth group department. She was tall and lanky or was it I was so petite? I think it was a bit of both she was so tall and I was so little. I can so vividly see the smile on her face and her hair was white, curled and always nicely cared for. She was as graceful as the swan down at the park pond. Her voice was gentle and soft and she spoke lightly never raising it higher. It was a big celebration at the youth group and they were having a doll show, she asked if I was bringing one in. She said you must have a doll? I had this one old baby doll that was passed down from my sisters. None of them liked them, but the doll was perfect it was my imaginary world , someone I could talk to and they listened. The doll had tightly woven brown hair short and tight, green eyes and chubby cheeks.

Several blocks from the youth center, I walked back to the house to get the baby doll. She was dressed in tattered, old baby clothes. I wiped her face and cleaned her up and took her back for the judging. I walked into a very large room and there were the most beautiful dolls I had ever seen in my life. I wanted to hide the dolly and Daisy, that was her name, took the doll from my hands and said now isn’t that beautiful and placed it in the category most realistic and well loved baby.

The youth group was run very tight ship, you were scheduled for exercise classed each day and sewing and , you could pick a alternate class as well. In the school yard everyone was dressed in a blue gym suits, white socks and tennis shoes. My elder sisters were out there easy to spot them as they always had red long tights on to cover the bruising.

Judging was going on inside, as we finished up our classes and I remember walking in and my eyes roaming to the dolly, she had this big old ribbon attached to her, that said first place. Many lessons came from that day, I was so happy and so excited as I silently looked at her sitting on the table amongst the fanciest of dolls.

I call it a privilege through out my life to have met and known some of the kindest people who walked this earth. Daisy was one of the many people I came to admire and respect and hoped to emulate.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

When Children Cry

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To My Dear Friend, Butterflies are Free!

Fear the tool of the abuser


Fear_a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.

In most abusive situations the tool of fear is used to retain, control, undermine, set the seed of insecurity, over the top discipline, domination and manipulation. Is this a pack like trait that humans have not quite evolved away from? I believe most abusers know they are abusing and they know it is unacceptable to the main stream of society. So goes the old adage " what goes on in the home stays in the home."

There was such a anxiety when it came to strangers. We weren't allowed visitors nor friends in our home. The phone was off limits and in many ways the seeds of fear were deeply ingrained. My father was very aware that our home life was far from the norm and in today's standards
he would have been imprisoned. It wasn't that at times, red flags weren't there , they were. My youngest sister and I were in a private school, it was the early seventy's a very transitional time in history. My youngest sister wasn't flourishing, she rebelled in violent and socially unacceptable way. School was aware something was wrong, seriously wrong.. A letter was sent home asking permission for her to talk with a school appointed psychologist. That was one hellish day at our house of course my parents refused to sign the papers and In turn pulled her out of the school and placed her in the public school system. In the public school system she had gone unnoticed. She dropped out of main stream school and was placed in a alternative learning environment. Sixteen she was on her own, and learning more about the streets then any teenager needs to. The bullet scars in her leg, measures little to the scars to her spirit. She became cold and distant. She fulfilled mothers predestined view of her and became self destructive, drugs, alcohol, prostitution and very ugly inside and hateful. She soon learned to manipulate and gain status, but the scars of hell can not be cleansed from her soul.

We lost contact for many years as her life spiraled downward. There was a point where the sister bond was crossed, as you had to begin to look out for
.

Vulnerable

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A friend just contacted me, he lost his wife to cancer. When I was younger I heard the older folks say “ when your number is us, it’s up” I thought how vulnerable that makes us, that many things in life including death were very much out of our control.


It’s not that I dwell, but at times when you least expect it, something, a word, a song, will jar the memory. My mind flashed from my sister laying in the casket and the floral outfit I bought for her to be laid out in, to the last song I heard her sing. The song was called “ treat her gently” and a couple of stanza's in the lyrics stood out in my mind. “ Here we sit, two lonely old people, rocking our life away” how ironic was it that she loved to sing that song, but never would get the experience of watching her children grow and flourish and sit and rock her grandchildren on her lap.

I had read a book some time back a “ conversation with God” and in it I came away with the fact that most things in life is based on choice. Whether we are here a day or thirty years, we have a choice how we will live it.It made me question my own vulnerability and what my purpose on earth was, what would be my legacy? I have quoted many times, that “ I would rather live to be thirty then exist to be a hundred.”

How much in life did fate play and how much was based on choices? I looked around the room, and I saw my restlessness with life. I had felt the bars of the hollow close in on me, to only find that the bars existed in my mind. One by one, I have challenged that which I cannot see, to seek a better understanding of the short time we have on earth.

Abuse

In a domestic war, the battle is the sin and there are no winners!

Saturday, March 3, 2007

Angels

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I shan't forget, the kindness of angels, as far away as mountain
tops and ever
close as a bee to the hive. When the grip of reality
uncomfortably
takes control, your soft inner wings, so gentle I hold.


I'm afraid of letting go...the ashes weigh heavily on my dreams


In my travels, it became ever clearer to me that each of us was dealing with our own personal demons, some more then others. What separates one person from another? Their ability to deal with stress, to let go of the past and to move on. The more we allowed the flames of hell to burn in our hearts, the heavier the weight of ashes.




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Children of the World

We cannot rewrite the past,
for it is deeply ingrained in all of us.

As darkness falls and our vulnerability
glares, we have but one choice.

The light of awareness shines through
the soul, to cast a new vision.

A weeping heart, a troubled mind,
the sadness of memory and a
curtain call.

The power of nature, the seeds of hell,
not of fate, the story we tell.

Meaningless are words untold, the
power of action is what we hold.
~~~

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In you I see myself, in myself I see the world.


Domestic Abuse

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Domestic abuse is a revolving door...
it goes round and round.




I was entering 6th grade, it was and adjustment to a new school, but this time would be different. It was the longest period of time I would spend in one school. The following three years would give me insight and vision to the world around me.I was no longer an outsider and I didn't follow in the shadows of my sisters or family. I for the first time was bonding making friends and feeling the magic of acceptance. If there could be a calm or a sense of security this was the time, if there ever was a time.

I had made a friend with the young girl, a few doors away, she would be the longest friend of childhood, one that would be in my life for more then a couple of months. People thought we were sisters, same height, and build. Entering her life, was for me a learning experiencing, how to be a child. She taught me how to play jacks, skip rope and a game called 7 up. Her family was middle class America, two parents working, her father the friendly drunk and her mother stern and head of the family. This was my first glimpse of how other families lived, outside by own. We spent hour upon hours together.

The school we attended was a few miles away, she took the bus and I walked. Before you know it she was saving her bus money to buy hot dogs at this little hot dog shop in a not so friendly neighborhood and walking the few miles home with me each day. The friendship and the new school had become a reality escape, where I could physically get away.

I can remember my mother in a lot of ways but never sick or in bed or just laying around during the day. This one day was a exception, home from school, I found her laying in bed. I’m home, I called out! I walked up the steps and the house was quiet. My father was in the bedroom and my mother laid quiet and still. Is she ok I asked? I can’t recall his response at that moment. I walked over to her, her eyes glazed like glass and as still as the night. I tried to get her to answer me, father was rambling, not uncommon for him to go on for hours of non stop talking and yelling. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t know what,.she needs a doctor, we need to call a doctor. This I remember clearly, he said let her die! Frightened and unsure of what was going on. Can you believe that to his point I had never used a telephone, the mysterious black thing a ma jigger that was off limits to the children.

The age span had meant only two of us were left at home. Everyone who could, moved out at a very young age. My brother to the military, my eldest sister took it to the courts an fought for emancipation and gained independents at sixteen with the stipulation that she kept a full time job and continued schooling. The third born well she was the runaway and I lost track of how many times. This just left my youngest sister and I. Father wouldn’t let me leave the house, I thought if I could get to a neighbor I could have them call 911 the emergency phone number. My little sister stumbled in. Father was pacing back and forth between the rooms, yelling, I quickly I pulled her aside, you need to go to the neighbors they need to call for help. Within seconds I managed to get her out the door. The whole time mother never moved. Father was yelling, she deserves to die, It will be good to be rid of her.

The paramedics arrived quickly and took her to the hospital. Mother had seizures, and though I am not sure if she had several that day or one was coming on. We heard all the nonsense during the fighting period, but we were never respected to be confided in to what was going on. I had no real concept of their financial situation nor there medical one.

The calm was soon coming to an end, replaced with the sounds of domestic violence in action, the battles of the extreme.
The first thought in the morning was how was the day going to be and who would end up killing who, the last thought at night “ Please Lord Make Them Stop”. A chill comes over me as I write, how could this violence be happening to people who proposed to love each other.

Friday, March 2, 2007

DNA

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We use to laugh when the movie came out,” Mommie Dearest” No Wire Hangers”. Abuse of a child, adult or elderly can be minor or could be to the extreme. How it effects each individual and how they survive, is as unique as each person involved. Some people do grow stronger in spite of a neglectful or abusive childhood.


Are we then predetermined to fail or succeed and will genetic mapping in the future, give us the blue print to repair the weak threads and encourage the stronger ones? This is exactly why you can take a family of twelve and have just that twelve different views. Each child will grow and flourish at their individual rate.Some children will survive and become stronger and others will fall by the wayside.

The medical field is ever growing and the influence of technology is having a stronger hold in our lives.In the future we may know exactly who is likely to be a alcoholic or compulsive and how to prevent mental health conditions and who will be prone to illness etc. Presently all we can do is try to recognize stress, illness and reach out to guide, educate and provide help to families who maybe in need.

The genetic code is a ABC map of DNA that holds the answers to our past, present and future. The blue print of what we inherited, will display a unique pattern of our ancestors. If you took a jar of marbles shook them up and tossed them to the floor , the marbles would create a different pattern each time they fell.Though each of us is born to only two parents, we are like marbles, we all come out just a little bit different.“Our genetic code” allows us to develop into the humans that we are , it will display our strengths as well as our weakness. With this tendency towards a certain behavior, it is only complicated by the environment we are raised in.

Child abuse is global, it survives in every kind of lifestyle possible, it shows it ugly head in some of the most severe situations and it hides and morphs in many others. We are very vulnerable to the storms of nature, accidents and illness., and yet man still remains man’s worst enemy.

Evil survives because we give it a platform, people seek to read and watch gore and violence and help the seeds of hell spread. I was once told that “hell sells newspapers” I think there is an audience for both the good and evil of life.

We are the soldiers of love, one by one we are just that a soldier,
together we are an army and the kingdom of love,
shall find its righteous place on earth.

Don’t panic everyone, I took off my “ rose colored glasses”

Utopia

Look not with your eyes, allow the image through the
heart to clear the darkness and warm
the soul with love

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The more I know, the less I wish I did "ignorance is bliss" a stand that many people take. Close
your eyes to that which does not come into your life. In the societal hierarchy, we are step upon step, one dependent upon the other. What places us in this division and how do we create a more universal bond? In the manifestation of a utopia , we would have to replace the ills , greed, violence and hatred with love.

Impossible a feat! would be the explanation of many, life is stress, we are over run with the poor, weak, old, sick and diseased. It is not necessarily how do we eliminate the problems? How do we manage those issues that are already here? Through education we can transform the world as we know it. Silence makes us all victims, only in voice can we come together to make a difference in the world. The future of our children depends on it.




Thursday, March 1, 2007


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One day of love in a child's life can
last a life time. We hold them in our
arms for such a short period of
time, but the memories we
instill, are forever.
Labeling Children
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There are a wide range of ways we can label children, it happens all the time. We are a society built on placing labels on everyone and everything. He is gifted, she is talented, beautiful, smart,
obese, skinny, good, bad, rebellious, the wild child, the good little girl, perfect, wealthy, poor, over achiever, under achiever. This list of labels are endless, the impact on a child can result in
negative feedback.
Boxing a child and placing a label on them, limits their abilities, they begin to live up to this predetermined image. Some might say positive labeling is a good thing. I don't see it quite that
way. What are encouraging is disappointment and failure.
My second born sister was very attractive, my mother referred to her as the pretty one and the lazy one. She was much more then pretty, she was intelligent and clever and creative and she had a wide range of talents. unfortunately she lived up to the expectations her label set. All emphasis placed on her looks, to much so that she died at a early age of a food eating disorder, a mix of anorexia an bulimia. She left behind two sons. My youngest sister labeled, wild child, was indeed just that, wild, troubled and fulfilling what limited expectations were placed on her.

As a parent myself, I saw my own children's weaknesses and strengths, and I fought the instinct to label. I Have talked to my children many times over about their lives and hoped to instill the message that each of us is born with a gift and it is up to us as individuals to explore and find the gift within. I'm falling into another cliche moment " I lived my life now it is time for you to live yours. The time to make choices , grow and reach out and explore what the world has to offer, or even more what you have inside of you to offer the world.

Children are very perceptive, positive labeling can possibly create a child becomes overly concerned with justifying , trying to prove the label is worthy of them. They begin to feel a false sense of security, feelings of worth of such recognition becomes questioned in their minds. This can create quite the opposite effect and high ahievers might fail in theier presumed expectation.

Then we have the opposite a child who is negatively labeled and then they begin to see themselves as the failure, they are presumed to be. Compliment and labeling are very different. Children should be encouraged and complimented for their achievements to instill in them a desire to grow in a positive way. Placing an emphasis on the nurturing of a skill, and less on closing the door on it.

To foster the growth of a child that is well rounded and uncapped one must encourage through words of love...you are who you to dare to be.. the spirit is free to meet all challenges.

Love understand when the world does not!
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