Out Of The Ashes

I like to play coy and say that in the past few months of my absence nothing has happened.
Well, nothing that merits you taking a few minutes out of your busy day to read, anyway.

I got to the point where I would sit in front of the screen and think to myself, "What is the point? Hasn't it all been said and done before? What could I possibly say that is so unique? I've told all of the stories that there are to tell."
That hit me really hard.
The possibility of an actual depth to my soul that I thought I possessed was nothing than barely a shallow pool of a personality and life experience.

Life ran away with me on its back and all I could do was hang on. Let the school work take its toll, daily survival played its mundane tune, and I went to bed with the weight of good intentions laying in my chest.

So many times during the days and weeks my mind would drift to you.
Thinking, wondering, missing.
And hoping.
Certain lines that you have written or comments would pop into my head and I would smile.

Blogging, writing, commenting left a big void.

But while nothing much was going on - domestically speaking - I have been transforming.
I needed to unplug.
I am still morphing, I'm sure that the journey is not complete.
And one day, may I will be able to tell you of white light, and sweat lodges, incense, stones, cats, meditations, and visions.
Some of it will sound crazy, I'm sure.
And that is OK.
I am certainly not hear to convince anyone of anything.
I will share them as an attempt to sort out this spiritual awakening I have had, to look back on it and watch the pieces fall into place.

What Now

I sit here and look at blogger pages and think to myself, "How do I...?", "What do I....?"

I scratch my head, not sure what the proper protocol is.

I'm back in the saddle - electronically speaking - and yet I still don't know what to do.
As of last night I had 611 new items in my Reader. How do I even begin reading all of that? Do I post first, read first, then post? I don't know what to do after such a long absence. I'm making my rounds - trying to catch up. When I'm over your way, I'll probably say 'HI'. Not on every post, but some.

So let me know dear lovelies, how do I even begin this thing again?

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

This about sums up it.

School is done for the year.

And we have our DSL back up and running.

Elementary, My Dear Watson

Here's a question or two for you:

Why is someone who considers every human being truly equal considered "fringe" or "radical"?

Why is something we are taught in preschool and/or kindergarten - that everyone is the same and that we should treat everyone nicely and with kindness - thrown out the window at a certain point?

As Time Goes By

Well yet another month+ has rolled on past and I let the blogging ball drop.....again.

In an attempt to scale back spending in these rocky times I don't know when Rav & I will be opting for high-speed again. So I will have to be content to live in the dark ages of dial-up for now. And I do have to say that dialing up has really taken the wind out of my sales in regards to blogging.

I'm home on Easter vacation with the kids this week and figured I'd pop in and out and maybe update this sad little blog.
For those of you who are still interested in what is going on with me, I'll fill you in:

* In February, I received my Reiki II attunement (which is what I think brought about the last post). It was a very intense process and one that I'm happy I went through with. So now I am trying to get my hands on anyone who will let me and trying to figure out a way that I can give people who need healing a little reiki. Rav & I are working out the details.
So...if you know anyone in the Mid-Atlantic who could use a little reiki lift be sure to send them my way ;)

* School is going and I'm trying my best to hang with it. I'm still enjoying it and it is certainly doing it's part to feed my hungry heart (which never seems to get enough knowledge/learning). My plate is just very full and I'm working on trying to remain balanced. The reading I have to undertake for the class I am currently taking is killer and I am a notoriously slow reader.

* Preschool is keeping me insanely busy for a part-time gig. But that will be ending in May until the next school year....I'm looking forward to the break.

* Kids. The kids. Oh yes, my crazy kids. They're slowly and methodically beating me down and killing me. But then, that is their job, right?

* We bought new living room furniture. Our old set was a third-time hand-me-down and I couldn't take it anymore. It was gross and faded and I didn't even like sitting in our livingroom anymore because of it. We found a great deal on a new set, paid cash, and have been happy little clams ever since.
Exciting stuff, huh? Aren't you glad you're reading this riveting stuff?

So that is the update as I can think of it.
I will try to be more on top of my little space here. As I do miss it and all of you out here.

Fear

I thought I knew what it was.
I mean, what it really was.
Looking back, I see that I was a fool and that I had very little understanding of the true meaning of the word.
I was a fool to think that the pounding in my chest and the wide-eyed, deer-in-head-lights look equaled fear.
I thought that the whole numb feeling in my limbs was a sign that I was truly afraid.
Afraid, for instance, to be alone in the dark, afraid of what it meant to have a step-parent, afraid of a sub-standard test grade and what consequences were in store when I would come home from school, afraid of being found out.
At the time, it seemed legitimate.
Now I know better.

Something I read brought the visuals back to me.
Reminded me of my fear of losing him - losing either one of them.
It once was a distant thought. Just out of my reach. Something I never thought I'd have to face.
But the fact that one day, he came so close to being gone, rocks me to my core.
The words I read - words belonging to someone else - brought back the images I thought I had somehow managed to forget.
How naive and egotistical of me to think that?
How could I possibly forget?

How could I, his mother, forget that I turned my back, or that I was that stupid, that I would take such a chance with something so precious?

Why on Earth would I think, for a second, that I would be able to block out of my mind the look on his face - the fear and desperation in his eyes?
Or worse yet - what he was probably thinking, during those water-filled moments.
Things like Why is it taking so long? When will she notice that I am submerged and come over and get me?
I imagine that those moments must have felt like an eternity to him.

Is that part of our mother-son bond now?
The fact that we both now know what fear really means?
If so, it is not a glowing testament on my part, as a mother.

I wonder if that is the day my creativity, my words, got left at the side of the pool?
Because looking back, I haven't been the same since that day.
I even feel silly saying that, because I - we - were blessed with a happy ending.
But the guilt, the images, the fear just won't go away.

Writing about this makes me feel guilty.
Self-absorbed
and even throw in a dash of
self-pity.

I feel like writing it out like this, makes it sound as if it is all about me, how I feel, how I can't shake the images that repeat themselves in my mind's eye. How terrified they make me feel. Even now that it has been almost 8 months ago...It's a vicious mental cycle I am in.
Shouldn't it be about him?

I guess I just want him to know I'm better than that horrific moment in our history.
I guess I just want to know I'm better than that horrific moment in our history.

Sad State of Affairs

It has been one month since I have posted anything.
One.Whole.Month.

And that's just posting.
Nevermind reading.
Reading a post?
What in blue blazes could that be?

I feel like I am letting you all down.
Like I have you on a yo-yo.
Such was not my intention.

But dial-up with a 22K connection?
Uh, fecking sucks. yes, I said fecking.
Reading with same said connection?
BRUTAL.

To be honest, I cannot even remember when the last time I signed on the computer here at home.
And this just touches on the computer issue.
Which is the major issue.
I mean, MAJOR.

I miss you all.
I do.
You too Phenom.
I got your email.
I'm here.
I'm alive and well.
I just cannot stomach the internet with a connection that moves slower than molasses in Canada in January.

I'm thinking of you all.
Missing you all.
And feeling much like a cavewoman.

The Things They Leave Behind #2

So, this is it. The only arrowhead that I've ever found.

I asked my dad, the last time I spoke to him if he "planted it" for me to find.
Which he emphatically denies.
I was quite relieved.
I mean, that would be sweet and all. But I'm glad it came to me own it's own.

The story about finding it came back to me at Christmas. My dad, Eileen, and my brothers came over on Christmas Eve....

Being adults (and I use that term loosely), Rav & I don't expect much from anyone for Christmas.
However, I know that I'm always in for it with my dad. He usually throws something emotional at me.
So, this year he hands me a box. And they specifically held this box back for me to open. Rav & I opened our Soprano's Family Cookbook, our assortment of gourmet cooking sauces and such. But this gift was held back.

We finally finished opening and the gift was handed over to me.
To be honest, I was scared.
Scared of having an emotional outburst.
I open it and inside of the box is a small shadow box.
And inside of the shadow box on batting, my dad arranged various of his artifacts from The Farm.
A handmade marble, a thimble, old buttons, pieces of pottery, various small tools - similar to arrowheads.
I was shocked and stunned.
Such a beautiful, heartfelt gift.
Probably one of the best I've ever received.
Receiving such a gift, kick-started my brain and reminded me of the arrowhead and the story, which I retold later that evening.

I probably could do this post and my dad/the gift better justice.
But the gift touched me so that I cannot find the words.
All I can say is that I look at it everyday and smile.
Just smile.

Getting On & Off The Wheel

In another life, he might not have had so many run-ins with the po'-po' (= the police).
But he was a young man and if you ask him he would have said that all of it was in good fun. He didn't mean any harm.

In another life, he might not have had to do a tour in 'Nam.
Only to come back broken, haunted, demonized by memories.
Some of which, left him wondering what happened to 9 months of his life over there.
It's probably for the best that he doesn't remember.

In another life, he might not have had to work for gangs to make a living.
Throwing dynamite at people's houses to persuade them to pay up.
He was just doing his job so that he could eat.

In another life, he might not have had the stuffings beat out of him when he said he was
done with the lifestyle and wanted to lead a straight life.

In another life, the woman he loved might have stayed.
She might have stayed to see the child grow.
The child that he helped make with her.
But she had other fish to fry.

So this wounded, lost man stepped up to the plate.
And he lived for this boy.
This boy was his life.
He picked up and carried on after she left.

In another life, he might not have been a friend/co-worker of my dad's.
This rough, sweet, loyal man.
My dad can be a magnet for lost souls that way.
The two were instant friends.
And that was a lifetime ago....that my dad and he whooped it up everyday at work.

In another life, this man's mobile home might not have exploded in the middle of the night.
Burning himself and his son.
In another life, the son had no burns on the lower portion of his body.
And in another life, the only family he has to speak of is not laying in a hospital 1 1/2 hours away, in critical condition - most of his body covered in burns, and breathing by way of machines.

But that is life.
Those things did happen.
And I am left wondering if my dad's old friend is getting off the wheel finally. He has lived through so much.
If he is letting the suffering of this life go.
I am left wondering what will happen to the boy - the 15 year old boy - who is on the brink of losing everything.
The man who lived for him after living through so much.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

Serena Ryder opened for Paolo Nutini when we saw him in concert in October. Rav & I have been hooked ever since.

Today's pick is: Weak In The Knees by Serena Ryder.
If you listen carefully, you may hear Gracie even singing along, coming to you from the East Coast.

And Magpie, in answer to your question....you'll find out this week.

Phenom: we watched Stripes now I know what you were talking about :)

Have a great Sunday everyone. And I hope you enjoy the song.

The Things They Leave Behind - #1

When my dad was young and living on The Farm, he would spend most of his time outdoors.
In the Fall and early Winter, he would spend time hunting.
In the Spring and Summer, he would spend time fishing and walking the fields.

For many years, my dad had built a collection of Indian Arrowheads, pipes, pieces of pottery, and the like from his time spent scouring.
There seemed to be one spot in particular that was a hot bed for lost things.

My dad's collection became quite large of these forgotten artifacts of another time.
Many exquisite arrowheads of many different colors, pieces of pottery, even teeth.
Lots of them.
(He didn't tell me about this until a month ago.)
In fact, he had found such an exquisite piece - a rather large and perfect arrowhead - he donated it to a museum in our state where it was on display until my early childhood. Where it is now, who knows.
Anyway...
Time slipped away, the young boy became a young man and an even younger father.
This hobby of his fell by the wayside.

I remember being a young girl and sitting with my dad for countless hours (willingly) examining arrowheads and other pieces of hardened, ancient earth that he had found.
He would tell me the story behind each piece and I would sit transfixed by what these were.
Small little bits of history that my dad had unearthed on The Farm.
I would very selfishly ask if I could have them.
And he told me one day, they would be mine.

As I got older, dad & I would walk the fields together.
Examining deer prints or other animal tracks.
Talking about the migratory patterns of geese and other winter-time escapees.
We would both walk and talk with our heads down.
Searching the ground for any piece that wanted to be found.

At age 11, I began getting really pissed off and utterly frustrated that I had never found anything.
As dad & I walked the fields, I said You know, all of this time you and I have been out here, looking, searching, and nothing. You have cases and cases full of arrowheads. Do you think you found them all? Do you think there are any left? I can't believe I haven't found one!
I looked down at my feet and there it was.
The one and only arrowhead that I have ever found.

On Christmas, we headed for home from my mother's house after a long, busy day.
The kids were spent and so were we.
Rav & I each have a kid to buckle in and as we do so, Gracie asks me if Santa is coming to our house tonight for more presents.
No, honey. Santa is not coming tonight. Christmas is all done until next year.
These attempts at explaining are futile.
And the look on he face punctuates that.
She is crestfallen.
Maybe even a little depressed.

I remember that feeling.
Though I didn't feel it until I was about 11.
I remember saying to my Dad that the day after Christmas is pretty depressing.
After talking with him about it, I processed it. Made my peace with it as best I could.
However, seeing this realization was over my three-year-old's face has hit me rather hard.
She is over it. She is not asking about it anymore. But seeing her like that broke my heart into a million pieces.

Today was Connor's first day back to school.
Today marks the start of the first full week back to work after the holiday madness.
Today is the start of my classes for the Spring semester.
And it's back to the way we were.
Back to racing around in the morning looking for a matching set of socks.
Back to making sure the kids have breakfast, while my hair is air drying, half-dressed, wild-eyed, and maniacal.
Back to cramming a waffle or 1/4 of a bowl of cereal into my mouth as I run out the door.
Back to racing around trying to make sure we all get to where we need to go. On time.

These mundane rituals signify that, compared to many, we have it good.
I'm trying to remember that as I am dialing up with a 24K connection because our DSL is down.
I'm trying to remember that as I am already obsessing about school work after downloading a 30 page syllabus and wondering how I will balance again. Balance it all.

All while I do this, people are suffering, many of whom are invisible and on the margins.
People are living lives and having babies and losing loved ones and fleeing from erupting volcanoes, losing their belongings in floods, working for nothing, living on nothing, and having babies in shelters in foreign countries.

I keep hearing about this crazy notion of change.
In fact, I'm quite sick of it.
I feel like it's going to turn into this hip, mod, in-thing to say.
Yeah, it will turn into this thing to
say.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment by Rav, sort of...

Tab had to run out so she left me the duty of posting this. Today's song is Tonight You Belong to Me. This song is an oldie. Some may remember that Steve Martin and Bernadette Peters sang it in movie, The Jerk. I didn't, I just read that on YouTube. Anyway, this version is by Josh Ritter and Erin McKeown. We love it, and I bet that you will too. Enough rambling. Listen to this already...

A Quick Aside

Just to let you all know...
We are having major internet issues.
I'm trying to get caught up on all of you via Google Reader and I drop comments here and there. But until our internet "stuff" gets sorted out and until I get all caught up on reading, my comments might be scarce.

Just thought I'd let you know what the deal is.

And I Think To Myself

The past month or so, I've been doing a lot of reflecting.
And as many of you are probably doing, I am reflecting on the year, my conduct and progress or lack thereof in 2007, etc.

I'm of the mindset that resolutions are pretty lame.
In fact, as I was watching the Today show this morning, I began getting just a tad bit annoyed.
I began thinking about this cycle of unrealistic expectations and inevitable let-downs.
The pieces of spirit that can become broken and left to feel like a failure because
perhaps it didn't quite shave the body down to some ridiculous notion of what beauty or proper weight should be.
Maybe having a cluttered home really is the sign of a happy home and not having a closet that looks like it was ripped out of Posh's house isn't the sign of a failure.
Maybe driving a Honda or a Hyundai rather than a BMW or a Bentley is OK.
I don't know. I mean, there is more than one way up the mountain. I just think resolutions are a set-up for failure and shouldn't we be doing something to feel better about ourselves and each other?

As I've been reflecting on the past year and such, I was thinking about simplicity.
How it is the teeniest of acts that really do start a movement.
Whether that movement be within society or simply within someone else's heart.
That in one way or another we all have the capacity to do this, we just try to make it seem so hard as a way to justify being asses to each other.
An experience I had the other day, finally made the lightbulb go on.

You all know, that have been reading for a time, that I truly try to make it a point to let others know I care. Sometimes it is misconstrued, sometimes it is seen for what it is.
Sometimes I care so much that I become immobilized. It's almost more than I can bear to do or to speak. I become so overwhelmed, so full.

Anyway, I've noticed that opportunities have not presented themselves in "grand" ways for me to extend my hand.
And in fact, I had become quite irritated because I thought I had fallen off the giving train.
That people were not being sent my way for a reason (if that makes any sense).
And the giving of myself feels better.
It feels awful when I am not.

I've been making it a point lately to look directly at people when I am out walking.
And not only that
but to smile at them.
Possibly even say "hello" or "good morning".
Whatever feeling presents itself is what I will do.
(this paragraph makes me sound like a grump. i keep picturing in my head old man Potter from It's A Wonderful Life. I truly don't believe I walked around like that before. I just went about my business like a million other worker ants.
So I've been making this effort, which brings me to the point.....are you shocked that there was one?)

I was on the phone with my academic institution to ask a question the other day. A lady was assisting me with my question and was most helpful. As the call ended, I simply said to her Have a good day.
Pretty innocent. Pretty pedestrian.
I didn't say to her I have the address and phone number to Beckham's house. He's waiting for your call.
I didn't say Oh, I happen to have this extra $1M sitting in my back pocket. Want it?
I simply said Have a good day.
And there was a reaction.
A reaction of shock.
A reaction of pleasant surprise at such an utterance.
(Now listen, I'm not claiming to be this wonderful, always do-gooder.
I know this tale of human interaction is one that could be told a thousand times a day by a thousand other writers who could write it in a more brilliant way. I am simply sharing this experience and the shock of it with you. Sharing it from me, Mrs. Incredible (Tabba) to you, lovely reader.)

I hung up the phone feeling glad that she got off the phone with me in such a way.
And a little sad too.

Sad because it sounded as if she had never heard it before.
How is it that we are so 'busy', so clinical with each other?

I am hopeful though.
Hopeful that things will get better.
Hopeful that maybe if we all could take these resolutions and maybe cram them up - er, that's not nice, T.
(try again)
OK.
Hopeful that maybe rather than worry about driving a car that costs as much as it would to feed a small nation or injecting foreign materials into our faces, or hell worrying about the pile of papers that cram your credenza, desk, and sock drawer
we could just take the time to say
Have a good day.
And smile.
Maybe say hello or good morning.

It sounds idealistic.
I know.
But it makes a difference.

Emerging From Underneath Of The Rock

Hello, all. If anyone still pops in over this way after almost a month of silence.
I hope that your holiday(s) were well for you all and that 2008 brings you much peace and happiness.

I've missed you all while I was away.
I often found my thoughts drifting to you.
Wondering what new topics were lighting the fires inside of your minds.
What new personal perils or triumphs you were sharing.

My intention with the "shutting down" of this little blog was to spend time reading all of you more.
However, I needed to cut myself off completely.
I peeked in from time to time, but I had to step away.
I found that the amount of pressure I put upon myself to write quality posts, to read, and respond eloquently was more than my feeble mind could handle.
Not to mention I was in the middle of a breakthrough of sorts.
Couple that with the impending holiday, classes winding down, a part-time job that I take way too seriously, and a family to be here for.
Despite being a Libra, I was having immense trouble juggling it all.

All of that being said, I feel that it is time to come back.
To mingle with you all, to be a part again.
My mind feels clear and my heart wide open.

I'm probably not picking a great day to return as it is the eve of yet another holiday, but that's just how I roll.

So again, have a wonderful New Year. Be safe, be well, go easy.
I can't wait to see what all of you have been up to!

The End or Simply The Beginning

Wow.
Wow.
I can't believe how I have fallen off here.
Fallen off of reading.
Fallen off of writing.

I recently heard myself saying to myself that there simply just isn't enough time.
But myself said back to myself that this is simply an excuse.
That if I really wanted to, I would find a way.

I don't want this to end.
But I don't have anything right now.
So I think a hiatus is in order.

Next week is my last class and the holidays are approaching (who would have noticed? like you need me to point that out!) and I will be on vaca from my little munchkins at the preschool.
Big things have been brewing with me on a spiritual level.
It is something so big I need time to reflect upon it.
This silence of mine has been purely mindful, somewhat meditative, and mostly reflective.
I've been thinking of you all and sending thoughts to you all out into the cosmos and hope that they make their way to you.

I think I may take this time to silence this here space and read what you all have to say.
As I have missed so much.
I may post a song or two.
Maybe a quote or a quick little story.
Otherwise I am silent and will let it flow when it is ready to flow again.

'Til then.
I'll see you.

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

Are you totally confused yet?

Yeah, I'm cheating.
Today is Tuesday & I'm posting my song today.

We had some unforeseen stuff go down this weekend & it could not be helped that Sunday got pushed back to Tuesday.
Eh. Sometimes you just gotta roll with it.

I'm taking 10 minutes for myself to quickly check in on some of my old haunts out here.
I miss it.
I miss you all & the window(s) in which you allow me to peek inside of your funny, zany, happy, silly, sometimes chaotic, crazy, sometimes emotional, normal lives.
I'm finding it very hard to balance everything right now.

Anyway....I started reading a post on Phenom's blog & the song that I wanted to share two days ago popped into my head.
So I said f*ck it.
I'll share it today.
Pretend for a minute, if you will, that it is a lazy Sunday morning.
Close your eyes and just pretend.
Listen to the song & let it take you away for a moment.
Go on.
Do it.
Go ahead.
It'll do you some good.

Quiet Town by Josh Rouse

Two Cool Dude-ettes

This is for Jen & KC.

I am way in no way promoting the consumption of Bud Light.
I saw this last night & instantly thought of these two blogger-gals.

I'm hoping to be 'round the way soon.
I got writer's block & reader's block.
But you're all still my peeps!

Have It Or You Don't?

Compassion.

This question has been rattling around my brain for a few weeks now & it keeps popping up in unlikely places.

It first came to me as a topic for much heated internal dialogue, after Connor's conference.
(because I'm oh-so neurotic and analytical like that).
His teacher asked us what qualities we like most about Connor.
My answer was his heart - his compassion.
And his teacher agreed and then she said:
That's something you either have or you don't.

I thought this most interesting of a statement.
And quite honestly, it's not something that I ever stopped to really think about before.
It may be elementary, but I've missed out on many things/thoughts that are elementary.

I haven't missed out on it for lack of having it.
That is one thing I can easily say about myself - I am compassionate.
Probably to a fault.

But the idea that people are out there, walking around right now, with no ability or chance of ever having compassion boggles my mind.

I've heard the ever popular
that's how you have sociopaths.

Agreed. I understand that is what makes them so.
But my mind wanders to the possibility that there is more than the lack of compassion at work there.
That the lack of it is a symptom (for lack of a better word).

My bleeding heart self feels that everyone is born with some semblance of compassion, but it is our context, or our nurture, that helps to foster it.
And maybe that is simply just an idealistic way of looking at it.
From the informal "data" that I have collected thus far, I seem to be the only one who thinks this.

I look at my kids - who clearly have compassion for others - and wonder if it is something they have simply learned. And then I wonder how? They have not seen me hand umbrellas out to strangers on a rainy day, they have not been with me when I have handed food out to a stranger.
I realize my compassion extends farther than these two scenarios.
But I wonder if they already had it - and we simply foster it.
Or if it is a completely learned quality/value?

So what say all of you out there?
Do you think compassion is something you either have or you don't?