Clearing the Webs

Vastu Tips: Know why spider's web is considered inauspicious and should be  cleaned immediately | Astrology News – India TV
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I envy people who continue to write consistently through difficult or stressful or overly busy times. In fact, I am grateful for those then and now who are documenting not only the current events that are of historic proportion here in our country (and the world as well) but also their insightful emotional responses to them.

I have not been able to muster the creative energy to sit down and concentrate in a very long time. Certainly, moving to a new region that is vastly different from where I used to live has been the number one contributing factor to the scarcity of my posts and even my journal writing. It truly is harder for me to write because of where I live. Heat. Sun. Population Density. Traffic. Sirens. Not enough natural spaces. Not feeling grounded. A dearth of inspiration for sure. I really didn’t want to risk my posts becoming one long lament. Moreover, until May, I had a teaching position that consumed most of my days and ALL of my creativity. It was impossible for me to give any of it to myself when I needed it to create curriculum.

When I was not stuck in traffic or working weekends grading papers and creating lesson plans, I was (and am) utterly distracted by the continued destruction of our country since the 2016 election (and there is a strong argument to be made that it actually has been decades in the making). I soon found myself writing posts of a political nature when my site’s mission really was focused on how I overcame abuse and found my voice again. Don’t get me wrong, I am a political animal (it was my college major) but I really haven’t wanted to directly address specific issues given the general proclivity towards rude behavior and abuse that occurs all over social media and the news.

Then the pandemic hit. I found myself retreating further and further from interacting with others even after lockdown orders were lifted. Everything I have experienced with our local (Florida) response brought me back to my abusive marriage. The lies, manipulation and callous disregard for people was way too familiar to me. It’s hard to write when you have become an emotional wreck. My focus became survival. How do I cope and stay safe?

Still, I write all of this knowing that my life is blessed. For sure, I am no longer in a situation of personal abuse. More importantly, even though the pandemic has changed our lives and livelihoods, I have far more resources than I had before and have been able to make choices that allow me to advocate for others as well as keep myself healthy. Hopefully, this also will open up enough space to begin regularly writing again. I have missed it!

PS: For those who follow me on Facebook, please note that I have not been able to access my page in a long time from any of my devices. Therefore, I cannot see your comments or likes. Please feel free to comment directly here.

Host Bodies*

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 Image courtesy of: https://visionaryartistrymag.com/2016/02/afshin-naghouni-beautiful-images-ugly-truths/

 

What is the sanctity of life?

When does it begin and when does it end?

Whose life is sacred and holy?

I hear that the state of my  body in your state will have no exceptions.

Incest and Rape: Criminal conceptions

 Six week legality is out of touch with reality

You care for the “Innocent”

Yet spare no regard for a woman’s predicament

Born Female

Born with no human value

Born to temper the impulses of our own personhood:

Education

Self-determination

Independence

Sexual Expression

I live in fear of the pitchforks of Oppression

Intent on seizing Political Power and Unholy Ascension

 

 

* Title inspired by the idiotic comments of Florida House Speaker Jose Oliva who used the term to describe pregnant women five times during a recent interview. He later apologized but we all know the subconscious mindset has a truly ugly way of revealing itself.

Day 13: Recent state laws passed extreme abortion restrictions with the intent to get their cases before the Supreme Court. Such an ugly contest that doesn’t take into consideration ANY situation and does not have any medical or scientific basis, just right wing Christian religious belief disguised as a means to protect the unborn when in reality they don’t protect the living.  Their agenda is female subjugation and dehumanization, period. Jesus would be mortified.

 

She Persists

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                                      Hamsa: The Hand of Fatima

   (courtesy of: http://mythologian.net/symbols-strength-extensive-list/)

 

You were whole along

Even when the weaponed words cut you

and hammered their hurt.

Tied you to the tracks

as the lumbering locomotive lurched towards you.

You defied the Damsel in Distress Delegations,

beating the drum to your own destiny.

Still today

You were pinpricked.

Blood bursting

unexpected spatter that landed on the floor and walls.

Faint whispers of long ago depositions

and ugliness attempted a resurgence.

Someone poisoned the well,

but you refused to drink.

You tended the wound

and sealed the leak.

Retained your Integrity

Reminded once again that you will not be broken by ugliness and ignorance.

 

Day 3: This day sort of wrote itself.  The details need not be regurgitated. I am grateful for the support I received and the beautiful reminder of who I am: a passionate woman who has a way with words and uses them well.

 

Why Write?

Image result for woman writing as resistance art
            Courtesy of: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/553802085399155400/

        Since moving to a new state 3 and 1/2 years ago, I have found it difficult to tap into my creative outlet on a regular basis.  Lately, I have wondered why- given that my life is filled with less responsibilities and a bit more time in which to write. I have moved away from the near daily reminders of my past into a space where I can build a whole new life for myself. Perhaps my expectations were too great. Reality has a way of biting into those beliefs, forcing a change to my mindset. So, what’s changed? A close examination bears the following: my job as a teacher pulls and drains at the energy required for such a task beyond the work day.  Each year my school community has challenged me with a new class to teach. The trust placed in me to create (yes!) another new course with its accompanying curriculum is both an honor and a burden, given the high expectations (there’s that word again!) that I place upon myself. I wouldn’t have it any other way, either.  When I moved here, it was important for me to cultivate a community-not necessarily replicate the one I left but it needed to come close. My work environment fits the bill.  It is a place of love and support and laughter as well as being intellectually stimulating.  And herein lies another obstacle to my creativity-a draining commute! I find the endless traffic lights and the strip mall landscape and multi-lane roads unbearable. The lack of investment in modern and efficient public transportation here borders on the ridiculous (no, it is ridiculous!).  There is no time of day when traffic is not heavy.  Local and state leaders truly have not had (and I would argue still do not have) the gumption and vision to move forward in this area. The only exception may be the desire to build highways in rural areas, which is nothing but a blatant attempt to further develop an already over developed fragile ecosystem whose drinking water problems may very well be the death of us. And given the fact that one has to travel over large bodies of water in order to get from point A to point B-not only to get to work or other destinations, but to also evacuate-you would think that this would be taken into account. But I live in a heads- in- sand-state; so again, I have lowered my expectations of things changing anytime soon. For now I have found a route home that is tolerable and calming for the most part.

 After a day spent teaching and a drive spent being grateful for not getting into an accident, all I can muster is a yoga workout and then meditation on my mat! Dinner, a bit of wine and a good British murder mystery is how I usually end my day.

Still, there are two things I truly fear most about hitting the keyboards these days. First, that it will be an endless lament about how much I miss my four season home state and the nearby mountains. If I couldn’t get to a higher altitude, I had the woods and hills. THE QUIET. Florence Williams reveals her own writing challenges in her book, The Nature Fix: Why Nature Makes Us Happier, Healthier and More Creative.  In her introduction, she writes of her family’s move from the majestic mountains of Colorado to the “Anti-Arcadia that is our nation’s capital.” She states: “I yearned for the mountains. I felt disoriented, overwhelmed, depressed.” (p.8)  After reading that bit, I realized that I was not alone; my emotions were validated.  And while I cannot escape the din more regularly, I find myself seeking out the trails in a nearby park. If I turn up my headphones just enough, I can almost not hear the sounds of the sirens that seem to drone on several times within a half-day’s span. Moreover, I head north as much as possible ( five times in 2018!). My soul is fed by time spent with the boys and my closest friends-not to mention mountain hikes and walks in the woods!

     My other fear is that I will devote most of this blog’s posts to the current political climate in our country. When I first started the site nearly 7 years ago, I wanted a space where I could explore and grow my writing as well as offer a forum of hope for anyone who was experiencing an abusive relationship. I wanted to write about my new life in order to convey a message of  triumph and joy and profound appreciation for resisting and overcoming personal tyranny. Well, that is done! But what about the oppression of these past two years? What about the culmination of the hard right turn this country began taking in 1980?  I cannot not write about it.  Writing is an act of resistance that is just as affective as the activist work that I have participated in since November of 2016. Writing clears my mind. Writing raises my voice. Writing sends a message of resistance to the abusive and repressive power structures that seek to quiet us. Writing raises the vibration and gives us energy and hope. So write I will.

Image result for poets as unacknowledged legislators

 

Transcending Old Suffering

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Image courtesy of: Heart Sisters

Too dangerous to repeat those words which once made me feel small

They hung in the air

A hovering smog of demotions revealing your lack of devotion

Too dangerous to think how those utterances once pierced my heart

They slit and sliced

leaving a hole where love once lived

Too dangerous to feel how those remarks concussed my soul

where my very being was left battered and bruised

Then a moment when I thought I was so far removed

Where the hurt had been expelled and expunged

My attention became ensnared and captured

Energy stuck in an obscure bodily sphere

Tenuous and subtle but present

 I linger with it

I sense it moving through

There!

It sits behind my eyes

Insisting that I see

Pounding my head with implication and insinuation

Admonishing me to feel

I turn it over

Offer it up

 Relief arrives with admission and realization

that the Spirit

the Me that is Me

carries remnants

the residual remains

of Invisibility

Each movement of ancient energy

is a releasing

another renewal

and I am seeing myself as I never did before

Day 25.  Old stuff surfaced ever so briefly yesterday and gave me a gift. And now I am giving you one as well. For those of you moving past old hurts and sufferings at the hands and/or words of another. The journey through healing is worth the destination.

 

Withering Vines

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                                            Image courtesy of: Pintrest

A Reflection

A Pleasing Woman

A Magnificent Mind

A Soft Spirit

Working hard at denial

and unconscious obfuscation

Practicing the art of avoidance

Folding within herself

 A verdant vessel for a vacuous seed

  Hoping for a change through sweet offerings

While gritting your teeth and conjuring a smile

You’re building a gilded cage

 Your tongue bleeding with the words you wish to say

Your feet tiptoeing

When they  want to stomp in frustration and irritation

Is it easier to acquiesce?

What is it that you fear?

  In time your ebullience may ebb

Your smile may turn into a sneer

And the hard work of keeping it together may exhaust you

And then your unraveling will begin

 

Day 11. The daily prompt was Unraveling. I am far removed from my former life on so many levels. But today’s prompt had me thinking of women who sacrifice so much of themselves, buying into the fairy tale, afraid of being alone and staying too long because of fear of looking like a failure or fear of poverty or something much worse. The chance to regain yourself and build a better life is out there and worth the fight.

Wide Awake

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                                                 Image courtesy of: Genius

Blindly

I could not see the damage to your soul

Blindly

I thought I could love you through the break in your heart

Blindly

I followed the false path that you contrived

Blindly

I thought I could take it

The sadistic words

The trepid  fear of you

Blindly you moved further

Becoming lost to us and yourself

  Blindly

I thought it could not get any worse

 And then

Blindly

I stayed

Until I became invisible

Even unto myself 

Cautiously

I awakened

Carefully

I spoke

Purposely

I moved forward

Clearly

seeing the many paths I could walk

Day 10. Today’s WordPress prompt was Blindly. I had to wait all day to write this one!

 

Holier than Thou, How?

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  Image courtesy of: Two Spirits | Native American Gender Diversity | Independent Lens | PBS

Am I to drown in a lake of fire or am I heaven bound?  

Is my sin only manifested in one man

Fallen and depraved and under continuous damnation from God?

Am I truly the apex of all creation?

Am I a mere helpmeet unworthy and incapable of godly leadership?

Or is the Energy of The Spirit not bound in a book or the walls of a building?

Is it not flowing through rivers and streams

And the vast oceans that encompass this Earth?

Is not water the most Holy and High of all creation?

The One from which all life has sprung forth?

Is not water life itself, without which all living beings will perish?

Does The Spirit not speak to me in the blowing winds and rains and snows?

Is the message not heard in the noisy gong of birds at dawn?

And seen through the long looks of deer in the fields?

I say The Kingdom is within me

With each breath and prayer and call to action

I will persist against the evil and damning forces within our midst 

So keep me from your heartless judgements

Your parochial beliefs 

Your confines of complicit catechisms

Speaking Truth to Power is my road to Glory and Salvation

Day 5. I think I have said enough today.

Miss Liberty is Weeping

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Image courtesy of: AmericanIconsTemple – WordPress.com

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Can you hear them?

The thundering hooves of delusional despots

Faces with painted smiles

in a heated hunt

like hounds headed for their prey

Hell-bent on holding down the humble

Heaving them into hovels to hide-away  

Can you see them?

The circling sharks, self-serving, selling and seducing second-rate safety

Can you smell them?

The pussy-footed pustules and pompous panderers promising protection

Make no mistake, the nation will not be “ours” again

 No return to “greatness” or “glory”  

The tide is turning

The disenfranchised

The degraded

Thrown into a rip current

to be drowned

dismembered

and dismissed

While those with the skin of the founding fathers

All mighty and white

Fracture the freedoms of  females

and others lacking fair faces

We are not mere birth vessels

Your slaves and servants once and again 

We cry for our beloved country

We are gutted but not defeated

Fairies, Genuises and Other Magic

 

Image courtesy of:  www.bbc.com

On Friday afternoon, while writing my latest post, I received a Happy Anniversary notification from WordPress. I had forgotten that I began this blog four years ago with the intent to find a forum that would tap into my love for words and the wish to empower and inspire not only myself, but others.

The last four years have been a journey of self-discovery and self-recovery. Writing has helped me to process the emotional trauma and abuse that I lived with not only in my first marriage, but in its aftermath. I could never have fully and truthfully written about those dark times until they were safely in the past. Most importantly, I discovered that I can write across all genres and subjects, with poetry being one of my favorite ways to express myself.

Interestingly enough, I found the space and time for writing when I had more responsibilities than I do now. I was always juggling bills, home ownership issues, full-time work and being the rock for my sons as they left adolescence and moved forward to young adulthood. At the same time, the pull to create was strong-perhaps stronger than it has been in this past year since I moved away-both literally and figuratively- from my “old life” into this new one. But as think about it, I might not have had an “old life”. Maybe that was my first marriage. Maybe what I call the “old life” was something else. Not a transition to my current life-that would diminish the eight years I spent between marriages. As I probe a bit deeper, I realize the life I was living was one of hope and courage and great emotional challenge. I had to prove to myself that I could live independently, fully, creatively and most of all, joyfully. It was essential for my sons to see this as well-especially that last bit. My former husband wanted nothing but for me- as he said- “to scratch, crawl and suffer”. I didn’t want to prove him wrong; I wanted to take that provocation, that rock in the road, and move it.

I suppose I could have spent the last year writing daily observations of my latest incarnation. But I think that would have gotten in the way of the creative process and transformation that was-and still is-occurring. I needed to be in it just as I needed to be in the dismantling all those years ago.The words needed a sabbatical as I settled into being here. Most importantly, I needed to learn to let go of my boys and trust they would be fine without my daily presence. It has been hard, but we’ve done it.

In a week, I begin to get busy once again. Work and other commitments will pull at my energy. At the same time, I know I have released more of the grief that I was sitting with for the past year. It was a necessary and healthy process. I hear the Writing Fairy knocking on my door once again and I am ready to let her in.