Save Yourself

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Earlier this week,  artist extraordinaire and fellow blogger, Sharon Cummings (sharoncummings) posed a question for her followers. At the end of her post, she asked “What is your saving grace?”  (http://sharoncummings.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/my-saving-g-r-a-c-e/)

The question certainly intrigued me and inspired me to think about what mine might be. Or maybe help me to further define what Grace means to me. I wrote about Grace in a different context last January ( A State of Grace). While I believe that message stills holds true for me today, I also believe that Grace is a multifaceted state of being.  In fact, I thinks it is a huge part of yourself that defines your essence and helps you to survive.

I know that I lost my Grace over time during the course of  my first marriage. The insidiousness of verbal and emotional abuse eats away at your identity  and stops the clock on what makes you tick until you feel hollow inside. It was only during my divorce proceedings (and the endless post divorce shenanigans on his part) that I began to redevelop my inner Grace.

I recall  a moment in July of 2008 when my soon to be ex-husband told me “I hope you scratch, crawl and suffer.” These words were a match that lit my fire. It was clear that he was determined to undermine me financially and emotionally. I was not going to let that happen. The course of events that unfolded over the next few years were tests of my ability to withstand hardship and to stand up for what I believed was right for my own life as well as my sons’.  It was by no means easy. When I felt myself about to fall off the edge,  I would remember the words that my mother said to me, “Don’t let him break you.”

My saving grace is my tenacity. The  positive stubbornness which provides the seeds for stamina and strength. The bold determination to carve out a life for myself.  The confidence that I can and will solve problems and make decisions that empower me. And the faith that all will be well no matter what.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sipping Freedom

Credit: www.nobigdill.com

 

Tori pushed the pedal to the metal as she rounded the curve on the not yet familiar rural road. The predawn air was cool but she had rolled down the top of her jeep anyway. Eager to breathe in the scent of pine and dirt and cleanse herself of last night’s forays and rumblings. She hadn’t any time to shower.  With a nearly two-hour drive back and her kids to get off to school and herself to get off to work,  a shower fell off the list of things to do.

This was the first night she spent at Max’s place. Normally, he would stay at her house when her kids were with their father. But the modest cape on the suburban cul-de-sac was at once gossip central in her neighborhood and at odds with the passionate love affair she had recently begun with Max. She wanted and needed a separation between her life as a mother and a newly single woman.  Lack of privacy seemed the norm once you had children. Neighbors and friends always asking after them and their activities, how they were doing in school. Inevitably, the conversation steered towards you and your interests and activities. That’s what people were after anyway.

She stole a glance at the early spring sky. Sunrise soon. The few clouds a wispy gray and brushstrokes of tangerine. She buried her wish to be free of  the chains of motherhood. She loved her children.  Aslain and Anton were precocious 11-year-old twins who kept her on her toes. Both demanding and entertaining. Full of spunk. Truly replicas of herself at that age and what she continued to be  until her marriage to Eddie sucked her self out of herself.

The ride on this road was the beginning of her new beginning.  An awakening and a reawakening.  She sipped her coffee Max brewed for her as she attempted to dress herself.  For each zip of her fly and buttoning of her shirt, he would be doing the opposite until she finally gave up. They made love one last time while waiting for the coffee to finish.  She knew she was half dressed and still moist and she didn’t care. It tasted good.

She shifted into fifth and roared down the highway.

 

Kellie Elmore offered us the best challenge ever for Free Write Friday.  This piece has been stirring inside me since last fall. And it has been trying to tell itself more so than ever this week.  Just haven’t been able to get the words down. So here’s the start of something I hope!

 

You have a story in you. Everyone does. And I challenge you to take the first step toward telling it. The prompt this week can only come from you. That idea you once had. Or maybe it’s that idea you just had. That story that hasn’t been told that you want to hear, it needs you to bring it to life. And it all begins with one step. That first opening line on that first page of that first chapter. What does it say? That is your prompt.  

Just see how far it takes you. 🙂

The Magic of a Long Run

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One of my favorite parts of the week is Sunday morning. Actually, Sunday mornings when I am training for another half-marathon to be precise.  By the time I have laced up my shoes, I have already mapped out the run in my head. There is a kernel of excitement and an inner energy stirring in my brain. I feel almost twitchy in my muscles (stretched to near perfection from Saturday morning’s 90 minute marathon of hot yoga!).

I am what you call a running purist. I keep things simple. No doodads or hoohas of technology adorn my body. No solid foods for energy boosting during the run. Definitely water, though. I have been known to place water bottles at strategic mile markers along a route as I despise water belts (although I own one and have worn it from time to time) They interfere with my stride, really. I actually prefer a loved one to meet me along the course with liquid refreshment; it’s a great incentive to keep going!

That being said, there are times when I have too many thoughts spinning in my head and demons dominating my domain. Most of the time, a straight-on run with the sounds of nature give me peace. But on the rare occasion when music is a soothing solution, I confiscate my oldest son’s Ipod. You never know what you will find  when you listen, just as you never know how you’ll expect to feel as your feet hit the pavement and pound out mile after mile. The music is the best kind of mix. I can be cruising along and Wyclef Jean will pop on, only to be followed by John Coltrane and then Adele. Seventies rock, Dave Matthews, Lady Gaga, Brad Paisley and Frank Sinatra keep me company on my ever changing route.

On this particular Sunday, I chose a more challenging route than usual.  Of course, the area where I live does not lack for hills but the route I planned has more than its usual share. And to add to the pain, the last 3 miles were essentially uphill!  At times during a run, the most difficult parts of a course can reek havoc on my mental strength- most especially when I feel vulnerable or have a lot on my plate. And this is where my rare use of the Ipod comes in handy.

With 2.5 miles or so to go,  a favorite song of mine came on. Martina McBride’s “Independence Day” is a piece that gives me strength and makes me want to shout out loud.  Although I have not directly experienced the exact situation spoken of in the song, the theme certainly is the same.  The refrain, ‘let freedom ring’ is my anthem! And days or hours or even minutes when the devil of the past pokes me, this song lifts me up. I was so grateful for the timing. I was dog tired with fatigue and I had six more hills to climb. With each refrain, I was able to dig deep, lean in and lift my legs (needless to say, I replayed it!). With a mile to go, the hills were done and so was the Ipod.  The battery gave out just in time and I ran the last mile in perfect peace.

And really, this is all I need. Quiet and room to breathe. A means to slough off the negative energy that invades my spirit sometimes.  I haven’t felt as good on my subsequent runs this week as I did on Sunday, but that is okay. The mornings have been cool and beautiful with the sun rising earlier each minute. The birds serenade my miles.

I think of Sunday and dream of distance.

 

The Road of Regret

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A light rain settled on his windshield

Little droplets of tears resting at eye view

The April morning more like November

Raw, gray, bone seeping dankness

Void of color

Empty of Hope

Unsure of what he was seeking

He came from another place

Driving down Main Street

His truck making a detour back to a life he once knew

A quarter century ago

Half his age plus two now

His mind drifting to the covenant he made

on this same April day

Did he hope to see her?

He pulled into a vacant spot

The rain growing colder

Pelting his windshield

Sharp pieces of pain

He shivered and walked to the storefront of her favorite cafe’

His eyes peeled for the woman who was once his bride

Too late once again

She remained hidden

Traveling another route

Building her new dreams

Forging her own paths

And breathing a life-long sigh

That he didn’t see her pass him right by

 

 

Day 30 of the challenge. Last but not least…

A Self-Portrait in Flowers

Credit: www.schooloffinehearts.net

 

I am no shy wallflower or shrinking violet

No pansy that wilts in the cold

 

Perhaps I am a Daisy:

Spirited and filled with the joyful innocence of a child

 Or Baby’s Breath:

Magnificent and Sublime seeing the beauty in all things

Maybe a Chrysanthemum :

Speaking my  truth and wearing my cape of honesty

 Definitely a Freesia:

Exuding positive energy

 Or Better yet a Gardenia:

Pure joy never postponed

Never a doubt about Gladiolus:

Strength and determination. I wear my sword well!

 My armor-  A Hydrangea:

Resolved to persevere

 A Lavender Chick For Sure:

Gorgeous and fragrant and exotic with the promise of new adventure

 A Magnolia of Steel (of course):

Unrelenting  dignity

Orchid: It makes me sigh:

Always I feel the pull of powerful romantic desire!

Happy Hour

Credit: www.lynnegolodner.com

Black coffee in bed

The morning quiet adding the sweetness to my first sip

My day unfolds with no set plans

A run in the rain

I lose myself in dreams

My body a zen-like stream

as I am carried over these endless rises

A heated cleansing

The ritual soothing to the double digit distance

Stomach empty- a primal hunger invades

I sip and sup listening to Saturday stories

The day turns raw

I shelter myself  baking, laundering and dancing 

A spontaneous urge propels me out the door 

Seeking sustenance

I turn my wheels and spy two mates

We gather at the bar

Coffee, Tea for they and me

Tall tales Told (gosh are we getting old!)

Time flies by

We leave and say goodbye

I arrive at the stead new plans ahead 

Dinner to make or should I bake? 

The night is a pup

At five, I fill my cup

One needs to dine with a good fine wine!

 

Day 26 of the Challenge. For my friends L and J: Thanks for being a part of my day! XO

Once upon a Time

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What once was daunting is now empowering

What once had me nearly on my knees has given me wings

What once left me stoic in silence has made me loquacious with laughter

What once gave me grief  has given me the gift of profound joy

What once left me shackled, tied to the metaphorical bedpost

has posted bail and declared me innocent and unbound

What once left me invisible has made me someone worth remembering

What once left me feeling lonely and isolated

has made me feel inhabited in my solitude

and a gleeful player on the world’s stage

A Grifter’s Rap

Credit: gatesofpower.com

Would you ever really know if your beloved strayed?

Or would you believe that you’ve been duplicitously played?

His absences explained so charmingly

As you played your role so willingly

You hang on long for the children’s sake

As you think he still loves you

Those vows he would not break

But he did so again and again

Not always with another

But with the click of a pen

When at last he made the ultimate exit

That last gasp to leave

You thought it was with money

That he did deceive

To fall in with another was too hard to believe

Looking back on it now-it was so long ago

All those scenes so intense 

And his emotions: a mere pretense 

You realize SHE was his reason for love’s final blow

But no matter now, this memory is like vapor

A mischievous muse’s attempt at a silly old caper

The mind goes awry

No need to know why

He’s nothing but a blip in your mind’s eye

The Mighty Fall

Øyvind Gregersen

Øyvind Gregersen

 

The mighty warrior of freedom had grown weary

Her values trampled upon

Pieces of her principles pulled away

Her mirror image tarnished by corporate forces

Waving their claim as ‘people too’

as an excuse to influence the laws of the land

Rights to vote

Rights to assemble

Rights to privacy

Rights of access narrowed

under the guise of false frauds, false gods and false enemies

Created through the soft wars on color, orientation and women and the poor

 Leaving us all with the question: What does freedom mean to you?

 

 

Ms. Kellie Elmore gave us quite the provocative image prompt this week:

Use the image at the following link as your inspiration. I can’t wait to read the responses to this one! http://1x.com/photo/45546/

Well, I never like to get too opinionated about issues given that we lack a civil discourse these days. I am a woman of strong convictions based on my life experiences.  Five decades worth certainly means something! But my beliefs are mine and I do not expect to share the same ones or to convince others that I am right.  Actually, the image reminded me of  a book I once read that has stayed with me for a long time. Margaret Atwood’s  “The Handmaid’s Tale” was written in 1985 and I read it shortly after it was published.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Handmaid%27s_Tale). I highly recommend it.

What Can I Tell You?

Credit: tinybuddha.com

I cannot tell you that it will not hurt

That the psychic pain will sear you

burn you to your very core

I cannot tell you that your body will become a wasteland

that you will look like a refugee from the worst of domestic wars

That you will feel like a starved prisoner

trapped in a situation for which you have no control

I cannot tell you that you will not worry

That every movement will be fraught with fear about your future

That you will be staring down that black hole of endless bills and debt

I cannot tell you that you will not be angry

Foaming and raging at the actions and constant manipulations of the other

That his need for control will feel like another constraint and strangulation

 

I can tell you that the pain will fold itself into the dark corners of your heart

That your body once again will be fertile ground

I can tell you that you will become a citizen of your own nation

a freed captive with a belly full of self-protecting ammunition

I can tell you that every advance will be fueled by your freedom

That the once endless abyss of scarcity will overflow with abundance

 I can tell you that your resentment will replaced by indifference 

that you will be the mistress of your own destiny

and the  queen of your own kingdom