Sunday, February 12, 2012

Bound to the boundless

There’s this notion that poetry is dead.  I don’t believe that it is dead.  I believe it’s just been swept up under the cloth in the breadbasket, left for stale crumbs and pigeon food.  People are starved for the stuff but have forgotten its existence.  One bite might be enough to nourish these underprivileged, unaware masses for a decade, but it is not enough.   And what of those who feast from it regularly…. Made to feel alien by the rest of humanity?  Undeserving of the riches they share and fight for, but un-wanting of them as well.

When you think about how tightly woven poetry and philosophy are you  can easily take a quick glance around to see why it has not got the first chance at holding a tight grip over these lost and lonely people.  Belief is easier, and belief comes with it’s own set standards for wordly and worldly appreciation.  Anything that might cross over the bounds is considered unworthy.
My framework is constructed so that everything that begins to creep beyond traditional boundaries is the start of worth.  Of meaning.  Of exploration.  Of imagination.  Creep away, for that is where you’ll find the true substance of life and living.  Of existential crisises boiling to a head and frothing over the pot to evaporate on the burners below.  That’s where it just begins to get good.
I'm looking forward to the warmer waters of the gulf.  Cradled by the boundlessness of it I am in every moment, but that soothing gentle rock can not be simply imagined, it must be felt and carried, refreshed by reality at least annually ... for there is where I find my most genuine poetry. 

Friday, February 10, 2012

Focus Pocus

It never gets any less creepy or endearing. Hi! :)

In any event, I've come to the sudden realization that my cowardice has left me in the bad decision boat more often than not but in this most recent circumstance it probably kept me out of prison.  Had I inflamed the situation with my terrorist of a grandfather, I'm not sure the capacity to cease fire would have been within me.  So! With this tidbit of new found knowledge I'm trekking forward once more.
 
The courses I'm coursing through academically have given me a solid foundation of information for the inborn concepts I already understood on a primitive level and now that I'm moving forward with the dream I've come to realize that I do indeed have goals, and they involve changing the face of our health care system.

With my still quite small children my focus will be primarily on them until such a time as I can safely release them into the wild.  Until then... foundation expansion, self-improvement, networking, learning, loving, and skill building.  It's the perfect plan! 

My connections with various non-profit organizations need to grow as I embark on my idea for a book series.  A strategy for survival, and raising awareness, helping, loving, improving all rolled into one.  My addiction to darkness notwithstanding, I believe the cure for such a DIS-ease is that of through and not around.

Altering my focus has never been a task I've enjoyed, until now.  Recognizing the power of this cognitive trick was not easy, and I am still learning and with any amount of effort I am certain that the learning will never end.  
First thing is first, copyright research. :)

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Of course she didn't.

Excuses.
Addictions.
Sleep.

Get up from there, on your feet!

Whatever do you mean by control?
Oh, you mean self-control.

This morning on Anderson Cooper's new daytime talk show....
While watching with a client as I clobbered dust bunnies and window smudges...
They spoke of exactly the kind of marriage that leads abused folks to murder.

I did not think so much of my own hellish marriage, as I finally had the good sense and courage to leave and have mostly recovered from whatever battle wounds were inflicted, but she, my sweet, sweet Granny. She, after 50 years of marriage has not yet discovered the joy, beauty, and freedom of what it means to not be bullied on a daily basis. 

Last week, when he raised his fist at her in front of me, in front of my children... I had visions of horror coursing through my mind... and I wonder if she's ever had them too.  I wonder if it will eventually lead to that devastating phone call "He's finally done it, she's dead."  Or if she will ever stand up for herself, and make it out of there.  I know she wants out, but I think she still has faith in his capacity to change.  We have Christianity to thank for that sort of endearing commitment. 

How can I blame her for not standing up when I didn't either.  I just ran away.  

I just ran away like the frightful, cowardly little girl I was two decades ago.  Like I did from my husband.  Like I always do. 

So after two weeks of extraordinary bliss, light, wakefulness, and productivity I have again fallen.  I have not let him take from me that joy, but I stole it from myself when I refused to fight.  So then what do you mean by control?  I have as much control in this as I ever did.  Happiness is still lingering someplace near the superficial shores of my existence, but I'm deep sea diving into unknown waters.  Unexamined territory.  Always a new discovery, always a struggle to get there and return alive.

She will never leave him.  This will not go away. 
So into and out of and around myself I go,
to find the strength and courage to finally tell this terrorist "NO!"