Archive for July 12th, 2010


Been listening to Abe, the most recent, for just a bit today.  I wondered how long I was going to poke around in the problem/solution before I was done.  Then I thought I better quit poking unless I want said problem/solution bigger.

Then of course it occurs to me this “better quit poking” is all about control/fear.  I cop to all of it being about control/fear.  I get up in the middle of the night, open the shades to check outside and make sure there isn’t what? a boogeyman out there.  Some new contrast to come bite me in the ass, when I’m not looking, so if I look it will bite less? :)

This whole idea that I have to glean some message out of what happened, learn the lesson, grok it, understand it, make sure I expand out of it, is also all about control/fear.  As if, if I really get the lesson, I pass go and I won’t be sent back to contrast jail.  Perhaps I’ll visit but I won’t miss my turn.  So there.  :)

I am still poking around, I guess.  When my Mom said don’t touch the stove, it’s hot, I had to check to make sure.  However, this is not the same as putting my hand in the fire.  I am just checking/poking around in temperature levels, got that Universe?  Good.

Bless my little pea-pickin’ fearful self.  What I really want to do is pluck the full ripe blossoms and let the juices spill out over the corners of my mouth.  I want pea-pickin’ fearful girl to fall away and slip off of me like so much of nothing.

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So I purposely haven’t written about the big event that happened at our house the night after summer solstice, when it is said “the veils are thin”.  If you read Songbirds Amidst the Wreckage, then you might have guessed it.  I can say that several changes have been made in my life since then but still I sense there’s something more.  Maybe there’s a whole string of something mores.  Until I can write a happy, expansive conclusion to that particular event, then I’ll write other things or quote some of my favorite people and maybe re-run a few oldies but goodies.

I’ll be out of town three times this month which is good because my inclination has been to curl up at home and stick with what is known and what is contained and unchangeable.  Instead, I’ll stretch myself again into the nether reaches of this great country we live in.  Ok, it’s only Pennsylvania, Portland and the Cascades but it is departing from the familiar comforts of home.

For now, I leave you with a poem from Mary Oliver.  One of the great poets whose words leave an indelible ink stain on my heart.


May I never not be frisky,
May I never not be risque.

May my ashes, when you have them, friend,
and give them to the ocean,

leap in the froth of the waves,
still loving movement,

still ready, beyond all else,
to dance for the world.

~Mary Oliver~
Evidence: Poems by Mary Oliver

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