Composite... Conundrum...

(Photo from inside my daughter's card board kaleidoscope, taken with my cell phone.)


I've been away, a bit. My head in the clouds, so to speak. (And those of you who are becoming on to me and my sneaky ways may find clue or reason to read into that statement if you like...) And feeling a bit out of sorts...

I've been pondering, passively this blog. Where I would like it to go. Or take me. Or me it.

In the beginning, there were reasons to be anonymous. If I post things, drafts I've written, then there still are strongly those reasons. And certainly, it is a gift to have a safe place away from ordinary public life as a respite and forum for expression...

And yet.

While it feels perfectly logical to be anonymous, especially living in a suburb of one of the most paranoid cities on the planet, I feel a bit of a loss. I really enjoy sharing myself with you. But do I in this current way share more of myself? Or am I sharing less? Certainly, in just the possibility that I may not remain forever anonymous, and in the enjoyment of sincerely getting to know some of you, there are a few posts, written and unwritten which I am now more hesitant to move out of DRAFT form...

So that is where I am right now. Happy but perhaps at a crossroads, a point of synthesizing what I've got and waiting to see what becomes. (And wondering how a tiny sniffle can leave one so flat out exhausted...)

Thank you, all of you!

I do so appreciate you.

Circe

Reprieve... CONNECTION!

Thank you, all of you, for your sympathy, empathy really.

I feel joyfully foolish, though certainly not foolishly joyful!

I have found the cousins I was seeking. An address now listed as a different town than the one we refer to, listed as one I believed to be miles to the east, a telephone listing and newspaper mentions using a different first name, and with it numerous locations... a map that looks different-- more streets than I remember, than possibly there were when I visited that magical crossroads.



Found found found! And when I called what I thought to be this "other location", to see if there was any current affiliation with the family from "that" town, the young girl said, "Oh I wouldn't know; I'm new and not related to the family here... "And proceeded to refer me to my father's cousin, directly! (TG)

We have spoken, and emailed. My heart is replete. My joy is returned.

I feel silly to have suffered seemingly needlessly, though on further introspection, further assimilation or perhaps in stillness and serenity, I see the need for such experiences; to be called, to be galvanized to do that which we would put off again for another day, which we will certainly not have limitless tomorrows to accomplish. A gift.

Second miracle:

Amazingly enough, my spouse, who has endured my tears and joys and entreaties to go back, had an experience tonight. Away on business, and sharing experiences after a work session, someone told of their 2 trips to Ireland. When asked what part was the ultimate for them, they shared a story of a family pub where they were so very welcomed on their first trip; a warm magical place. When the time came for their second visit, years later, they found themselves traveling 400 miles out of their way to return to this wonderful family and their pub. They couldn't leave without seeing them once more. They named the place, the town, the family I was searching for-- the very ones! I am overwhelmed... this cannot be mere coincidence. Their magic is evident, as is the magic that is spurring me on now, to make this trip!

In all that I have experienced and surrendered these past months, too, I feel the cycle of life is bringing to me the exercise of surrender, so that when the big storms come, I am not brittle, do not break...

>

For eventually, the bigger storms do come.

Just not today.

;)

ps Noreen, Ciara, and anyone else, please? If you figure it out, please don't give me away! I tell you, the world is getting smaller, as I am becoming more transparent, every day... as is my true nature I suppose... ;)

To my heart's desires, bosom buddies, ethereality of my ethos, in other words, all of you.

Two Poems by Nikki Giovanni

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikki_Giovanni

Winter Poem

once a snowflake fell

on my brow and i loved

it so much and i kissed

it and it was happy and called its cousins

and brothers and a web

of snow engulfed me then

i reached to love them all

and i squeezed them and they became

a spring rain and i stood perfectly

still and was a flower

Written by Nikki Giovanni

Kidnap Poem

Ever been kidnapped by a poet

if i were a poet i'd kidnap you

put you in my phrases and meter
You to jones beach or maybe coney island

or maybe just to my house

lyric you in lilacs

dash you in the rain

blend into the beach

to complement my see

Play the lyre for you

ode you with my love song

anything to win you wrap you in the red Black green

show you off to mama

yeah if i were a poet i'd kid

nap you

Written by Nikki Giovanni

Stop the world, please...? And rewind?

The public house (Pub) operated since 1927 in Ireland by my father's cousin's family, seems to be gone. I can find no trace of the family I lost touch with... I sent email, but it came back returned. As of 1 year ago, the darts match results were still being posted there according to the newspaper... They are still listed in an online tourism guide, but that was last copyrighted in 2003! How can I have let so much time slip by without contacting them? I am just one of many American cousins who have likely visited them over the years with my now ailing Father and otherwise... But they are rare and special to me. So kind and warm and generous... I thought there would be time, that they would remain, be there...

The "Land Owner's House" where we stayed is no longer operating either-- has become a private residence...

I am so completely crushed, flattened, bereft...

Never a more magical time to me than that trip, and nothing so miraculous than the time spent there, on the seaside, stepping briefly, welcomed, into the life of that family, that town...

I am so ashamed of all the times I planned to write, to send a tin of Christmas treats, to return, to visit... and did not.

Too many things to grieve right now, things lost, and things soon to be lost...

How can one heart be so full and yet so empty, sinking and yet floating... soaring above the things I grasp for, to say goodbye, and yet pull them back to me once more.

Clear Horizon

Look around - it's almost summer

Yet there's winter in her heart

You could never love another

Still, can your fire melt her ice...

Can your fire melt her ice

Seasons change, you cry in silence

For the love you cannot live without

You've done your best, you tried your hardest

The time has come, be strong, give it up

All you need is a clear horizon,A clear horizon

All we wish is everyday,

Hope and pray,

For all of us

A clear and quiet sky

The darkest night is slowly fading

And the sun willl come out to blind your eyes

Could it be a new beginning?

Trust yourself - you're an angel, you can fly

Trust yourself - you're an angel, you can

All we need is a clear horizon...
by Basia

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime... or, SOME OF THE REASONS THIS IS AN ANONYMOUS BLOG

Firstly, I'd like to thank those of you whom I follow, and who follow me, for your lovely heart touching prose. I am verily nourished by it, and your generosity is a blessing to my days.

I began this blog, perhaps with such thoughts in mind, to plumb the depths of my Self through writing. Certainly no poet, and with no real expectations as to what would occur whence I placed finger tips to silvery keys, I sought a hearts journey of discovery, and means by which to express that which was within, and that which was currently developing within me.

I am apparently at current time better at being "touched" than at touching... I don't seek to compare my writings to yours, and yet thus far find my better self when reading rather than when writing. I don't question my own depth; certainly it has been too much for the common good in past, and perhaps I shrink from divulging it. Or perhaps this is the lot most of us draw, to be witness to the sublime rather than create it. Most likely, I am not trusting myself to surrender those places yet. I thank you all for being here with me! I do not embrace 'VOID' nor tarry with nothingness; your company is cherished. I only hope that if in not yet "moving" you, I should at very least entertain you.

I welcome all your comments, as always.

Many thanks.

Keep writing!

Namaste

Circe

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun, nor the furious winter's rages, thou thy worldly task hast done; home art gone and ta'en thy wages..."

The time for sadness is over. The river is swollen with tears, and melted snow, and rather than find it beautiful, I look at it with more than a little disdain...

Time to move on, to move forward. What you resist persists. I did not resist, I let it all go. Magic. A new day.

That there is much much more to this than I can ever write about, is irrelevant. I must be for myself what I am so automatically for others: CHEERLEADER. The only problem is, I know the weak areas where my cheers are less than sincere... still. Too damn bad.

I must be at the bottom of the hill, the person I claimed to be when on high, at highest peak:

One who intentionally and consciously embraces:

PEACE JOY LOVE.

sh*t.

;)

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renownéd be thy grave! -- William Shakespeare

ne sutor ultra crepidam

It has all become over-proofed. Like the dough, too long, the yeast extended to it's greatest, and it's product, co2, has run out of space to expand-- poof... there is nothing else to contain it. Odd that what has been experienced as joy, and potential joy, life changing energy, loosed for the common good, imperceptibly perceived by all, for weeks, even months, should escape as grief...

After all, joy is not happiness. They are not interchangeable. My heart has been inexplicably full, and I have been grateful. It has been evidenced in real (however transitory) changes in my life, my relationships, my perspective.

And yet, here I am, in grief.

My father is slipping away... I need to see him, to talk to him, to be with him, and yet am not able. Obstacles, which I allow, and obstacles outside anyone's control, get in the way. I experience him alone, without him here. Yet, he is not gone. Not yet, but slipping, slipping...

My teenager no longer needs me like once upon a time-- I never imagined how painful that could be. I embrace it in theory, yet my heart... it does not. Not yet. I know the person he needs to become, but transition is difficult; letting go of a connection, even relatively little by little, to a heart that was once so completely bound up in your own, is painful. It tears at me, causes me to behave outside of the love that I feel, and I am ashamed.

My hoped for friend, friendship offered, gently proffered, is not. I can no longer. How strange that I should feel so real a connection to one who claims their heart is closed, that life is trivial, that no real human connection can ever be made. How strange that our conversations awakened in me a recognition of the freeing nature of sublime beauty, of tragedy, of interconnectedness. How strange that their words should be cosmically moving to me, through no intent of their own, nor any recognition. Perhaps it is my own unwitting perception of this human tragedy that made our brief acquaintanceship so poignant. Yet I believe, I know there is more to it than that.

I am an adult, not some teen with grand illusions, nor hoped for allusions... I am not naive. So often cynical in the past, I now strive to intentionally create my own life's reality, with that which is within my power, and yet. And yet.

There are things I am powerless to control. Such a balance to be struck.

Soon, the door will open-- less than 5 minutes. The time for peace, for pure, shoulder shaking grief will rapidly wither, the pile of spent snowman napkins will be thrown away.

And I will go on with the duties in front of me, grateful for this pain-- that it should find an appropriate time, that it should be released. For now. I will go on with my day.


William Shakespeare:
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Carl Jung:
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.

W T H... Enchanted, but not yet April

So, I'm wondering-- when did I become all the female characters (all over again, in HD) in the film Enchanted April? I'm the quietly persevering one, who is suddenly sought after, the oh so eccentric, ready for a change, weird insight one, who's spouse finally sees how awesome she is, the overly social one who's pain no-one will likely ever see who JUST NEEDS SOME QUIET TIME ALONE, and the old docent dowager, undergoing transformation: "What is this feeling as though I will suddenly burst OUT!... no no that won't do at all...." I do feel as though I just can't contain this (whatever THIS is) much longer... but what is it?



Opiates, oxytocin (inappropriately and mysteriously engendered!) chakra energy... what the heck?


Each character undergoes a transformation... lovely...


Maybe they each comprise an aspect of everywoman, as Jack Lemon is an everyman, yet it never felt so much so as now for me... Something is different...







If you haven't yet seen
this film YOU MUST!