grieving all things

it is nearing my 67th birthday.  i'm not sure how i feel about this.  part of me is mourning the passage of time and how little seems to be left considering most of my life is now behind me.  in my mind i have always told myself i'll live to be a ripe old age of 88.  in reality i know the odds of that a slim considering my health issues.  the other part of me is grateful for the time i have had and have left and that i am still capable of looking after myself and having somewhat of a life, although not quite the one i would like.

i mourn the life i knew at one time...the country life, growing my own produce and living more naturally and happily.  i know i can never go back and in some ways i wouldn't want to.  but i get down because there are things i cannot do alone.  things i want to do.  i sometimes feel i have no support, no one to help.  well actually that's not a feeling, that's the truth of it. and i often don't mind being alone.  in fact i sometimes prefer it. but i don't like feeling alone.  i admit, there are times when i greatly miss having a partner to not just share the load, but to feel supported. 

tonight i felt as if i were mourning my past life, my current life, those i have lost in life and those i'm on the verge of losing.  it doesn't help that covid is still a major factor in outings and living in a small town offers little of interest.  maybe i'm just focusing on the negative tonight.  all i know is i feel overwhelmed and dismal. all i want to do is eat, cry and smoke a cigarette. the latter i won't do but not doing it is why i've gained wait and gaining weight is why i'm hating on myself.

i want this coming birthday week to be a good one, one of celebration.  right now that feels impossible.  

we are not wrong to feel as we do

 

Poem: Mário de Andrade - The Valuable Time of Maturity

I counted my years

and realized that

I have less time to live by,

than I have lived so far.

I have more past than future.

I feel like that boy who got a bowl of cherries.

At first, he gobbled them,

but when he realized there were only few left,

he began to taste them intensely.

I no longer have time to deal with mediocrity.

I do not want to be in meetings where flamed egos parade.

I am bothered by the envious,

who seek to discredit the most able,

to usurp their places, coveting their seats,

talent, achievements and luck.

I do not have time for endless conversations,

useless to discuss about the lives of others

who are not part of mine.

I no longer have the time to manage

sensitivities of people who despite their chronological age, are immature.

I hate to confront those that struggle for power,

those that ‘do not debate content, just the labels’.

My time has become scarce to debate labels,

I want the essence.

My soul is in a hurry …

Not many cherries in my bowl,

I want to live close to human people, very human,

who laugh of their own stumbles,

and away from those turned smug

and overconfident with their triumphs,

away from those filled with self-importance.

The essential is what makes life worthwhile.

And for me, the essentials are enough!

Yes, I’m in a hurry.

I’m in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give.

I do not intend to waste any of the remaining cherries.

I am sure they will be exquisite, much more than those eaten so far.

My goal is to reach the end satisfied

and at peace with my loved ones and my conscience.

And per Confucius “We have two lives

and the second begins when you realize you only have one.”

i am from

something i penned a couple of years ago...

I am from the the hills of Kentucky and the small towns and countryside of Ohio , from factories and farms.

I am from hay wagons and pickup trucks to waiting on big yellow school buses at the end of the driveway.

I am from family reunions under the huge oak tree in Granddaddy's valley and swimming in Black River, from big red barns, corn cribs and walks down country roads.

I am from Mom's wood cook stove and Granddaddy's smokehouse, summer gardens and putting food by.

I am from hand me downs and hand made quilts, making do and “waste not, want not”, from Granddaddy's love of small wild things and Grandmother's grace in an apron.

I am from poetry, guitars, fiddles and old songs to rock and roll, from baby dolls and playing house to the Beatles, Bob Dylan and mini skirts.

I am from bare wood floors, pot belly stoves and shivering after a bath.

I am from Saturday trips to town, five and dimes and stocking up when you can.

I am from Daddy's work ethic and Mom's ingenuity, from fried chicken, fluffy white biscuits with milk gravy and old metal lunch boxes.

I am from endless summer days, red rover red rover, and a fresh drink of water from the outdoor pump, from, “don't come in until I call you”, July nights of catching lightning bugs in canning jars to watch them glow under the covers, blanket tents and transistor radios.

I am from respecting your elders and being seen and not heard.

I come from hard work, resilience and making the best of what you have.

I am who I am because of where I come from. I carry the spirit of the past and my ancestors with me.

 

s.cooper

echo

i didn't let you see me cry when you left for home today.

i thought i wouldn't cry at all, but once you were on the road

i did.

you see, when you leave there's always this empty space

in my home and my heart where we lived and loved together

for a few days.

i think some people are meant to be together

because each other is their destiny and anytime apart 

is too much time wasted. 

and i think that's us, but i know...

i know it's too soon and it's too big of a thing 

for us to consider and maybe it always will be

and i'm not unhappy with the way things are,

but when you leave there is a hollow 

where the absence of you

is so very loud it echoes.

 

 

 

a man who takes his time

Have you ever met a man who takes his time? A man so in tune with your energy, your mood, your expression that he knows what you need without an explanation?

A man who doesn't push you away when you're upset or frustrated. A man who knows how to stand with firmness and calm in his masculine while your feminine works it out.

He's taken time to get to know your mind and your body. He sees you, he listens to the little things, even when you don't know he's listening.

He learned how to connect with your mind and he's learned how to touch your body. He's able to slow things down and read your body's response to his touch. He doesn't rush, he's not pleasing you for his own release. It's for you with no expectation, no pressure, no manipulation, no games.

You can let go because he's created a space of absolute respect and trust. He knows when to kiss you softly, when to hold you gently or when to consume your mind and body with masculine power and intensity.

Only a man who takes his time gives a woman time to experience every level of response, layer by layer, deeper and deeper until her mind, body and soul all explode together.

Only a man who takes his time can give her a release of what lays caged beneath her surface. And only a man who takes his time will ever glimpse the heights of ecstasy a woman is capable of, her secret remains hidden to all others.

Author: Jennifer Funk

(my response to the question asked at the beginning of this essay is yes, i have met this man and i fell in love with him)

another gem from john

 

 

I can't think of

anything more

boring

than living by

the expectations

of other people

let the hens gossip

and cluck and clack

whenever you walk

into the room with your

mismatched socks and

stardust falling out

of your wild pink hair

because in a little while

when you get up to leave

to continue on with

your adventure

every single one of them

will secretly wish that

they were going with you

~ john roedel (johnroedel.com)

a bit of wisdom from john roedel

came across this man's writings on fb and after checking his page, found this gem:

I have now taken 47.5 lumbering trips around the sun to observe the human experience and here is a brief recap on a little I have learned so far:

The angriest people are usually
the ones who are the most afraid.

Empathy is a very under-taught
subject in our schools.

People who can’t laugh at themselves
make for terrible comedians.

If you mix Daiquiri Ice and Chocolate
ice cream at Baskin Robbins you’ll know
exactly what heaven tastes like.

Not enough people take the time
to jump in puddles.

We somehow normalized giving
our guns baby names and naming
our babies after guns.

The inside of our eyelids play
the same monster movies over and over.

Dandelions aren’t weeds. No, they aren’t. Stop arguing with me.

A womb is a temple of miracles where souls and bodies form the most perfectly strange communities.

By the way, hospice beds are the exact same.

Politics make for terrible eyeglasses
to see the world through.

There are not enough books written about lighthouses and way too many about vampires.

We take part in so many things that
don’t bring us joy all in the name of “tradition”.

The best naps happen during rainstorms.

Our cell phones have more plans
than our actual lives.

We fetishize butterflies a little
too much, I mean, come on.

Kissing is magic. If a kiss doesn’t
feel magical then it isn’t one. It’s just
lip chores.

We choose if the holes in our hearts
kill us or turn us into woodwind instruments.

Rivers have taught me as much about God
as Sunday School ever did.

If we stare up into the stars long enough
we will feel this little tug on the threads of
our spirit. It will be like the pull of a magnet.
We are drawn upwards. We are attracted to
the expanse. We are being called to return
where it is we came from. We come to know
that everything out there in the endless field
of celestial delights came from the same burst
of creation that eventually formed us. And those
thoughts are gently pulling on us every time we
gaze up into the night sky.

Trees make really wonderful life coaches.

Whenever we hold hands with each other
our pulses try their best to synchronize.

There should be an Olympic sport
that is all about untangling extension cords.

Eating a hamburger while sitting
on the hood of a car is something
people should go do more often.

Our memories should never have
walls to them. We should be able
to visit them without getting stuck.

We treat grief like it’s a summer storm
-as if it’s a temporary event that will
quickly pass. It won’t. Grief is a comet.
It terraforms our world.
Grief doesn’t always destroy us - but it
changes the shape of our continents.

We hide too much beautiful art in places
where we only people who don’t care
about art can afford to see it.

I think whomever created pulp-free orange juice didn’t quite understand what orange juice is.

Sex in movies makes people cringe more than
mass murder in movies and that probably makes the angels weep.

Mothers should be given 10% discounts. Everywhere.

The best name any flower has ever
been given is “Baby’s Breath”.

Kindness is elemental.

A slow drive down a dirt road with the exact right song playing can be a baptism.

I’m hopeful that we have finally
reached the saturation point
of reality tv shows involving
angry neighbors and retired judges.

Although, I can’t quite prove it yet, I think every gust of wind is a ghost trying to win a race.

Our hearts are sponges. What we put in is what squeezes out.

When we fall in love we don’t actually fall. We float. We become weightless.

We have turned the expectations of other people into anchors that we wear our our necks. We are curving our spines by trying to fit in.

Airplanes look they shouldn’t work but somehow they do and we just get over it ~and that is the kind of shoulder shrugging we should do for people who live their lives in ways that we don’t understand.

Listening to new music is an easy way to turn our minds into gates instead of bank vaults.

People are good - some of them just forget it.

We put way too many people in prisons, boxes, their places, in timeout and in hell.

If the universe can still be expanding after all this time then I should willing to do the same. Every morning we become a newborn galaxy. Every breath we take is a baby sun. Every word of kindness we speak can build a new Earth in someone else’s heart.

Nobody can tell you how to heal.

There should be more cupcakes. I know
there are already a bunch of cupcakes, I
just think there should be more.

~ john roedel (johnroedel.com)

the "too much" woman

 “There she is. . . the “too much” woman. The one who loves too hard, feels too deeply, asks too often, desires too much.

There she is taking up too much space, with her laughter, her curves, her honesty, her sexuality. Her presence is as tall as a tree, as wide as a mountain. Her energy occupies every crevice of the room. Too much space she takes.

She is dangerous.

And there she goes, that “too much” woman, making people think too much, feel too much, swoon too much. She with her authentic prose and a self-assuredness in the way she carries herself. She with her belly laughs and her insatiable appetite and her proneness to fiery passion. All eyes on her, thinking she’s hot shit.

Oh, that “too much” woman. . . too loud, too vibrant, too honest, too emotional, too smart, too intense, too pretty, too difficult, too sensitive, too wild, too intimidating, too successful, too fat, too strong, too political, too joyous, too needy—too much.

She should simmer down a bit, be taken down a couple notches. Someone should put her back in a more respectable place. Someone should tell her.

Here I am. . . a Too Much Woman, with my too-tender heart and my too-much emotions.

A hedonist, feminist, pleasure seeker, empath. I want a lot—justice, sincerity, spaciousness, ease, intimacy, actualization, respect, to be seen, to be understood, your undivided attention, and all of your promises to be kept.

I’ve been called high maintenance because I want what I want, and intimidating because of the space I occupy. I’ve been called selfish because I am self-loving. I’ve been called a witch because I know how to heal myself.

And still. . . I rise. Still, I want and feel and ask and risk and take up space.

I must.

Us Too Much Women have been facing extermination for centuries—we are so afraid of her, terrified of her big presence, of the way she commands respect and wields the truth of her feelings. We’ve been trying to stifle the Too Much Woman for eons—in our sisters, in our wives, in our daughters. And even now, even today, we shame the Too Much Woman for her bigness, for her wanting, for her passionate nature.

And still. . . she thrives.

In my own world and before my very eyes, I am witnessing the reclamation and rising up of the Too Much Woman. That Too Much Woman is also known to some as Wild Woman or the Divine Feminine. In any case, she is me, she is you, and she is loving that she’s finally, finally getting some airtime.

If you’ve ever been called “too much,” or “overly emotional,” or “bitchy,” or “stuck up,” you are likely a Too Much Woman.
And if you are. . . I implore you to embrace all that you are—all of your depth, all of your vastness; to not hold yourself in, and to never abandon yourself, your bigness, your radiance.

Forget everything you’ve heard—your too much-ness is a gift; oh yes, one that can heal, incite, liberate, and cut straight to the heart of things.

Do not be afraid of this gift, and let no one shy you away from it. Your too much-ness is magic, is medicine. It can change the world.

So please, Too Much Woman: Ask. Seek. Desire. Expand. Move. Feel. Be.

Make your waves, fan your flames, give us chills"... 

-Ev'yan Whitney

there is light inside me

 there is light inside me

i have the words tattooed on my body as a reminder 

because sometimes i need reminded 

of who i am, that i am good 

and that i can trust myself and the people i love

and that even when i'm by myself

i'm not really alone.

letter to my love - seeking clarity, context & contentment

in my sadness over your leaving i have to question why our parting always causes me such sorrow when i know we'll be together again.  but the truth is, i don't KNOW this.  so obviously some of my sadness is fear based.  a lot can change in a short time and that scares me.  i've had hard lessons in this.  this is just some of why our parting is so sorrowful for me.

looking over the situation and my feelings, here is what i think...

when we are together i feel genuinely happy.  not just because of the attention and company, but for a short time i feel purposeful and alive.  when we are together i am able to do what i do best, that being to love and care for you.  when together i matter, you matter and we matter as a couple.  when we part ways i am forced to look at what is missing in my life and how it feels unfulfilled much of the time without the presence of my companion.   i love hard and sometimes that can suck.

what i want is to be that woman who doesn't need much of anything from anyone or who doesn't need another person to fulfill her, but you can't run from the truth of who you are.  and does that woman actually even exist?  i'm not so sure.  

love is the greatest gift you can give or receive. it truly is what life is all about.  this i KNOW.  loving IS living and without it we are only existing as a cog in the wheel of life, going round and round.  

it's hard letting go every time we part.  i want it to be easier but the only way i see it being easy is if i didn't love you.  so maybe it's just something we both have to live with and perhaps i should stop being so hard on myself. 

i am learning or in the least i'm trying to adapt to something different with you, the man i love and whose love i am deeply grateful for.  i am trying to live for the moments, not so much for the future and not just in regard to our relationship.  please have patience with me.