~I am, We are~

 

Most mornings I wake up and have to remind myself.

Like when Court-Court passed away.

Too soon,

it was unjust.

it was not fair.

I open my eyes to the sun sliding between the shades,

before so warm and welcome,

its beams are too bright,

too much.

THIS is too much.

I am a new bride,

I love my husband with my whole heart.

This is my honeymoon phase...

should be.

could be.

Most mornings I have to remind myself,

He loves me. chose me. Pursued me. Promised me.

And, this is my honeymoon phase....

should be,

could be.

*This is not my angry epithet,

Consider it my WHAT THE *EFF IS that??

I am here. I have not moved.

Truth, grace, goodness, and love.

Thrive still.

and they water hope, here in my heart.

growing a garden.

that should be,

could be

beautiful,

bountiful,

blessed.

I am a new bride.

I love my husband with my whole heart.

I exist.

I am real.

I AM.

We ARE~

~Sweet Potato, Serenade~

She cooks you sweet potato, you don't like aubergine
She knows to boil the kettle when you hum bars from Grease
She senses you are lonely but still she can't be sure
And so she stands and waits, stands anticipating your thoughts

How can she become the psychic
That she longs to be to understand you
How can she become the psychic
That she longs to be to understand you

He brushes thoroughly
He know she likes fresh breath
He rushes to the station
He waits atop the steps

He's brought with him a Mars bar
She will not buy Nestle
And later he'll perform
A love lorn serenade, a trade

How can he become the psychic
That he longs to be to understand you
How can he become the psychic
That he longs to be to understand you

So give her information to help her fill the holes
Give an ounce of power so he does not feel controlled
Help her to acknowledge the pain that you are in
Give to him a glimpse of that beneath your skin~

~Let THEM Eat Cake~

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I've been hearing alot of things, from alot of people these days of late. Words of encouragement and pithy platitudes offered with good intentions, of course, among other not so lovely, lingering lyrics of a tune that tempts my soul to shrivel up and die. (Thanksssssss). Words wasted on a wandering gypsy soul seeking only goodness, love and LIFE.

Anyway, I was told today that marriage (and monogamy for that matter), for most men, is like the best slice of chocolate cake. At first sample, it is sweet and satisfying and the best thing you have ever tasted. But then, after having it every day, it becomes too sweet. Too boring with no variety of flavor. Your tastebuds tame, accustomed to the offering. Bleh. So you want different dessert...a new cake...hell, maybe a cookie, or in my case, he went for the HO-HOS (plural)....

But the way I see it, marriage (and hell yes, monogamy), is like a whole helluva heapin' helping of oats. Steady. Steel Cut. Stick-to-your-ribs. OATS. In the morning, they are there to get you started with whole-grain goodness.....greeting you....warming you....sustaining and steeling you for the start of the day, for the moment when you make your exit out into the world, solo. And at night, they are there, they can take whatever form they need to to meet you...muffins, wholegrain bread, a kind, nurturing dessert that doesn't drag you down.

And just when you think maybe you could get tired of them, oats can reinvent themselves. Add to them, bake, cook or stew them a different way, they can adapt...with you, for you...inside of you. Oats.

Steady. Steel Cut. Stick-to-your-ribs. Oats.

~Soundtrack of Self~

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Sometimes I wish life had its own soundtrack. Maybe not "life" as an entire entity in itself, but on a single, smaller, microscopic scale--where each individual has one very specific, constantly flowing music score to match their ever changing mood and mindset. THAT. WOULD. BE. AMAZING. (or in my case.....just a maze...(*zing*))~

Go with me on this one...my favorite movie in the world, Amelie, has this similar bend to it. The movie as a whole definitely gives you a window into her mind, with great music and sound effects as the reel rolls. But Amelie seems more to be hearing the soundtrack of the world, as it plays itself to her, ....I am specifically thinking more along the lines of each person's soundtrack of themselves--descriptive rather than prescriptive. Ever shifting and shuffling, like a foot-stompin', resounding remix, where at any given time the DJ of your dharma would stop that record----SCRREEECH....aaaaand *wickety wickety wickety*....BAM (Or in some of our cases, WHACK?)...new sound, different vibe, and the beat goes on. No segway necessary...no pregnant pause or interlude...there is no time! Small wonders and snippets of emotion and sensory samplings wait for no man! And slip away from our reach as fast as a fairy flies...only a glimmer memory with a glitter trail of topsy-turvy, tinkling cheer remains.

Yes, a selfie soundtrack. Indeed. I think I'll write off for a patent presently....but before I go, allow me to press *play*...for your listening pleasure:

Eyes open as the alarm wheezes a whiny and utterly annoying (BEEP BEEP BEEP!) A (BOP BAM BOOM) as my tiny fist obliterates the button...I see this as my pint-size protest (and slight temper tantrum) regarding the shortening of my sweet slumber.  Radio clicks on as U2 beckons me to a better mood, reminding me it really is a (Beautiful Day). A smile sneaks to my cheeks as I roll to the right...(RECORD SCRATCH!)...as I ricochet across the covers, the unwilling recipient of my husband's dread-full (and unaware) headbutt. (SHISH SHISH SHISH) as I rub my forehead and make my way to the mirror, perusing the glass panel for any signs of gore or goose egg that are guaranteed to be there after such a knock to the noggin'. WHEEEEEEEEY...I rub the smudge of bathroom brine as the one blurry blotch of sink splash stares back at me from the smooth surface. There. All clean.

I call out to my husband from the hallway asking if he wants coffee...(CRICKETS)...followed by the PITTER PATTER of my feet padding down the hallway. Round the corner to JACKHAMM-AAAAH--TADADADDADADADADADAD!....no, not a snore...a symphony of snorts and sniffles----one unapologetic, earth-shattering, shake me and quake-me-to-the-core cacophony of syncopated chaos. (POW!) A drool-by shooting! Autopsy report reads: Nerves D.O.A.

And that's just before I even get my teeth brushed. *Coffee's on, ya'll*....

~Marriage~

 

The music begins. Slow and delicate, the notes nudge one another from limb to limb--barely touching long enough to bow and turn to the next, edging along the lines...lilting lyrics to follow.

Lyrics. Words. Wisdom written in rhythm. Poetry painstakingly penned, flowing from the fount of forged passion, the experiential emotion only earned through firsthand, earth-shattering sojourns. 

Shards of spectral light spin out, sequentially the spectrum explodes in empathy....a flag of hard-fought freedom unfurling.

Scales. Melodies meandering. Across keys---fingers wildly sliding from fret to fret-not.....to fear not.

Dance. From cautious curls of the toes, to carefree cuttings of carpets, the style will submit to the substance. What is this foundation made of? Of what material is it made? This song--these steps, our musical matrimony.

Truth. Joy. Honesty and Respect. Let us build brick by brick, together...a symphony~

And Cue the music.

~The Juxtaposition of Joy~

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 I went on my favorite hike this morning. It's a killer, but I love that about it. The climb to the top, full out, and at a steady, fast clip takes me a good hour, and the trail run down is fast and exhilarating. Simply put: this hike makes me happy~

I got married three weeks ago, almost to the day. He is the love of my life, and the person who I believe deep down that I was created for. He is gone right now. Having left for a two week trip one day after we arrived home from our wedding, my husband went to a far away place, to surf and video and explore, without me....and it hurt deeply.  "Hurt" was soon renamed for what I later uncovered it to really be....fear. Fear that already, as a wife, I was not enough...somehow inadequate to keep my husband happy and fulfilled at home...tears followed, and as internet connection where he's at is very limited, I was left with silence. Deafening silence, and crumbs of communication. Tiny morsel-moments when maybe that day I get a small sliver or snapshot that serves to shrink the space between for even a nanosecond. For these tidbits of time I am truly grateful, yet there still gnaws at me an edge of hunger...for the certainty and security of his strong, affirming, tangible touch.

My hike begins. I waste no time in warming up...I never do. I want to dive in, to charge, to go, go, go....higher. I push myself, and for a solid 45 minutes I climb. I never take breaks...I thrive on the momentum. I use it to spur me forward...launching ahead....up, up, up...focusing on what I know to be waiting for me at the summit...a view unmatched by any other, and a well-earned moment of rest and reprieve---a-high-above-the-clouds communion with my Creator.

At the 45-minute mark, the trail tops off momentarily and plateaus, flattening out along a lovely ridge before dipping down into a forested valley. I remember the first time I went on the hike I thought I had taken a wrong turn, messed up when looking at my map, somehow gotten the directions backwards and was getting further away from what I was seeking......the summit.

This couldn't be right...the hike showed a straight climb upwards...I knew to make it to the top I had so much ground to cover...this couldn't be the best way. Yet I kept going that first time...and that has made all the difference. If I had turned back I never would have known the value of the view that awaited. I had had no other solid signs showing me anywhere else I should be going...so I decided I had to just move forward and trust the trail that so many had traveled before me, that so many had assured me was a good and beautiful trail. A trail well worth every bit of effort it took to tread.

I made it to the summit that day, despite my distrust of the signs, and the momentary fear of the forest valley. And the view, the view that greeted me was healing... I saw the whole island...every part stretched out before me...I could even see way down to the place where I started....it seemed so small to me from such great heights.

As I hiked today, I prayed alot....I always do. I talked to God and just walked with my thoughts....I processed. I praised. I petitioned. (I always do). The climb up is steady, slower, and milder. It allows me to get lost in the sweet silence of the scenery, to create a cyclical rhythm to unwind within--to loosen what during the interim has been tightened or twisted. There is safety in this sure, steady climb. I take a bit more time to enjoy looking around...a moment to marvel at every minute detail of the delicate dwelling place I call home. It is this critical climb that sustains and satisfies that hunger that spurred me towards this trail. I feel steady. I feel sure. I feel calm. I know peace.

Arriving at the top, I almost always am alone. No one ever comes much to this height, and here...here is my earthly Heaven. I say my thanks here. I sing here. I stay here, as long as I need...and I breathe.

As I make my way back down the trail, I run. No, I *catapult* down the mountain. Crashing through the forest, tripping over branches, slipping and sliding on tiny pebbles and making my best attempt at navigating the mud-wracked and moss covered clearings....I fly. Giggling, I let my arms and legs go wherever they may, imagining the flailing, fairy spectacle I am sure to be making should anyone see. But I don't mind....It is exciting. It is exhilarating. I feel free. I know joy.

I thought today, as I was removing my muddy sneakers, how much I feel I learn from the mountains, every time we meet....

I see now, only because I quieted my heart enough to hear...My husband did not abandon me, nor did I drive him away by not being "enough." I love him "enough" to try to see, to seek to understand....that on our journey, he needs it all...WE need it all...and we can have it all---the steady, certainty that comes with routine...the bookending days that bring such comfort and tangible connection. The puzzle parts of the daily that slide together to form that perfect pattern for peace....and the exhilarating open-ended adventure, the freedom to find the passions that prick our hearts and stir us within---the whimsical wonderful bits that beg and bellow for fear of being buried or hidden away...here, here...that juxtaposition of joy.

My husband comes home tomorrow, and I have longed for that moment these whole two weeks. Simply put: these halves can be happy.......can be One. And there is joy, and there is peace~

~It's Official~

“One day, in your search for happiness, you discover a partner by your side, and you realize that your happiness has come to help you search"~

Byron James and Andy Beth Yeager:  We go~

~Anablepo~

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When I was a little girl I had green eyes.

The color of jade-d complacency....

Envious was eye.

Jealous because I did not see

Eye, did not see you.

So fixated was eye on the dream, the desire, the demand

to be daddy's little girl.

the center of your world.

To sit upon your knee.

Have you gaze adoringly upon me.

Daddy, am I pretty? I inaudibly ask.

Begging and pushing as I twirl and try.

Attempting to gain your outward affections.

Hug me! Sit me on your knee! Tell me I make you happy!

Let me know I am pretty....that you love me.

Like Natalie's daddy. Or Sarah's Poppy...

So fixated was I on the daddy I thought you should be.

I spent my days angry,

Blind to the beauty...the blessing.

My visions obscured by an emerald-hued haze.

I have grown now...

The mirror reveals a warrior, blue-eyed and brave,

The golden ringlets and dimpled cheeks,

now straightened and thinned....broken along this road

adapting to the environment.

Earning a beauty all their own,

No longer the pretty little princess looking for the perfect daddy,

Eye now see,

All along, you were right in front of me.

Daddy,

Your road was not easy.

Childhood was not kind.

Affection, not often offered,

never came easily.

Yet in so many other ways,

you showed me.

Love.

Protection.

Provision.

Ours has been a long and winding road.

I have misunderstood.

Put words in your mouth that you never uttered.

Miscommunication.

Missed communication.

Now, wisdom and age helps me to change the outcome:

Daddy, do you know I love you? I audibly ask.

Blessing and praying as I reach out and no longer deny,

The importance to me of your outward affections.

May I hug you? Will you sit with me awhile? Are YOU happy?

You are beautiful to me....and I see you love me...deeply...imperfectly.

Like MY daddy~