When I was three, I realized
That I was not one of ‘the guys’
I wore a dress for outside play
While they wore pants; it was their way
I was a girl and they were boys
I sat and listened to their noise
So much delight there in the dirt
Yet when I played they all were curt
‘You can’t do this, you’re just a girl
Go to your place and leave our world.’
They did not care that I’d object
Nor that I felt their cruel reject
My place of beauty and delight
A sanctuary in my sight
It had four trees and lovely ground
From there they couldn’t hear a sound
I played and sang a song for them
Hoping one day that we’d be friends
Yet things continue to be the same
I am their ‘sister’, without a name
I apologize for this rather sad tale of childhood experience. However, it was in taking note of this situation, that I realized the answer to another. I have always felt rejected by my siblings. If they were allowed to ‘reject’ me, then might my parents also have been rejecting me? Three year olds do not have the capacity to ‘work through’ feelings and issues the same way that adults do. It has taken me some time to figure out my gut feelings on rejection. The hardest issue has been my rejection of self. In my zeal to embrace me and others, I have become a control freak.
Today I will stop forcing things to happen. Instead I will allow things to happen naturally. If I catch myself trying to force events or control people, I will stop and figure out a way to detach. I need peace and harmony as I let go. Just let it go.
Stripping away the rose colored glasses of denial concerning my reality. Getting in touch with truth. Reaching out to others in empathy concerning their reality and their walk to truth.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The painting: “The Diver and the cave”, by dcrelief
After many years of a medicated life and feeling numb to anything or anyone, I finally chose to come off of the medications and take my chances on finding some normalcy again. Yes I had some issues that had plagued for a long time that needed addressing. And I also found out that I had an illness called Fibromylagia which had induced my original depression. I wasn’t clinically depressed; however the damage done by the medications left me without a life. My mind fought hard to regain the cognitive abilities and my body, so racked by side effects, would never be the same.
Along came the day I decided to take up painting again and I wanted to do a study in black backgrounds. Reflective of my feelings at that time, black was invisible, which is how I felt. Since then black has come to be the very show piece for allowing my paintings, pictures, and photos to “pop” off the page.
This first painting called, “The Diver and the Sea Slug” was so easy and yet I spent three days fighting my insides, screaming at me, that I could not do a painting. I decided to just blank out my thoughts and let the brush and colors flow as they would. I soon learned that divers always travel in pairs! Thus along came painting number two: “The Diver and the cave”.
I did the painting for a friend and his wife, using a combination of photos they had. I listened in amazement as they told of the things they had seen underwater; the precious view they had developed for all life. From the tiniest sea creatures and larger mammals traveling great oceans, to the very divers in their group, each form of life has a place in the great cycle of existence. Though some may disappear and new ones come along, it behooves us to appreciate all life.
Hmm, each form has a place? I wasn’t sure of mine but this was a beginning thing to find me, and see what I could be… again… anew.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
The Commodore Six was speeding along
I stood by the road, with my road-singing song
‘One for a Chevy, two for a Ford
Three for the Hudson’ that snagged me onboard
I went through the grill except for my hand
My legs and my torso now wrapped the oil pan
My right hand was busy as I pulled some wires
I listened for music but only heard tires
The engine was strong and roared through its courses
Quite pleased with the power of six hundred horses
The trip uneventful, I bored of black top
And promised to leave at the very next stop
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Could I be a shining light, illuminate the darkest night?
Could I help a soul find rest by giving one my very best?
Could I tell of hopeful things, wait for peace, and what it brings?
I don’t know but I can try
Write my thoughts and let them fly
Help to clarify one’s view
For better life, a better you
Could I write the things that help, that don’t create a nasty whelp?
Could I let my feelings out, to let you learn without a doubt?
That life goes on and we go too, with hearts together staying true?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Painting by dcrelief: "The Abandoned Boat" posted to Zimbio May 01, 2008
Recently I’ve experienced what I call, “my late night search.”
Hours up, hours down, yet still looking for happiness answers.
I’ve tried people, places, and things to give me what I desire.
What do I desire?
I desire the feeling I had when I began to write over the internet.
That first feeling that I did not know would arrive: joy.
My “Higher Power” and I made a few plans, but mostly, I simply wrote.
I need that joyful feeling back in my life.
Many have spoken to me, advised me, supported me, and have shown love.
Why can’t that be enough?
It is enough, when I allow my “Higher Power” to interpret and guide me.
I get lost when I ignore what I’ve proven carefully, personally, to myself.
I would sit down at my keyboard and it would become much like a virtual piano.
I typed as if each post was a song that I only played for my Higher Power.
The melodies were strong, the words flowed freely; I felt complete.
My best reality… I felt complete. What's next?