Wandering around

Often my family insists I forget the past and get on with the future. My closest friends know me differently; they realize I lost a lot of past and explore to it to ‘see’ today. My focus stays on today better, when I’m able to have memories that tell me what to avoid. Or of memories that tell me what was good.

I’m not sure where this post will go. I’m wandering around, remembering good things, and planning the moments I live with trust. Trust in myself or trust in others until I can fully accept that I’m okay to continue in certain areas. Its self-exploration and maybe you’ll get something out of this. It’s not my plan that I write, only about myself, but extend my thoughts to you for a healing of sorts. Only you know what you need; leave the rest.

Most of you know about the physical, mental, and emotional trauma associated with Fibromyalgia; I’ve written about it before. But who was this woman before that long word came into being? Can I set it aside, simply look at me and cheer the moment, as I have my mind currently in tact? I am thinking clearly. So I’m taking advantage and moving a bit closer to goals.

Strangely, this time, something wonderful has happened. While wandering around the past, I remembered that I used to get ‘rescued’ all the time by my Mom. Of course she’s been dead for 12 years… no more rescues forthcoming. Yet, I sat down and thought of every positive word my Mom would have said. Such joy when at least one parent takes an interest in your life. I found myself cheered by her words. She who taught me that being me was the most important issue ever. So it was that an outpouring of self understanding has arrived. I sincerely hope that this will enable me to understand more of you.

What makes us, what breaks us, or what takes us to great heights? Can we share it, will we share it; are we ready to connect in a way that establishes acceptance? As I wander around the blog-sphere and read what each of you is doing, I am most grateful to be a part of life. It is as if my Mom is not gone but speaks through the wisdom, experience and joy that others share. Yes, even your pain speaks to me and I shed a quiet tear for you. It’s just something I’ve always done. How comforting that the part of me I want to keep is coming back.

Is there a part of you that needs remembering and renewing? See the Doctor.

Erika's favorite: Pulaski, New York

I am such a lover of the ocean, never finding a river I could feel the same way about. Erika, one of my many nieces, has challenged that with her request of a painting from her photo. Pulaski, New York, where she travels to in ‘fishing season’, is one of her favorite spots of all time.

“Oh, Aunt Dixie, it is a great relaxing place. I caught the largest fish ever last week. I’m sending a photo; please make me a small painting so I can carry it wherever I go. Love E.”

The 6inch by 8 inch painting is on the way and I hope it captures something of the beauty she loves so!

Okay, I can do this.

"Today, I will appreciate my progress. I will let myself feel good about what has been accomplished." ~Gratitude Cards

Sunday check in 4 p.m.
Wednesday check out 11 a.m.

Yes, I can do this!

On vacation, sort of...

There’s no computer virus
There’s no bee in my bonnet
And there’s no-one that can fire us
But I could write a little sonnet

My mind is on vacation
It left just days ago
While I busy typing
The words came out thus so: sdsndj dkjieo kjes

At first I thought to panic
Instead I laughed and cheered
I’ll save my mind for next week
Faithful it would reappear


Note: actually I'm physically ill, but okay.
Will return soon; not to worry.

Happiness, measured in smiles

“Every sixty seconds you spend angry, upset or mad, is a full minute of
happiness you'll never get back”.

A friend emailed the above quote, and as I read it, I began to add up the days’ minutes I had already lost. Wow; the change needs to continue.

I need to continue reaching inside of myself to bring the happiness that exists to the top. I want to stop counting on others to give me what I truly can give myself. Sure, many have experiences that may have worked for them, and that’s welcomed. This is something I want to do for me. I have lots of things to be happy about. My blog has not always been sad sounding, and just for today, I want to go back to the times that gave me joy; bring them forward in time and prioritize a new existence.

I’d like to try on smiles for miles. That’s ‘the road less-traveled’ that I want.

Your Dreams - the source of infinite power?

If you love what you do, you can never fail! Why? because you will never run out of juice. You will always be motivated. During the inevitable times when you are discouraged, you will find a way to simply acknowledge the state you find yourself in, take a break, and the juice will be back in no time. If you live your talents you will be empowered by the universal source—a source that is beyond your wildest imagination, and it is of infinite supply.

No argument can make you stop doing what you love to do. Many people have wonderful reasons for what they do and for what they want to accomplish. These reasons are as varied and personal as anything in the universe. If you take away these reasons and ideas, people fall into a black hole because there is then no longer any substance behind their reality—their dreams have been cut off at the source.

If there is only one important thing in your life, then surely it must be this: to find and live your dreams. Don't waste any more time doing things you don't like. Yes, you are taking a risk, but you will never want to go back once you have made this choice.

Is this possible? What do you think?

A Letter to "Nowhere"

Prologue:

What do you do when you can't figure out people and their motives? What do you do when their conversations are manipulative, or at best, strange? If you're like me; you write a letter to “Nowhere.”

“Nowhere”: a place where thoughts can go and dissolve into particles of energy that mesh with the rest of the universe... and hopefully will not bounce back and bite me in the saddle.

• I do not look lightly at the self-serving attitude that stands at the door waiting to take me in. Humility bids me to continue my journey without judgment, lest I enter the door and not come out. And sometimes I fail and have to write a second letter to “Nowhere.”


Dear “Nowhere”, and to the person who would rob me of my joy:

I wanted to do a special thing. A special project allowing me pleasure to use my abundance of time that becoming disabled had shared with me.

I would write. I worked hard toward my goal and utilized patience to watch it grow. Feeling an immense joy and a good tiredness, I set about adding other things to keep the project going. Maybe I could photograph some of my paintings and use them to accompany my writings?

• I thought I was impervious to complications, ugly remarks, and judgments from people.

Then I got a phone call from a relative; her advice was sharp. Keep in mind that she “called” me; I did not call her! She concluded that my focus of “having abundant time” was like a person “exhibiting an abundance of self-worth.” She pounded one more nail before I excused myself from the phone: “You and your project are insignificant; time is relevant and you are wasting it on this foolish project.”

Having left a time period where time was dead for me, I could not fathom why the robber defined my project as insignificant and foolish? Maybe she’d never heard of the pair of shoes I was forced to wear? Those shoes were uncomfortable; I made the change to walk barefooted.

• I didn’t need to re-do it all over again; but I wanted to be able to close my eyes and remember it. Remember the passion of sitting down and writing a song, or creating charcoal and black conte sketches on the finest papers I could afford! If no one wanted me to exist on this earth, this beautiful earth, then why put me here?!

My joy came from the fact that I was busy, and having daily goals to meet and people wanted what I was doing; a very big surprise! Living became inventing and the foundation I had as a child was still there, moving to the surface to re-teach me. Get past the heat, get past the desires, get past the enablers, and hold hands with the disabled who will reach out to those who need healing too. Just because we look whole, doesn't mean we are whole.

Epilogue:

There are many projects that we do and never expect anyone else to give them a thought. We do them for the sheer joy of doing and sharing. We exist and hopefully our special activities give lessons to anyone who is ready to hear.

• I do not look lightly at the self-serving attitude that would exclaim: "Look at what I'm doing, but rather: look at the higher power who has given me wings to fly.” Humility bids me continue my journey, without judgment, exclaiming… time is HIS.

Lousy weekend, new day...

I had a lousy weekend, and now it’s not going to do any good to complain about it. It’s the same old stuff… and I’m really, really, tired of feeling the way I feel. So wonder of all wonders… I am going to change my attitude. I mean I am really going to shake a few apples from the tree. Fall where they may, this girl has had enough!

The widget “following” thing is going. I click on it and get every blog in the world, but the one I’d like to read. Besides I like my blog list just fine. I don’t get some 18-22 blogs hanging onto one of my “followers,” such a demeaning name any way. No offense, but I like to be the one picking what I want to read.

My personal life will be changing as well. A certain revelation has finally penetrated my skull and I see light at the end of the tunnel… and it’s not a train light!! There’s nothing like a bit of the surreal to wake up reality. And, damn it. I’m wide awake. Maybe I’ll let you know how it goes or else I’ll hide my embarrassment of being a “fool” and get on to new stuff. More will be revealed.

When its time...

Treat your mind to some peace. Detach. Get calm.
If you’re facing a decision, big or small, get peaceful first, and then decide.
If you absolutely can’t make a decision on a particular day, then it’s obviously not time to make that decision.
When it is time, you’ll be able to do it.
And do it well.

Lessons and Gifts

There is a gift for us in each relationship that comes our way. Sometimes the gift is a behavior we’re learning to acquire: detachment, self-esteem, becoming confident enough to set a boundary, or owning our power in another way.

Some relationships trigger healing in us – healing from issues of our past or an issue we’re facing today.

Sometimes we find ourselves learning the most important lessons from the people we least expect to help us. Relationships may teach us about loving ourselves or someone else. Or maybe we’ll learn to let others love us.

We may not know if we’re in the midst of the process. But we can trust the lesson and gift is there. We don’t have to control the process. We’ll understand when it’s time. We can trust that the gift is precisely what we need.

Today, I’m trying to be grateful for all relationships. I’m trying to open myself to the lesson and gift from each person in my life. I will try to trust that I, too, am a gift in other people’s lives.

The one that got away

Painting by dcrelief


Prologue

Not all trips are pleasant ones. Some merely exist to teach us a lesson. A lesson about ourselves: what we've been, what we are, or what we might become. Let us not look lightly at the negative behavior we're ever exposed to, lest we become the same in thought and deed.

The One That Got Away

I caught a fish, a very large fish, and fought my better judgment to let it go. It was my trophy, I had to display it, and so I photographed it to show all of my friends that I was the “best of the best of fishermen.” My ego blindingly held myself, as well as the fish, captive. My overzealous need for "just one more person" to recognize my superiority caused great delay in the preservation of the fish; alas! It was inedible. The bodily damage was such that it could not even be mounted to be observed for all time. The wall in my living room would remain bare.

What was found was painfully ruined, as I contemplated the one that got away. How was it that the joy of the catch did not stay with me? Within my mind I recalled the moment of bringing that mighty one to the surface and how proud I had been. I was the best and here was my proof. How was it that I did not see, that as the fish began to disintegrate, so had my trip? My joy for that fish caused me to ignore any joy for anything or anyone else. When the one that got away, went away, there was no experience left to fill the void. I had alienated all others, deeming them unworthy of my attention.

I sat alone and pondered what I might have done differently. Better yet, I sought a new direction for the next trip. I would leave behind all cumbersome things and ones that would divide the mighty fisherman's attention. I would have my complete joy in the catch, and a large cooler to preserve my new slave. Nothing and no one would hinder my expectations.

Epilogue

Not all trips are pleasant ones. Out of the darkness a line is dropped into the water of our soul. Some come with hooks that are attached to things we'd be wise to avoid. What we've been, what we are, or what we may become, depends largely on what we yield ourselves to accepting. Let us not think lightly on the times when we're allowed to be the one that got away.

MAD?

The little icon will not get up and shake! I don't know how to fix him! lol.

This is not a Facebook commercial

I'm feeling smart!

I forgot about NASCAR...

I planned a sweet little sabbatical in the middle of race week.
Forgot the noise, the fumes, loud cars
100,000 screaming fans!
Off hours they run time trials, and cutesy little races.
Corvette shows………
Lots of dusty rides
Cleaned up hotrods
Motorcycles in every color
Beer on ice when not flowing
Food, food, food
Camper trailers, RV’s, tents and old camper-top trucks
But most definitely…. Not me!

Early

Early, it is morning.
I step lightly without shoes

I step lightly, joy renews
Tenderness gleaned from the light
Precious time is in my sight
Meets me when I feel the dew
When I step without my shoes

I step lightly without shoes
Ii is morning, early

How might it have been ...?

How might it have been different for you? If early in your life, the first time you as a tiny child felt your anger coming together inside yourself, someone, a parent or grandparent, or older sister or brother, had said, “Bravo! Yes, that’s it! You’re feeling it!”

If, during the first time you had experienced that sharp awareness of ego, of “me, I’m me, not you”… you had been received and hugged and affirmed, instead of shamed and isolated.

If someone had been able to see that you were taking the first baby step toward feeling your own feelings, of knowing that you saw life differently from those around you.

What if you had been helped to experience your own uniqueness and to feel the excitement of sensing, for the very first time, your own awareness of life? What if someone had helped you to own all of this… to own your own life?


How might it have been different for you?



(Dedication:JDS)

Jo-Jo's Joke

What do you mean, "GO GREEN"?

I like the PINK one!

Inner Child: living in the moment

She often walks right by my side
In rain we run for cover
It’s from the world that we would hide
And not seen by another

Times of past and times to be
Are different now for us
We’ve found the clue to set us free
Departing illusions’ fuss

A gentle breeze, the birds appear
My inner child sings loudly
We keep our smile in present here
And do so rather proudly

The moment lived dissolves past thoughts
And keeps the future away
Enjoying every moment sought
Gives hope to last the day

Voyage

The real voyage of discovery consists
not in seeking new landscapes,
but in having new eyes.

~Marcel Proust

The Plan

I began this quest of “orderliness” because I needed some way to help me work consistently, not perfectly, but consistently, so I would not wear myself out. I have a dream and for once I would use my daydreaming in detail for planning.

So I envisioned my dream and saw some goals I needed to complete it. Now it was time to write down those goals. Then it occurred to me, how many times do I get “right here” and stop. What was that about? What caused me to stop? Wisdom from one of the books on my desk, spoke loudly:

“To put feet to you goals and start moving ahead, you must realize that reaching your goals requires behavior change. Have you thought about the behaviors that get in the way of your dreams or about the habits you must initiate to get where you want to go? It’s time to evaluate them, decide how to deal with them and move forward.”

Out popped “The Plan” as I call it: STOP, START, CONTINUE. You take a sheet of paper and make three columns; labeling them Stop, Start, Continue.

In the first column, write three habits you want to stop because they are hindering your journey toward your dream. (Stop watching late night TV if it’s zapping my energy level I need for the next day. Stop being president of the moose lodge because I already work for two organizations, and have no time for the kids.)

Under heading number two, list habits you intend to start. (Do a load of laundry every night. Rise a half hour earlier to write. Increase savings deposits by 3%.) The point here is to at “upgrade” if you cannot totally change things at once.

Column three are the behaviors you want to continue. They are useful and successful. For this to work you need at least three items or more, added to each column. Writing your planned behaviors and reviewing the written goals daily will dramatically increase your chances of sticking to them.

This is what I’m doing.

Happy Mom or Subtitute Day!

Mom, Dad, Step-parent, Aunt, Uncle, Grandmother, Grandfather, Adoptive

(Sung to the tune of: “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands…)

If you love your little peeper(s), clap your hands.
If you love your little peeper(s), clap your hands.
If you love your little peeper(s), even more when they are sleepers,
If you love your little peeper(s), clap your hands.

*More and more we see single-parents performing both Mom and Dad duties. Theirs is an awesome task as role models for their children. This my personal tribute to friends I have, and know they would never begrudge their child anything. Indeed, many tell me that the child keeps them going. Bless them all.

Gooeyduck hunting: sea food commercial

Gooeyduck digging: dig it!


Gooeyduck or Elephant Trunk Clam?




Pick a word, any word:
Goouiducks
Geoducks
Gooeyducks
Gweducks

No matter how you spell the name, all are pronounced with a beginning prefix of gooey. They are clams! Very large clams. They range in shell size from 7"-9" inches; that's a lot of gooey for the hooey. The siphon or long trunk-like object can be 1-3 feet long. They taste like scallops, often much better. They can be eaten raw or cooked.

They are very expensive, which means a lot of molooey to buy the gooey; oh phooey!Gweduck is a native word meaning to "dig deep". So dig deep in your pockets to pay for this delightful gweduck!

They are found in Japan, British Columbia, Canada, and Northwestern U.S..

In Japan they are called, "Elephant Trunk Clams."

(I seem to have a thing for ducks.)

Affirming the good things in Life*

Gratitude can help us learn to acknowledge what we have now,

face the fearful “what ifs” we create,

practice the art of acceptance,

and expect good things from life.

Part of my plan for moving along, choosing the goals and dreams I want, is to use “affirmation cards” that focus on gratitude.

“Today, I will be grateful for the choices available to me, and I will make choices that are good for me.”

Photo: I am grateful for any participation you’d add to help me spread my wings!


*See blog titled: “I have the making of a plan. I do.”
Coming attraction: “The Plan”

I have the makings of a plan. I do.

You’d think that after all of these years I’d know exactly how to change my life. You’d think that I could set my goal or place my dream before me, and beat a path straight to it. Then again, if you’ve been reading along for the last few months you’re wondering: did she get there or are we still traveling?

My old friend Fibromyalgia often stops to play but doesn’t leave as soon as I think it should. It interrupts, and before I know it, I am back to square one in the planning stage of a goal or a dream. My cognitive ability leaves me and I feel sad. I’m learning how to use these interruptions as times to help someone else instead.

Lately the “fog” has begun to lift and I feel “Dixie” coming to the surface. Now is the time to plan step by step the way for me to get going on that special goal. Reach the goal and live the dream! Hooray!

This time I plan to document my progress. My Fibro coach is most interested in learning what stops my mental flow towards accomplishment. You are most welcome to join me in my trek. Don’t worry, I’ll have ‘commercials or cartoons’ so you won’t be bored… lol. Okay, I’ll get back with more in a day or so.

ALL STOP

Mother's Day Parade

A smile of encouragement...

A smile of encouragement
at the right moment may act like
sunlight on a closed up flower;
it may be the turning point for a struggling life.

In my ongoing process to learn about life through me, I find that smiles really do help. Lately I wonder if I should carry a small mirror. When I take myself too seriously I can "have a look, have a smile," and keep going. [;)

Just for fun...

Marvin's mother invited her boss home for dinner. It was Marvin's job to set the table.
But when it came time to eat, his mother said, "Marvin, why didn't you give Mr. Brown a knife and fork?"
"Because," said Marvin, "you always said he eats like a horse."



It's raining cats and dogs today.
I know. I just stepped into a poodle.

Tales of Text from the High Chair

Alistair Cookie: Narrator Extraordinaire
Campaign poster-child for “Double-Choco-Chip” cookies

Hello again to the readers who love my great narrations. To those who don’t, give it time: I’m cute and funny. Just look at this face; makes you want to pinch those little cheeks, right? Well, don’t you do it, just love me from afar.

Normally I enjoy a trip to the great outdoors. But oh, what to do on those rainy days? You know those inside days? Shh, ready the cookies, and see what I have found to make us all happy. (Crunch, munch, slurp). From my glorious high chair I survey the great land before me. My Papa looks up and smiles so sweetly at me. He has determined that I need a new sand box. This time it would have a lid to prevent my cat Fluffy from entering it. Fluffy couldn’t help herself. She and I would often “text” each other about such things. There were no secrets between me and old Fluffy. This is where our story begins; a tale of text from the high chair. (Ahem, crunch, crunch.)

From the table there came a low whirring sound… and then music! Ah, the fun phone had been left on! Steel drums started banging and tanging, and lots of little people “sanging.” Then I read Fluffy’s text message: “I know you.”

I giggled loudly and texted back: “I.O.U. 2.” It was great fun and I lost track of time texting my cat, enjoying the great banter. That Fluffy has thousands of jokes! I ordered the vendor six pack of 6,000 jokes. Though I’m not sure what a “vendor” is, nevertheless, there are 6,000 citty cat jokes coming soon to a location near me!! (Ha, ha, ha, aha! Crunch)

My Papa returned to the kitchen, and with great excitement, he talked to my Mum. I don’t recall seeing him this happy, ever. Yet, he had thousands of orders he’d received for the new sand box invention. Oh, perfect day!! Even without the shining sun, the room was brightly lit. My Papa went back to his phone, punching in letters, while mine, simultaneously, requested Fluffy’s citty cat vet number.

I asked my Mum, “Is the ‘cc number’ the same number the vet gives Fluffy for a citty cat check up?”

Papa looked up and spoke, “Alistair, please hand me your phone.” At that moment Fluffy appeared and I knew the text time was over. I handed the phone to Papa, and watched as he left for the great outdoors. He stood by the old oak tree for the longest time. He’d look at one phone and then the other. I watched as he began shaking his head: “no, no, no, and no.” Finally Papa’s laughter was really ringing through the trees. I knew he must be reading Fluffy’s jokes.

Something for David

"A Day In The Life: Dave's Progress" has an interesting and humourous blog posted. His "Chapter 27: Confessions of a Bibliophile," will delight readers and those who especially like to collect books; Bibliophiles collect books. Or is the fact that they collect books, what makes them Bibliophiles? Oh well, not to worry, I'll return and read it for a fourth time! It's that much fun!

Meanwhile you know me and my photo madness? I typed in "bibliophile" to search and got this wonderful photo. This one is for you, David.

http://mb1023.blogspot.com/

I can tell the farce from the trees...

Farce: 1- A play marked by broadly satirical comedy and improbable plot. 2- The broad humor characteristic of farce or pretense. 3- A ridiculous action, display or pretense; farcical.

I can tell the farce (forests) from the trees. What I can’t tell is: why do people who climb the trees, turn around, and then cut them down?

Yes! Some people expend great amounts of energy to surround their trees with others. Lives upon lives are added and the play spends tighter; the plot thickens. This then is the farce; the farce of no return for many. People ensnared in the farce.

Loss becomes so much fun for the farce lovers; they wait patiently to down that tree. Bring the large axe and a long wagon to haul the timber to the river.

Prime each timber, telling them, they shall be great soon. They shall be great fun. Tease them with moments they’ve wondered about. Dare they ask, risking a barrage of unkind words? No they are silent; fearing that the farce will not be with them anymore. The great farce addiction is about to hurt them; they know. They steady themselves and wait for the axe first blow.

A chop, chop, chop, is heard above the silent weeping, as so many send great thoughts skyward. Forgive the climber. Forgive the primer. Fall, do not bow, at this farcical moment. In a tree, close by, sits a climber who denies any part of the hate that is happening. (Such charming chops, he thinks.)

“There’s never been a farce or a ruse or a joke better than this; silly others believing such dribble. All the timber had to do was stand there and be silent. I would have let them live. I could have”. He glanced to the right, watching as another farce fell, and smiled.

Families.

a "looney" tune?

Brought to you by the 21st century "Union" label.


I'm a prepper;
she's a prepper;
wouldn't you like to be a prepper too?

Timing

Pregnant Male Seahorse: 'any time now'


Timing can be so frustrating. I can wait and wait for something to happen, and it seems to be forever until it comes to pass. Or, suddenly, an event or circumstance is thrust upon me, catching me by surprise. Believing that things happen too slowly or too quickly is an illusion. Timing is perfect.

“If we could untangle the mysteries of life and unravel the energies which run through the world; if we could evaluate correctly the significance of events passing; if we could measure the struggles, dilemmas, and aspirations of mankind, we could find that nothing is born out of time. Everything comes at its appointed moment.” ~Joseph R. Sizoo

Sorting

I’m sorting through the madness I call mind
On my way to rediscover life refined
I won’t stop at all the sites
Just the happy, hopeful bytes
I am grateful for the people who are kind

I am sorting through the madness of my mail
To eliminate those things that truly fail
No more ads and sticky spam
Just the stuff that says, ‘I am’
A lucky girl with many chances to prevail

I am sorting through the box of my feelings
Looking forward to the rush of blissful healings
As each feeling finds some grace
There’s a smile upon my face
As I realize that life solves all misdealings

Little Lives

I’ve long held a passion for the creatures called seahorses. Until I touched one and looked “him” directly in the eye, I knew nothing. In that very instant I knew the meaning of the universe: to give and be given to.

Several years ago I was walking along a shore at the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It was a blustery March day and I walked facing the sun to feel warmth upon my face. In the water lay a smallish dark green lump I thought to be seaweed. I removed a glove and scooped up what was a six inch seahorse! He was so still, I thought at first it was dead.

It lay there, and then a tiny contraction in the tail caught my attention quickly. I soon realized the water in my hand was almost gone and the seahorse was looking for more water; its home after all. I spoke aloud, “Are you alive?” As if to answer, “Yes,” it raised its head, which looked just like that of a great steed, and looked directly into my eyes. I could see the soul of the tiny creature as the last couple of drops of water approached its nostrils. I had to act quickly.

Into the ocean I waded some ten feet, water up around my thighs. Gently I placed the tiny seahorse into the area before the tide approached. I hoped this would give it a chance to survive, without being dragged back in by the undertow; the same undertow I was beginning to feel at my ankles. The tail kicked and off it went. I turned to wade out, so elated by the look on that tiny face. Such trust and love that emanated; I cannot explain it. In the moment I was so glad it would not be part of my beach treasure, but would continue living. It wanted to live.

Another thirty or so feet down the shore, and I came upon many seahorses that had already died, and were stiff upon the sand. A lady was collecting them as decorations for her shop artistry. My heart jumped to my throat, but she explained that it was “their season” to come and die upon the beach. She handed me one about 2.5 inches long, nowhere near the size of the one I’d just returned to the ocean, yet the same form and color as the other. That “light” was gone from the eyes; this one having come in and embraced the season.

Today I look at the eyes of little lives; they tell me a lot about myself.
I want to live.

The Roundabout

Thank you: Elizabeth Evans for the photo use.

A photo that brought back instantaneous memories of sheer joy and treasured squeals! Many times my friends and I would make the trip down to the park to ride the roundabout. “Please hold on to the bar.”

Usually an adult would get us started. We’d whirl ‘round and ’round, and it was no surprise if one of us got sick. Often it was that one of the Moms would grab some cool water from the fountain to place on a forehead to stop nausea. “Someone stop my stomach from moving too.”

Today I ride by abandoned playgrounds where the equipment was painted with lead paint. No one wants to spend the money to tear them down, but no one wants to offer anything new either. I shudder to think how much lead did I absorb from the favorite, and often visited roundabout? Yet the memories, the laughter, and the friends make it seem so far a way, and less worrisome.

Today I called the city to see what a new roundabout might cost. Thinking it might be nice to give something back that was so simple, so endearing, and so much fun. Would you believe the bureaucratic tape costs more than the roundabout? Then there are the maintenance clause costs, the taxes, the inspections, and so on. Whose getting a ride?

Happy Nuts-ster?

Just think about it.

Are we done yet?
Have those silly rabbits left?
Can we please have a squirrel day?
Like a ‘Happy Nuts-ster” day?

No, this doesn’t rhyme. It’s not meant to rhyme.
I’m serious though! We could hide nuts.
Lots of children eat nuts.
If they can’t find them, well, we squirrels would help do our part.
We would take care of the environment.
No nuts shall be left behind.

Besides it’s not like leaving a boiled egg for a year.
You might grow a nut tree or a nut bush.
Just think about it.
Meanwhile, Happy Nuts-ster!

In regal beauty... the red Gerber bathes

An awe-inspiring flower did touch my heart one day
And though its beauty yielded radiance, I had no words to say.
I watched the petals form and fan in no short span of time.
While gradually I felt its power that swayed this regal rhyme.

A sprinkling of the rain fell softly and hung.
Round beads as golden glass on the petals they clung.
My eyes filled with wonder and small human tears.
This beauty before me was tender and dear.

A bath from on high caused the glistening and shine.
It prompted my memory to also be thine.
Put all of my trust in the lord of the lathe.
And seek my own duty… as the red Gerber… bathes.

Hop to it

I’ve worn out my legs
You still want more eggs
In pink or in blue
Delivered for you?

Hard candy and pop
Cute baskets each stop
With ribbons and card
And stuff made of lard?

Sweet chocolate bunny
Why is that so funny?
Marshmallow dream stuffs
I prefer cream puffs

My feet on vacation
There’s no more occasion
The end of the season
With hop to it reason

Taking Action

Some days I feel no more mature than this photo of a family member. I feel small, unprotected and indecisive. Recent events and helpful friends have helped me see that I need to take action. I need to get things moving in the right direction to have a better life. Yes, and even get down in the dirt when need be. Walk toward the dreams I can create in reality, one at a time.

I’ve written previously, that as a child I was very much alone; maybe too much so, as there was so little or no interaction with possible friends. I still fear having friends. It is a big responsibility to do the right thing for myself and others. It takes me time to realize my mistakes with friends and then I work very hard to correct my previous action or inaction. Such is that case for me lately.

My head is so cluttered that I often misconstrue what’s really being explained. I’ve taken to writing down notes to remind me of what is the best plan for my life. The hard part is: sometimes I have to retreat in order to move ahead. Sometimes I need “me time” to stop and look at where I’m at. The present is where I need to be… not jumping back and forth between past and future.

Then sometimes I have to let go of a friends to make sure I have their best interest at heart. I need to put judgments aside and let people live the way they chose. I need to realize that they are human like me, trying to survive and lead a happy life. That means making a conscious decision, on my part, and taking action; the adult thing to do. ~Dixie

A Wednesday wink

A guy goes to the supermarket and notices an attractive woman waving at him.
She says hello. He's rather taken aback because he can't place where he knows her from.
So he says, 'Do you know me?'
To which she replies, 'I think you're the father of one of my kids.'
Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and says,
'Are you the stripper from the bachelor party that I made love to on the pool table with all my buddies watching last year???

She looked into his eyes and says calmly, 'No, I'm your son's Sunday school teacher.'

Her Thorn

It pricked her hand and then she bled
This sullen rose she’d always fed
No blossoms here in two long years
With only thorns to prompt her tears

She’d cut it down if she were mad
To stop the times it made her sad
Yet purposely it served her well
And helped her find a voice to yell

Then tears did fall and cleanse her thought
Relieving her of what life wrought
Into a tiny handkerchief
She breathed the air and felt relief

Her Rose

She walked her dream and looked around
With smallest flowers on the ground
The yellow bees were buzzing by
She spied a rose, and heard it sigh

The tiny drops of dew were clear
And playfully as she came near
The thorns did glistened but obeyed
The hand that once had held the spade

The hand that held a knife to prune
A blossom tender for her room
Did cut the rose, a fragrant scent
She’d not return ‘til this one spent

Letting Go

‘Sister’

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.

Appreciate all life (part 2)

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.

Some Days

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

The Examined Life

Daily life exists on many levels.
Different creatures exist and respect should be given.

The shyness of one is our chance to be tender.
The boldness of another is our chance to be taught.

Could I...?

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?

I would.

My best reality...

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?