One Amazing Writer---The Original

2011-12-30T11:44:00.000-05:00

So---when I was it I ceased writing a blog post daily? I have a number of blogs online, but rarely add to them now. Returning to this, the original blog, seem appropriate, since life tends to come full cycle.

I still keep a hand written journal daily, but as a way of sorting myself and freeing myself of negativity. It's not necessarily a record of my day or anything I think another would find valuable to read.
I still write poetry very regularly, but again, with a pen in a notebook, and not while seated at a keyboard.

A lot has changed in the last two years! I used to write lengthy email daily to a man friend and a woman friend. Now I write 140 character statements on Twitter.

I read today in The Writer's Almanac that Astronomer Edwin Hubble announced that there were other galaxies beside the Milky Way in 1924. I mention that because less than 90 years ago mankind thought our galaxy was the only one. When I was a girl in school I was taught that Columbus thought the world was flat until 1492. According to this site http://www.strangequestions.com/question/250/Who-first-discovered-that-the-world-is-round.html that is not true at all, yet there were some in the 15th century who did think the world was flat. I just realized this week that nativity scenes are not accurate, since the three wise men did not find Christ when he was in the manger, but rather later when he was a toddler.

Change. Correction of errors. An ever opening mind. Different perspectives. My sense of Reality is much different now than it was when I first starting keeping a blog.

I remember life before television. Now I carry a netbook in my purse. I remember how excited I was when I was in junior high school and my mother purchased a portable typewriter. Now little children are raised to learn to use a keyboard before they attend public school.

I speak often of God. Reality is one of the names I use for God. 34 years ago I asked God to reveal Himself to me. My sense of Reality continues to expand as I age. God doesn't change. Hopefully, I do!

Amazing Grace

2011-12-29T16:45:00.000-05:00

EVERYTHING'S COMING UP ROSES

2010-12-04T12:53:00.000-05:00

I don't think it matters so much if the cup is half empty or half full. It matters more what's in the cup.

I've had a year of roses and they are still blooming in December.

WHERE ANGELS PLAY

2010-07-23T13:13:00.001-04:00

The room so neat
It's almost bare
Bookcase, a shelf
A desk and chair
An office where
The sick will meet
With therapist
A woman sweet
To tell their tales
Of pain and woe
Misunderstood
By friend and foe
She smiles and nods
Sometimes she sighs
At moments tears
Are in her eyes
She feels the pain
And eases stress
So patients can
Receive some rest
An interlude
Of peace occurs
A question asked
A memory stirs
An insight comes
The pain departs
And then with joy
Within their hearts
Both laugh
As angels come to play

AFTER THE STORM

2009-10-18T16:13:00.000-04:00

I want to run to the nearest clock and stop the minutes from passing. Slow down! Slow down! That's my life you are ticking away!

Then I laugh, assured if the time passes swiftly, I will simply be given extra years so I can still do all I want to do. I remind myself there is no hurry for anything. Everything is right on time.

Just a few weeks ago I was experiencing pain. The situation didn't change, but I did, so there is no pain any longer. There is peace and joy in it's place. The same people who would tell me to stop hitting my hand with a hammer if I cried out that it hurt, expect me to stand still as they create pain for me. I apply the same logic as I would with the hammer. I cease doing as I was doing. I allow that hammers are useful when applied rightly, and the people who are hurtful to me may do just fine relating to others. I set myself free and continuing on my pain free way. It works just fine each time I apply the lesson learned.

Was I sad? Of course I was sad! People are humans, not hammers. I care and I grieve deeply. But grieving does not last forever, or in my case, for long. My conscience is clear, so I don't need to go through the "What if I had done this?" or "I shouldn't have done that." I just feel the sorrow that someone and I can no longer be close.

Life is full of someones. Spending a great deal of time mourning the loss of relating to just one, makes no sense to me. While life doesn't always make sense to me, I do like to make sense to myself. There are no vacuums. When something is removed, something else takes up the space it leaves behind. I don't rush to fill spaces. There are times I enjoy having more moments to myself, unfettered by the need to relate to another.

I always liked the song WHEN YOU CAN'T BE WITH THE ONE YOU LOVE, LOVE THE ONE YOU'RE WITH. Spending time alone is a most rewarding experience.

COMMITTED TO LOVING

2009-09-22T14:06:00.004-04:00

For over a week I went through a lot of stress, which stretched my emotions to the breaking point, but only enough for me to shed tears, not enough to lose any sanity, or even any sleep. Stress, as it will do, caused me to change. Change is always welcome.

This week I was rejected for having changed. I was laughed at...ridiculed. Since the person choosing to do that was my favorite person I went into an emotion whirlwind, shaken to my core.

I have survived. I have bid goodbye to that person. I accepted the pain and it didn't kill me. I reeled from it for a bit, and it altered my sense of reality and self. But I am a better person as a result. Given the choice to lower the esteem in which I hold someone else, or lowering my self esteem, the other party loses every time. I live the opposite of the way I was raised to live. Pride and fear can take a flying leap.

I would love to say this has never happened before, but that is not true. I have cared for many people and held them in high regard, only to lose respect for them as they treated me as less than worthy of respect. I view respect as a healthy fear of loss. Once someone treats me poorly and then laughs at me, I lose any fear of loss I have. I would rather be away from that person. I say goodbye.

Healthy people laugh with one another, not at one another. They talk to one another, not at one another. Once I am treated as an inanimate object and told to negate my own emotions, I do whatever needs to be done to get free of that relationship. There are no exceptions.

Abuse comes in many forms. I choose not to enable it.

BREAK TIME

2009-09-19T09:42:00.004-04:00

I'm stuck.

That happens sometimes. It's as if the wheel of life has stopped and the gears simply aren't meshing and turning at the moment. It's akin to being perched at the top of a Ferris wheel, waiting for the ride to begin again. While I am here, I take the time to look around me and settle back to review my day, and if stuck long enough, my life.

In recent months, I have begun a number of things, a book, a craft/sewing project/ learning to play a keyboard, but I have not continued on. There was a time years ago when I wasn't able to finish things that interested me, as if I didn't deserve such things...but I got past that so long ago that I have accomplished a great deal more than I ever thought I would.

But right now I am stuck.

I've gone through so many changes lately, I sometimes feel like a character in The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I love the result of all of the changes, and have no regret at all. But I am stuck!

Making decisions and following through has cleared confusion out of my life often. I would like to go forward and follow my creative urges. Instead I keep coming across blocks, so I spend time purging things that are in my way, rather than creating new things. I can be grateful the blocks that come up now are things outside of me, and not created from any lack of esteem. It simply feels odd to be changing what I do and who I relate to at such a rapid rate.

As I sit here writing, a light goes off. I have grown. I have outgrown situations and even people that were once very helpful to me. The same things that helped the wheel to turn are now blocking it from turning! Amazing.

Perhaps I am stuck for a good reason. In a life centered in love, there are times we need to slow our pace a little to allow room for those we love to either part with us, or decide to come along as we continue in our growth. To honor the proess, we need to pause and reflect on what has come before, to be able to release it. The wheel only turns in one direction. There is no reverse.

RIGHT ON TIME

2009-08-26T13:38:00.002-04:00

I'm sitting here listening to lastfm.com...Paul Simon-Under African Skies. Earphones are a most wonderful invention. My eyes tell me I am sitting at a table on the second floor of the Trenton Public Library, but my mind laughs and my foot moves in time to the music. Senses are a wonder thing. I can transport myself beyond my environment with sounds, that seem to be inside my head. Usually when surrounded by people I like to remain open and receptive, but here in an urban library where I want to read and write the ear plugs and music are a coping mechanism.

Ahh! Now it's Harry Chapin and Mail Order Annie. I'm playing catch up! Let me explain.

In the course of my life, I did not watch TV as others did. I rarely ever went to a concert or a play. By the time I was 26, I was widowed. My life did not seem to go the same way as my peers, but it was my life, so I made decisions as to what I wanted to experience and what I didn't want to experience. I decided by the time I reached thirty that I had no desire to watch television when I could read a book and learn something instead. For fifteen years I read non-fiction. I kept extensive journals. I explored my inner world. I found my gifts and developed them into talents. I worked at life.

I reasoned then there would be plenty of time left to play catch up when I grew old, thinking then that I would be old when I reached my sixties. Well, I reached my sixties and I wasn't old, so I just kept going, but a few months ago I rethought my plan. If I wait until I FEEL old, I may not want to play catch up!

So here I am...retired and loving it. I've always loved music, and sang often as I worked, but the only songs I knew were from my early childhood...songs of my parent's generation. That came in handy when I worked nursing the elderly, but it did nothing to give me common ground with my peers. My peers now ARE the elders in this country, and I do recognize the tunes, but I don't know who sang what. I didn't learn the names of the groups or recording artists. I didn't keep up with the times.

All of that strikes me funny. I look around at the state the world is in, and realize I didn't miss much of any consequence...other than some fine entertainment. Well, I am now being entertained.

It's my turn.

A RECYCLED LIFE

2009-08-09T15:59:00.008-04:00

I have a friend in Florida who rescues Dalmatians. I thought of her yesterday when I bought Buford Bear and his buddy Rufus Mutt for $.50 apiece at a yard sale. The price was right and I know they won't eat much. I questioned my sanity for a bit, but as I set them on my bed, I laughed. They looked very much at home. I just know the more I look at the fellas, the more I am going to want to write a children's story about them. Others have a muse. I have amuse. (It doesn't take much to amuse me!)

Today I read about composting and was surprised to find there are many things that can go into a compost heap that I wouldn't have considered. The fact that I live in one room on the third floor of a YWCA residence completely surrounded by cement and asphalt has nothing to do with that!

Stuffed animals and composting? Here I sit, after nearly six years of living in one room in a downtown area, day dreaming once again about having a worm bed. Should I ever wind up senile in a nursing home, the aides are going to be walking around scratching their heads as I chatter on. I won't be asking for any dolls, but I might ask for Rufus and if anyone has seen my earthworms.

This month I quit Twitter and facebook. I had the experience, enjoyed it for what it was, and left while the party was still going. I'm thinking of creating my own site and calling it Twitbook. You know? A simple site for people like me who get lost on the way to the bathroom. I did find something that suits me to a T, though. Its called Stumble Upon. I explored it today and had a great deal of fun doing some supervised surfing. It's just the right tool to allow me to follow my interests, yet not get lost along the way. It's akin to having an implanted homing device.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I have received consent from the state library to use a table there for cutting out patterns. The space is attractive, quiet, well lit...everything I could ask for from a crafting space. Tomorrow, rather than carrying my laptop in a bag over my shoulder, I will have a bag with material, patterns, tissue paper and Fiskars (scissors). I'll lay out patterns on tissue paper to make duplicate sizes, and then lay out some patterns on material. The material I will be using is from used jeans. I found some at a yard sale for $2.00 a pair. They were exactly what I wanted. I intend to make lined denim patchwork vests. Each one will be different than the last...one of a kind creations. A woman who runs a consignment store in New Hope, PA said she would be interested in seeing them.

It's been over ten years since I sat down to create with my sewing machine. Ten years! When I arrived in New Jersey nine years ago with my computer and my sewing machine, I had a dream. Making my own dreams come true has been a life-long habit. I learned that plans don't work, although I make them to have a sense of direction. Dreams, though, come true. Dreams don't have a time limit as most plans do. I bought a new machine five years ago. It's still new. I have only used it a few times. Now it will earn it's price back for me, just as every sewing machine I ever owned did in the past.

Because I live where I do, I am considered legally homeless. I am now the most comfy cozy homeless woman I have ever known. I tour the world with my computer, meeting people from all over, and now I will return to sewing and crafting, just as when I owned my house. It should go well. I have no stress of mortgage payments, house taxes, fuel, or utilitiy bills. I have nothing better to do than to create some patterns and designs.

I am a child at play. Rufus and Buford understand that.

POSITIVE ONE LINERS

2009-07-09T10:13:00.004-04:00

This week I have explored other postive thinking writers and added a few to my Twitter account, just to be able to see quick positive one liners. I think in such things most often, so it's refreshing to read that others do, too.

One liners have a way of sticking in my mind, and are easy to draw upon when I come across puzzling situations or unsteady emotions. The ones I used most often are my own! For years, I kept intense journals, diggng as deeply as I knew how to see what was "in there". I found I was built in layers. There would be a layer of muck and then a layer of gold, diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds and all things wondrous and awe inspiring. That I held such treasure amazed me. The muck I understood, and could even figure out where it came from, but the treasure caused me little more than marvel. I saw myself just as I see young children, full of innocence and beauty...gifted and delightful. I felt encouraged to keep digging. That was when the one liners began to occur. I would find them upon re-reading entries.

The one that comes to mind most often is: Love without respect is emtionalism.
I have meditated on that often over the years that have past since I wrote it. Thinking about it has changed the course of my life.

I remember at the time having to look up the word emotionalism! The sentence was something far beyond any wisdom I consciously possessed. Yet there it was, and there was no denyng I was the one who wrote it.

There are those who might debate with me and say such a statement is not a positive one liner. I smile. There is no debate. That one liner has cleared out a great deal of confusion and helped me to rid myself of some of the layers of muck. It has allowed respect for the emotions of others even when they lacked respect in the way they displayed those emotions.

Postive is not always pretty. Positive is sure and true. Positive dispels negativity.
Postive makes a strong statement. Positive creates energy.

MOODY ME

2009-06-22T09:20:00.002-04:00

I appreciate solitude. In my time alone I am stuck with myself and everything I feel. I used to love analyzing others and taking things apart. I took apart my Cinderella watch once to see how it worked. Not being a genius, I had to lay it to rest afterward. Oops! Now I do that same type of thing with myself, only I don't remove any working parts. In the course of journal keeping and deep inventorying of myself I found a lot of things that motivate others. Well, I'll be! Yup. There were answers right there within for why some people around me acted the way they did. There was no secret formula to get them to change, but it was nice to realize they were simply flawed as I was and chose different responses to life than I did.

Self honesty is an incredible experience. If I were to be as honest with others as I am with myself I would reply to, "You are too hard on yourself" with, "What's the matter? Did I strike a chord in you that you want to deny?" I'm not too hard on myself at all, but there have been plenty of people who have been hard on me. They didn't want to look within, so they accused me of the traits they liked least in themselves.

I got fat. Then I got fatter. Now I am losing the excess weight. As I got fat there were people around me who laughed and said I wasn't all that fat. I knew I was. A person doesn't get to be 229 pounds (I'm only 5'3") without being fat.

I am still surprised each time I make a statement about myself that there are so many people willing to disagree with me. I am not open to debating my identity with anyone. I haven't placed anyone in authority over me. I make true statements about myself. I am still fat. I look pretty enough, and am thinner than I was, but I am fat nonetheless. When I am not fat any longer I will gladly say so! I laugh and look forward to that achievement.

Lately I have felt disappointed pretty often. There are people in my life who tell me to expect something and don't follow through. I feel sad for them. I don't like being set up to feel disappointed, so I know I will have to let go of them as friends if they don't correct themselves.

I have also noticed others are getting in touch with me more often and we have more in common as time passes. That causes me joy.

I keep changing where I go and what I do, since I believe in routine, but not ruts. As I do that I become more enthused about my everyday life. I am meeting more people. It's a human trait to be at your best when meeting someone new, so I get to see myself at my best and others at their best more often. My suggestion to anyone who begins losing enthusiasm is to stand at a bus stop and start a conversation with a stranger. When we meet we all tend to define ourselves to one another. It helps us to grow and see our lives through a renewed set of eyes. Meeting new people also gets us outside of ourselves and increases our areas of interest.

I don't try to hold one mood all day long. There will be stresses and pleasures in every day. Part of thriving is to experience all of what life offers, and select the best from those experiences.

Now how about that? I am becoming an expert on thriving. These are lessons I greatly enjoy!

THE UNWANTED CHILD

2009-06-21T09:07:00.002-04:00

I wasn't wanted as a child. I was raised much the way cattle are. I was fed and physical needs were met. I was a daughter, an investment for old age. I fulfilled that obligation and did nurse my parents before they died. In that time they made verbal amends to me, admitting I had not been treated rightly.

Verbal amends helped. They didn't take away all of the damage none, no more than my amends can take away all the damage done to another, but they paved the way for me to learn what it is to feel wanted and to love myself.

My father was a mad man, a lot like his father before him. He was highly respected in the community, and seen as a kind man. Behind closed doors he was a tyrant...a most moody individual whose moods ran the home. He had little but ridicule to offer my mother, brother and me. My mother adored and protected my brother as much as she could and seemed to blame me for being born, as if I had any say so in the matter. I was told not to outshine my brother. I was sent to my room so often, it became my home place. Today I live in one room with no problem at all.

I used to think I was less than those who had their parent's love, but have found that isn't the case at all. We all have the same value. Some are cherished. Some are not.
Learning to cherish myself has been a long, difficult to learn process, but I am doing well. I have a great deal of hope for myself and my life. My sense of humor runs deep. I am 62 with the ambitions of someone forty years younger. Some of us are late bloomers.

My parents are forgiven. I think of them with love. I don't try to change my memories or deny anything. I want to be loved as who I am, not as who someone pretends I am, so I love the memory of them as such. They both had many fine gifts which I can emulate and make my own. They were both intelligent people and both were very physically attractive. My father's word was gold. It was often wrong, yes, but he kept it. When he said he was going to do something, he was already on his way to do it.
My mother handled money better than a banker. Were she in charge of the country, there never would have been a deficit...and everything would be clean, too. I never saw anything dirty in the home, but neither did I ever see her sweat.

The best way I can figure to honor my parent's amends is to keep going...to continue to grow as I age...to live life to it's fullest and allow joy to replace sorrow. In the end they wanted to see me happy. It counts.

STALLING AS I SWITCH GEARS

2009-06-15T10:32:00.004-04:00

I am not working on a new book. If I were working on a new book, I wouldn't be writing this blog post. The new book I am not working on has a working title: THE BOOK I NEVER WANTED TO WRITE. It's autobiographical, so I have all of the information I need on hand. I obviously have a computer and time to write.

This then, is a warm up exercise, leading to working on TBINWTW. I recognize the process.

Ah! A good thing! I paused to do some honest research online. Since much of what I will be writing about has to do with grieving out my own life, I now have a list of articles on grieving. I read the Kubler-Ross book in 1974. I have recognized the stages of grief in everyday happenings. In order to grow and change, we all need to grieve often. I may try out for the grief Olympics one day. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. I can go through that in the course of a few minutes at times as I see things in myself which need to give up the ghost.

I love to write. I recognize I am now writing about my process of writing a book!

THIS POST IS NOW HISTORY

2009-06-14T08:35:00.002-04:00

It's Sunday again! I want to say "Where does the time go?" and "Time flies!" but surely there is a new or at least different way to express surprise at how quickly the present moment becomes a memory. I'll have to think about that today and get back to you when this post is in my past. It only takes a breath for that to happen.

Time. It's always been a strange concept to me. We all use the measure of it as if that meant something important. I am a certain age. I have been working at my job for a certain length of time. I've known you for moments, days or years.

I threw all of that stuff away. One day I considered that eternity is a right now experience. "Throughout eternity" simply means something isn't going to change. Eternity cannot be measured. It has no beginning or end...otherwise it isn't eternal. So, it's right now.

I live as a spirit having a physical experience of life. That works for me.

Who is I?

2009-06-07T14:22:00.004-04:00

Hurray! I was able, at last, to figure out how to reclaim this blog! What's a few years among friends? At this point I have blogs all over the Internet, but there's no place like home, and this is where it all started. I have a blog for poetry, a blog for events in my area that have to do with the arts, a blog for odd ball stuff...you name it. I am the Bountiful Blogger. I promised myself to get them all together and begin adding to all of them regularly. Promising me anything is rare, so I need to keep my word.

Have you noticed that virtual reality feels like a place at times...as if we really do travel from place to place online and each place has a "feel" to it? I've decided there must be some truth in all of that. Spirit is stronger in my life than physical reality, so this entire Internet experience seems to be a good way to bring the two together. I have to sit at a physical computer and type the words to communicate, but other than that, it's an inside out experience, so my soul gets recognition. I'm all for that since I live as a spirit having a physical experience of life. I sometimes speak of my mind, body and emotions as three different elements...so the I that I am speaking from has to be Spirit. That's the eternal stuff. My body can get ill. My mind can be confused or clouded. My emotions can be in turmoil. I still exist waiting for the confusion to pass, the turmoil to end or the body to heal. Yup, I is a statement of Spirit, at least in my case.

(The child within loves finding a way to say "I is" and get away with it!)

In Anticipation of Miracles

2006-06-03T10:11:00.000-04:00

I've been up against it for a number of weeks. Such times occur in life. They let me know what lessons I have learned since the last time I was up against it.

Today I took pictures out of frames and put them away in an album. They were all of people that I have dearly loved and still hold feelings for, but who, for one reason or another, are walking a different path than the one I have chosen. All have blessed my life in some way or I wouldn't have had their pictures displayed. All have drifted away or I wouldn't have put the pictures away.

Dealing with life head on is not for the weak of heart. A heart is broken often in the course of life. A broken heart remains open. A broken heart has room for compassion, and compassion is needed to keep a flow of genuine love in life. Loving doesn't hurt. Wanting to be loved when another isn't loving hurts. Loving others keeps us going on days when we can't think of anything to excite us and cause us to want to "go do".

I don't have the life I would like to have, but some others do have that life, and I can rejoice with them and for them. I don't have the same problems that some have, but I can feel sorrow with them and for them.
What I have is the life that I have. I can find things to be grateful for within that life.

Sometimes life is composed of one grey day after another, when just getting through the day requires sustained effort. Those are the days I treat myself as I would a loved one who had the same situation as I had. I call that "living by rote". I may not feel loving toward myself, but I can act loving toward myself. I can do the right thing, knowing that at some point the days will no longer seem grey. I can practice good cheer until good cheer actually comes again.

At all times I can pray. I can ask for the grace to walk through a troubling time, and at the end of the day I can say thank you.

Thank You, Lord, for what you have given me, for what You have taken away, and for what You have left behind.

All of life is a gift. What we choose to do with it, is our gift back to life.

So what have I learned since the last time I walked through a rough time?
I have a lot less fear than I had in the past. My eyes are opened wider than in the past. I rest more and am not pushing as hard as in the past.
I lean even more heavily on God. I've stopped judging my own feelings as good or bad. I simply feel them, knowing that they will flow one into the other. I spend far more time in the present moment than in remembering the past or thinking about the future. This time, too, I take the time to play. I do simple things, like watch a movie or play a game. I read books that I had been wanting to read. I thank people who share with me, and walk away from those who want to pass blame.

I have hope...not of anything in particular, just hope. I will feel more cheerful as time passes. Pretty and positive things will occur. I don't tell myself what they have to be; I simply leave a space within my feelings to anticipate them.

I give myself advice:
"Expect miracles. Don't tell the miracles what they have to be. Let the miracles change me. Let myself be a miracle."

Gold Digger

2006-05-07T20:46:00.000-04:00

I'm due to start a new job tomorrow in genealogy research. I've done ghost writing. Now I will be doing ghost hunting: tracking down people through public records. This all began as a favor for a friend of mine who is a research librarian. She began the search and hit a snag, so we pondered over what she had found together, and I saw something that stood out as if it was a neon sign. As I told her what I had deduced she said, "That's it! Now it all makes sense!" The patron who requested information from her has now employed me to continue the search.

I've been hard pressed often to try to explain to people how I happen to find the jobs that I work at. My explanation is that they find me. When I put one foot in front of the other I wind up in the right place at the right time. I don't go searching, although this job will force me to do that. What I need usually comes to me.

I don't suggest that other people try to live the way I do. I simply found that when I try to live the way others live, life goes backward. I don't know why I am the way I am. I just am. We all have different paths to walk in this life. It's only important that we find our path and walk along it. It's my goal to do as much good as I can do with my life. As some others seek to amass, I seek to give away. I struck gold within a while back, and the more I mine it, the deeper the vein seems to be.

Mining the gold isn't nearly as difficult as trying to give it away. I live in a world overly crowded with people who do not see their own worth. They place their value outside of themselves, on what they have accomplished, what they own and how much money they can accumulate in one lifetime. I have nothing against accomplishment, owning possessions, or having a financial reserve. Such things are pleasant experiences to have. They do not, though, decide my personal worth. My value as a person does not decrease when I am sick, experience material loss, or am broke. I may not feel as happy, but I feel just as valuable as when in better physical circumstances.

I am not one bit more valuable than any other human being, nor am I less valuable than any other human being. Those who treat me as if I have greater or lesser value than they possess do themselves a disservice. They have not yet touched their inner gold. Some will pass through life never knowing how valuable they were. Some will try to convince those of us who act upon our value that we are mistaken. Other will accuse us of being overly proud. But some get curious. They see, in the shine in our eyes and the smile on our faces, something that they experienced at some time in their past, and they come closer to ask questions.

That's when I get to give my gold away.

Little Things

2006-05-05T16:19:00.000-04:00

As the gnats swarmed around my head
I swatted, first with one hand, then the other.
With both hands flailing, I thought,
"This can't be worth it!"
And retreated to a place of shade away from the little pests.
They were in numbers sufficient enough to wreck a picnic,
But not a life.

What's in a Name?

2006-04-23T09:02:00.000-04:00

I feel sad this morning, but peaceful. It's not an "unpretty" feeling at all. I alternate between a cat licking her fur, and a dog licking it's wounds. On one hand I feel good about myself. On the other I am sitting quietly recognizing that wounds have occurred and that they will heal. Sorrow is much prettier than anger. I'm accepting that I have become a person that I have wanted to be, against all odds. The glory in that goes directly to God.

If I were to die today there would be some who would say, "She died young." There would be other's who would say, "She lived a full life." At fifty-nine, I realize that I may have many years ahead of me, but I also realize that there are a lot more years behind me, than what may lie ahead. As I see it, all of my days are extra now. I've married, been widowed, raised children and nursed my parents unto death. Home and family has always meant more to me than anything else. I've had my heart full in that area, and I've had my heart broken. Both things taught me a lot about love.

Fifty-nine is an odd age. It's not quite old, but certainly not young. "Old enough!" is the way I think about it. The world has changed a lot since I was a girl, so I'm not having the experiences I would have liked to have had at this age, but there are just enough people who cherish and respect, for me to be glad to be alive.

I am a homemaker without a home, a wife without a husband, a mother without children and a daughter without parents...yet here I am, still Beth. I have no particular plan for my life, for plans, obviously, haven't proven to work well for me, but I do have a loving sense of direction.
There are grown men and women now who call me "Mom" and from the way they respond to me, they truly mean it. They cherish. They respect. I fill with awe when I think of them, just as I used to do the same when I looked upon those I gave birth to. The feelings are identical.

Throughout my life I have been severely criticized for being true to myself. There were those who criticized me for marrying young, but when my husband died when he was only twenty-seven, they stopped. There were those who criticized me for striving to remain home when I was raising my children, and those who criticized me for keeping my parents out of a nursing home, and not worrying about what would happen when they passed. My father died in 1992. My mother died in 1999. I'm still alive. I've found it odd that I have been more strongly criticized for the things I have done right in life, than for anything I did wrong. There were always plenty of people willing to encourage me to do something wrong, and a lot fewer to encourage me to do as I felt needed to be done. I think the only reason I have found that odd is that I really have been true to myself. I wouldn't have wanted to face myself in the mirror if I hadn't done what was on my heart to do.

Life hasn't been the way I would like it to be, but I've become the woman I want to be. There are many contrasts in life. Things that I don't like seem to make things that I do like stick out more. There was a time, years ago, when I didn't want to live and was too much of a coward to die. Today, not only do I enjoy my experience of life, I like myself, even when others don't.

Amazing grace. An Awesome God. I continue to write about Him, and about what He does with me, which makes me Oneamazingwriter.

Sarcasm the Cutting Edge

2006-04-21T22:54:00.000-04:00

I entered into an online discussion today in which a man had ridiculed Christians saying that their belief that worshipping throughout eternity was shallow. It struck me funny. I saw no depth in a grave and said so. The man said I had attacked him. Apparently those who like to ridicule do not like having pointed out that they have said something humorous. He replied "How Christian of you."

Those who want to hate, are going to hate. If I have learned anything I have learned that. I feel no need to defend my Christianity to that man. It's my Christianity that defends me against such people! "Fight this battle for me please, Lord."

Those who resort to sarcasm as humor laugh as they stick in knives. I never saw stabbing as something to laugh at. A quick retort simply shows a mind that doesn't leave room for the humanity of another. As a Christian I pray to be slow to anger and quick to forgive. That works just fine for me. My laughter is that of joy. It is a simple thing based upon the ability to see how human and humor truly go together. Taking myself too seriously makes no sense to me at all.

I have been told by many sarcastic people that I am not logical. I see no logic in sarcasm. It makes not sense to me to build oneself up by putting another person down. I laughed at the illogic of the man's statement. I felt sad for the man when he decided that I wasn't acting Christian enough for him. He didn't say that his name was Christ, so I didn't worry about it. I am puzzled at times by those who aren't Christian trying to tell those of us who are that we aren't doing it right. And then I laugh again. I think it's funny! Things that make no sense often strike me funny. Slap stick humor and I get along well.

If cutting edge technology means dehumanizing oneself, I think I will settle for old-fashioned living. I can do more good with a feather than with a knife. I prefer to tickle people. Becoming a meek geek is a challenge. I've always enjoyed a challenge.

A Forever Love

2006-04-20T15:37:00.000-04:00

Camera shy lady
Mother's precious child
Just one photo
To remember you by

Tug at my heartstings
They are secure
You have a longer leash now
But I'm still on the other end

The Extreme Geek's Beginner's Guide to Dating Part I

2006-04-17T08:24:00.000-04:00

1. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but if there is a mountain between the two points, and one is walking, there are times that going the long way around may prove to be, not only less exhausting than trying to go in a straight line, but also, in the long run, the shortest distance. True, one could tunnel through the mountain, but by the time that operation is completed the reason one was traveling from one point to another may no longer be valid.

2. 2x1=2 1+1=2 I can work on a project on Saturday and Sunday or I can work with another on Saturday and we can both take a break on Sunday. If I feel restless when I have a whole day to myself, I can work on a project by myself on Sunday. I could also make plans with the same person that I worked with Saturday and find something to do that isn't work. When loneliness is factored out, good humor often rushes in to fill the void.

3. A dog is not as intelligent as I am. I cannot teach calculus to a dog. The dog does not care what I know or don't know. The dog will, though, do what I train it to do within it's capabilities, regardless of my manner of teaching it. The dog wants to learn. I can experiment with the dog. I can watch it's expressions and see what posture it takes as I try different tones of voice in giving a command. The dog can be used as a firewall to keep intrusive humans outside the home and away from my computer. If I laugh, cry or occassionally pet the dog, it won't tell anyone. My sense of emotional privacy will remain intact.

4. A woman is more intelligent than a dog, but not as predictable. (Refer to #1) A woman will place an expectation that we spend time together away from my work. (Refer to #2) A woman will care more about the tone of my voice when I speak to her than what I have to say. (Refer to #3) At this point it is important to reconsider the dog. The same dog that acts as firewall may now act as a buffer between a woman and me. If the dog likes the woman, there is a chance that I might, too. If the woman likes the dog, there's a chance that she may like me. If I like the woman, the woman likes the dog, the dog likes the woman, but the woman doesn't like me, the dog will still like me anyway, and the two of us can go off alone together and keep one another company.

Love's Path

2006-04-16T10:31:00.000-04:00

How does one communicate the path of a soul? Can one communicate the path of a soul? Does one need to communicate the path of a soul?

Questions like that were on my mind this morning. My path has brought me to write this page. Your path has brought you to read this page. I've decided that it's most important to simply make certain that love is the path and the action on the path. Where that path leads either one of us is love's decision. Why confuse myself with further inquiry?

Hi! there! 'Glad we can connect for a moment in time! It's a trip; isn't it?
Whatever we can agree upon will cause us a moment of ease, and whatever we disagree about will send us in different directions. Both attraction and repulsion generate energy and supply direction.

So what brought you here? Me? I'm writing because it's an especially quiet and incredibly pretty day. I have no desire to physically go anywhere at the moment, my head is already full of things I have been studying, and my thoughts are on someone that I have never met.

Like I said, it's a trip, isn't it? Holding people in thought whom we have never met isn't new to any of us who use the Internet to connect with one another. In my case I go through the whole phenomena of having a crush or "falling in love" at times. Journeying in mind and spirit has an effect on one's emotions. Sometimes there's simply that special "click" and the curiosity that follows it sets me on a new course.

I analyzed the sensation for as long as I felt the need to do so several years ago. Then I let go and laughed. Attractions keep me interested in life. Repulsions help me to better define my preferences. When I am attracted I forget about myself. When I am repulsed I learn more about myself. I decided that both must be necessary, so I enjoy both.

I have more time than most to simply sit, think and feel. I love to write, so I record some of my thoughts and feelings. It's my hope that in doing so, those who have less time than I do might find some answers for themselves. I like things that are both pretty and practical.

If something "clicked" in you as you read this, take it and run with it. It's free. It's my intention to share love indiscriminately. If you were drawn here, then you are meant to feel loved. Please do!

Life is just too short to spend too much time quibbling over what love is and who gets it. Take it with you! It will tell you who you are...for love tends to define us, rather than allow us to define it.

A Promise to a Child

2006-04-15T00:18:00.000-04:00

Over twenty years ago I wrote The Adventures of Francis T. Bear for my children. Each day I would sit at my IBM typewriter and Francis would record more of his antics so that I would have something to share with my children before they went to sleep at night

Now an eight-year-old in Boston, Massachusetts and a seven-year-old in Sydney, Australia, who met on the Internet through their mothers, are having an adventure with a tooth fairy. On Friday night, once a week I go online and read their latest adventures to a child in Adelaide, Australia, from a microphone connected to my computer in Trenton, New Jersey. The stories are for her Saturday morning listening pleasure.

Times change. Characters change. But the love in the writing and telling doesn’t change. It still protects the innocent, and it will travel half way around the world in a flash to do so.

I’ve promised the child who hears the story to publish a series of books as the girls and the fairy have their adventures together. I told the child who inspired these stories that I would dedicate each book to her and she would see her name within each. She has no idea how involved finding a publisher and competing against thousands of other writers will be. She doesn’t need to know. She’s a child.

The story will write itself, as it has been doing, but the publisher won’t come looking for it. Research, query letters, submissions, rejections, the blood, sweat and tears of the real world, will all have to be faced and surmounted.

A promise to a child is a promise to keep.

All Debts Cancelled: Paid in Full

2006-04-14T02:09:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I smiled at you, so I thought I'd do that this morning. What am I doing sitting up after 2:00 am ? Good question!

This has been a remarkable day in a continuing series of remarkable days. Oops! 2:00 am? OK. Yesterday was a most remarkable day! I have no doubt that today is, too. I'm simply sitting up to finish glowing about yesterday. Those of us who have known deep sorrow, tend to know deep joy.

I have some special women friends who are younger than I. They have trusted me a lot and have often asked for guidance. Being in a position to guide another adult is a most humbling experience. What if I am wrong? What if I miss something and suggest something that will set the other person back, rather than encourage her forward? I feel the depth of my humanity when I am asked to enter into another's confidence.

Yesteday I had the opportunity to spend time with each woman, and to see and hear things that added to the glow I already had. Their eyes shine. Their smiles are wide and real. They are making their dreams a reality! I knew they could do it. I didn't know if they would do it. I am gleeful!

Have you ever tried to sleep when you are gleeful? It's a lost cause. Joy begets joy begets joy. (No. That's not a typo! The repetition is intentional. It's called overjoyed!) The stuff has no limit, and refuses limitation imposed upon it. It will have it's way.

I always forget that I receive what I ask for others. Now there are people who believe that I can achieve my dreams. Chivalry is not dead. Men are holding open doors of possibility for me, and running block for me so that I can walk a straight path. Women are being kind, thoughtful and outright nurturing! They hug me and let go, placing no claim on me or my life.

Unconditional love.

It cannot be earned. The price was paid over 2,000 years ago. A gift both coming and going, it's a win-win option.

Fire Power

2006-04-10T22:02:00.000-04:00

Years ago I opted to pursue character building over comfort and maturity over sophistication. What I didn't know at that time was that a degree of comfort and sophistication would come along with the package! Well, I'll be...! It's truly a very good thing, for I found that I have a defective martyr's gene that doesn't function well at all. I serve because it's fun and it's my idea. When someone tells me I MUST serve I become the stereo-typical red head. It fits my personality to a T. While I enjoy mellow, I "do" firecracker easily. POW! and then I'm just fine and ready to be mellow once again. I figure mellow simply means that my fuse has grown as I have aged. It takes longer for me to blow. The explosion isn't any greater than it was when I was younger. I'm not dynamite...just a firecracker. I live, though, in a world full of reactionaries, who are use to far more fire power and expect the explosion to continue. I chuckle as I walk away.

The Land of Geek

2006-04-09T00:09:00.000-04:00

This week I was welcomed into the fold in the Land of Geek. To me that is Paradise Revisited. I feel the same as I did on my very first day of school at the age of five. Miss my mother? There was a building full of people and there were new things to learn and people who were going to teach me! I think my first experience of separation anxiety came at the end of the day when I had to go back home and couldn't return until morning.

What, you ask, is the Land of Geek? It's where people fight like children in a play yard, challenge one another's statements and opinions, laugh as if everything is just fine in the world around them, and rush forward to answer any question asked. It is where there are as many perspectives of life as there are sets of eyes. It is where people use their God given intellect, even if they don't believe in God. It is a place where those who don't know the fine art of relating are related to anyway, and those who do know, do their best to pass along simple communication skills.

The Land of Geek is a place of sharing, where you can learn more than you need to know, become aware of more than you wanted to know, and find someone to agree with you against all odds.

It is my considered opinion that it is the Geeks who will keep the world intact so that the Meek can inherit it. Having lived at least half of my life already, I am very interested in helping to hold this world together for those of the generations after me. I entered in to learn about them and to hug them, and found myself as they embraced me.

My goal in this life is to be a Meek Geek. When intellect rules emotion and the two walk hand in hand, Love reigns supreme.

The Right To Be Wrong

2006-04-01T20:24:00.000-05:00

I was informed of my rights today (or rather the lack thereof) but since the person sharing the information wasn't a police officer or judge, I chuckled. When communication breaks down to one talking about apples and the other talking about oranges, I do what I can to make a fruit salad. Taking myself or life too seriously has never given me any sense of well being, so I don't do that any longer. I thrive on good cheer, and I'm all for me thriving!

A lot of people have helped me along the way in life, or I wouldn't be all that cheerful now. They shared coping skills with me that I wouldn't have thought of on my own. One lesson in point of view is something that I love to pass along. A man took out a coin and held it between us and asked me to describe what I saw. I told him that I saw an upside down man's head. He said he saw something very different and described it to me. He explained that we could both fight about that, or we could each look at the other's point of view and get a clearer picture of both sides of the coin.

Another man shared with me that we all have a right to be wrong. I replied, "Huh?" (Being told something that is entirely different than any message I have received in the past tends to cause me to temporarily put on my dunce cap.) It took some time for me to digest that and to see how thinking that way would impact my life. I tried it out. I liked the effect. I decided to hold onto it. What works for some doesn't always work for others, but that one worked well for me. It got me off my own back and helped me to allow that human beings learn as they go along. I may not agree with what some choose to learn, but I don't have to agree. I am also free to open my mind and see where I might be wrong, and not dwell on it, but rather be happy that I can correct myself.

A woman told me, "Opinions are all like belly buttons (she used another word). We all have one." I learned from that to freely express my opinion and to listen to the opinions of others. It seemed a good way to let people get to know how I think and it helped me to get to know how they think. Some have expressed their opinions about me or what I choose to think in the negative and some in the positive. That has let me know where they are "at". The opinion that counts the most to me is mine. I have to live with that one.

I learned from another woman that words have different meanings to different people dependent upon what feeling each one associates with a word. I learned to listen with my eyes as well as my ears. That doesn't help much online, so I laugh often and say, "Well, that didn't work!" My laughter is at life, not at any one person, other than myself at times.

Ah. Communication. I remain impressed that any of us are able to connect and understand one another at any given moment! Since the only safe way to live is to hide in a cave somewhere, I won't be living safely in this lifetime. I'm committed to blundering my way through. I'm also committed to experiencing a lot of joy and my ulterior motive in relating to others is to take as many with me as I can. I can laugh alone, and I do, but it's more fun to laugh with others.

Stepping Out of the Closet

2006-03-20T15:32:00.000-05:00

I've been reading a book entitled Quantum Philosophy by Roland Omnes. That, of itself, is no big deal, but what I find interesting is that I have no problem understanding it and that I get so caught up in my reading that I nod my head in agreement sometimes and frown at others, as if I were in an actual conversation with someone! Those of us who get emotionally involved with books must be comic to watch. When I was raising my children I used to keep a stack of books on the bed beside me and made the statement often that I had slept with some of the finest minds in the world. Now I take them to lunch with me when I go out. The closet philosopher has left her closet!

I'm convinced that the reason philosophers write so much is that most people aren't the least bit interested in asking us what we are thinking, because if they do we gladly talk for hours! We love to think! (I pause to count the exclamation points and laugh at myself. Yes, this stuff does excite me.)

Having accepted that I am little more than a nerd with a sense of humor, I challenge myself to become more. What does one do to become more than a nerd? She trains to become a geek. Is there anything better? I don't know. I'm only in training at present. I joined a site online (Tech Republic) where very intelligent professionals congregate and share their knowledge. No one has kicked me out as yet. I guess reading doesn't make a lot of noise, so perhaps most don't know that I am there. I've dared to hit the keys, though, and posted a few things. Yet, still, when I sign on my membership is intact. I have hope.

Grandma Moses Is My Mentor

2006-03-07T22:42:00.000-05:00

Some of us are late bloomers. Since I'm a believer in happy endings, that's just fine with me. If I had joined a track team, I would have gone for cross country racing. I'm here for the long haul. Having been born with the common sense of a flea, it took me a while to know that there was even a clue to get, let alone get one. I was born a bit brighter than the average apricot, but thicker than a rain forest, so it's taken some time to clear a path and to get out of my own way. The good news is: those who follow behind me won't have as much work to do! I gladly record my blunders, grateful to know that I was wrong. I've found that all I have to do when I am wrong is to turn around and do the opposite. It works every time.I was told that wisdom comes from learning from our mistakes. Having made more than most, I have a wealth of information to draw conclusions from. Walking now on firmer ground, with my feet set free of the undergrowth, I have decided that I will walk through life from here on. I danced the cha cha a lot in my youth (three steps forward, two steps back) and it got me slowly to where I am now. Walking now looks like a better option. It's not as tiring (at my age that needs some consideration) and no matter how slowly I go I seem to be gaining ground more rapidly than in my past. Could it be...? Dare I hope...? Common Sense?

Eternal Hug

2006-03-01T21:25:00.000-05:00

There are some in life who make it up as they go along. They are the crazy makers. They believe in the “art” of embellishment, for simple truth doesn’t cast a fine enough light on their egos, or so they think.

I used to wonder why crazy makers existed, but as time has passed I have found that they serve a great purpose. They challenge those of us who love the truth to search our souls and thus find God. Without them we might go through life with no sense of a Greater Reality.

Honoring ego is not the purpose of life. Love is the purpose of life. We were created by Love to learn to become one with Love. We need only enough ego to form a sense of identity so that when we say I love you, there is an I to offer from. We were not created to stand in one another’s shadows, but rather to share the light of truth one with another.

Truth needs no embellishment. It has nothing to hide. Truth cause us each to see that we are as gains of sand in the magnitude of the universe, yet each grain is as well loved as if it was all that existed. With truth we experience awe, and reach to the Great Unknown with arms open, assured of a most loving embrace.

Write now! Right now!

2006-02-26T10:37:00.000-05:00

In answer to Elizabeth Bear's challenge here is the first poem I ever wrote.

Cars are like stars,

They travel all about.

When they go too fast,

You'll hear people shout:

"Slow down, you bum,

You dirty scum.

You'll hit me if you don't!

And if you do, I'll tell on you,

And don't you think I won't!"

That was written in a seventh grade social studies class, and was the cause of receiving after school detention for the first time in my student career. Ah, the price we must pay to become "great" poets. Suffering for the art is one thing, but suffering because of it, is quite another. Consider this: If I had done the same thing in my English class I might have received extra credit that day! Timing, Folks; it's all a matter of timing.

That was in 1959. If the timing isn't right now for writing/poetry, perhaps I ought to have studied plumbing!

Xenoloveitup

2006-02-25T23:20:00.000-05:00

"All of us are born with a set of instinctive fears--of falling, of the dark, of lobsters, of falling on lobsters in the dark, or speaking before a Rotary Club, and of the words "Some Assembly Required."---- Dave Barry

I loved this and had to put it somewhere that I would keep tripping over it. This looks like as good a place as any! This is certainly food for thought. Someone hand me a bib and a nutcracker please.

I came upon this quote in the course of surfing after running a search on the word xenophobia. A friend used that word in an email today..so off I went. After reading the definition I decided that I am a xenoloveitup. I doubt that word will be found if you run a search, unless it brings you right back to this page.

A xenophobic is someone who has a fear of anything or anyone strange or foreign. It can also be hatred of what or who is foreign; at least that's my understanding of the word. Loosely translated it's called fear of the unknown. Fear of diversity. Fear of self. That's right. Fear of self. When we are afraid of someone or something we don't know anything about, it's ourselves we are frightened of. We don't know how to respond, so we react.

Walking into the unknown brings an instinct of fear to any of us. We call that anxiety. Anxiety occurs because our egos speak up to say, "Hold it! I don't know this! This is new to me! I don't now how to deal with this!" Anxiety is an emotional and somewhat physical response. It passes if we allow it to. Egos, when they are undisciplined, can keep us bound to a very tiny life, centered in what we know and are comfortable with. Egos are not very bright. In fact, I would dare to say they are stupid at times, for my definition of stupidity is the unwillingess to learn.

My ego is my sense of I. To allow myself to learn something new, part of my existing I has to give up the ghost. Learning changes the way I think and the way I perceive myself and life around me. Taking my I too seriously only keeps me down. There's nowhere to fall from down. It's a safe place, well lit by my light of "reason" where I can justify just about anything.

Anxiety will cause me to hesitate at times, but faith tends to remind me that it's temporary, so I sit quietly and let it pass. Then I am better able to turn off my light of reason, grab my nutcracker and bib, and hop right over the edge of the cliff into the unknown.

Heat up some butter, Folks! I'm going in! And I'll be back with some goodies to share! (Does anyone know the mating call for a lobster?)

Behind Closed Doors

2006-02-24T14:28:00.000-05:00

The Unplanned Life

While living my life one day at a time
Not knowing what each day will bring
There are moments of sorrow that runs very deep
But most often events make me sing

The blessings that come are too many to count
'Though life’s trials may test me with fire
I strengthen each day as experience comes
For to follow God’s will I aspire

As grace I pursue through times rough or sweet
I’m sure that my Lord laughs with glee
For it’s grace that has caused me to want what I do
And it’s grace that has pursued me!

That's what is written on the note on my door.

A minister once said to me, "You are an Intuitive (spelled with a capital I). What works for others won't work for you, and what works for you won't work for most others. "

Ain't that the truth! One of my favorite expressions as I relate stories from my life is, "Children, don't try this at home!"

The spiritual life is not for the weak of heart. I was drafted and now I'm a lifer. I live with my feet firmly planted in mid air. It's the only way to fly!

Just Say No!

2006-02-23T11:44:00.000-05:00

lessons in what love isn’t
fall on deaf ears
dance before blind eyes
reach to grab air

love has it’s way with me

A Dash of Salt

2006-02-20T09:13:00.000-05:00

I found a site online that was interesting and then found that the man who created it was born on the same day I was. The differences in us prove to me that free will has a great deal to do with one’s life. You can hand two people the same materials to work with and they will each make something different from them.

What I like about astrology is that it gives me some answers about my basic make up that causes me to say, “So that’s why!” I don’t like predicting futures or a lot of the other stuff. I simply like to have something to help me to look inward to see what I have to work with and where some of the glitches might be.

From time to time I explore things astrologically, but then I set that all aside again. I use it as others use salt. A little enhances flavor. A lot can make you very ill and lead to complications that could be deadly.

I think of life as a patchwork quilt or an Irish stew…a little bit of this, a little bit of that and something beautiful or delicious can come from it all.

Why Not?

2006-02-18T09:22:00.000-05:00

When I want to try something new, or something that others might not think will work well, I ask myself "Why not?" If I can't give myself a good strong reason not to do something, I go forward to try doing it. The word impossible doesn't work well for me. "It hasn't seemed possible thus far," is as close as I can get to that. Admittedly, I have done a number of foolish things in the course of my life, and not everything I have tried has worked out the way I would have liked. Sometimes failure is my answer to "Why not?" I don't stand on the spot crying a lot. My attitude has been, "Well, that certainly doesn't work for me!"

My philosophy of life can be summarized in one sentence: "When the known isn't acceptable, try a hitherto unknown." If nothing else, that philosophy has given me a resume of life experience that says, "Been there. Done that!" about a lot of things. I've been an exceptionally bright, but decidedly "thick" person most of my life. You can tell me what to do and how to do it, and I enjoy listening, but until I have done it myself, I just don't "get it". I credit God with the fact that I didn't try to jump off the roof of my parents' home when I was a child in order to see if I could fly. I think that's simply because I didn't have any great desire to fly. Some people are born with common sense. The rest of us learn through sometimes painful experience. Pain passes. Learning is possible. I share The Blunders of Beth freely with anyone who has a real interest and might be able to learn through hearing. I hug the rest and help to dry a lot of tears. Those are the people that I laugh with the most. Surviving our own foolishness is cause for laughter.

They Lied to Me!!

2006-02-16T21:13:00.000-05:00

I spoke to a nurse today who kept staring at me after she asked my age (59 in a couple of weeks) and promptly went into shock when I stepped on the scales and weighed 30 pounds more than she had guessed. I keep trying to tell people that I am a spirit having a physical experience of life, rather than a physical being who occasionally has a spiritual experience, so I've decided that people tend to see my young and light soul, rather than the aging cookie-stuffed carcass that I walk around in. When I am complimented on my hair color I reply, "For four dollars a month, we can be twins." I do exaggerate. (Sometimes the shade I use goes on sale for 2/$5.) When asked if I am Irish I reply, "That, too, as well as German, English and Native American (Penobscot)." I dare anyone to get this hair to curl! I've been asked to leave hair salons by the back door and had one stylist cry real tears when he tried to give me a short haircut, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I explained to the poor man that it was only hair and it would grow back in. How was he to know that it wanted to grow straight up and out? A rose by any other name may indeed be a rose, but I looked more like a red dandelion. That was 20 years ago when it was thicker and punk was in, so I got away with it until it grew. I was the Cowlick Kid as a child. Age has been kind to me. My face fell into a nice position. I like crows' feet. (Crow Medicine means to answer to a higher authority, and my God laughs with me.)Last year I spent some time with a man who was younger than my daughter, and at a point when I was annoyed with him I said, "You want to know what I will look like in my old age? You are looking at it!" He was six foot four and I am five foot three. I said,"There isn't a man alive who has the right to talk down to me!" He got the message. Respect. It's an old fashioned word often misused. It means a healthy fear of loss. What we respect we treat well.

My father used to call me feisty. I thought it was a compliment that meant I was honest and out spoken. I don't think that's what he meant, but in his old age, he was glad that I was who I was. When I ride shot gun, the stage arrives on time.

My mother told me that no one changes after thirty. Others told me it's all down hill after fifty. Doctors told me that I would never conceive children. After my daughter was born they said all babies are miracles, but her birth was even more of a miracle than most because it was impossible for me to conceive. I enjoyed telling that story to my son who was born eight years later. Doctors told me in 1966 that I would be blind in ten years if I didn't have an operation, which I elected not to have. My eyesight has improved dramatically as I have aged. After surgery for cancer a young doctor hollered, "This is not possible!" I had six months healthy tissue in six weeks. For most of my life I've heard, "You can't say that! You can't do that!"

They lied to me. I can and I do. Life is an adventure.

That's a little of who I am. Come back again. I've been around for years. That's just a tiny tip of the iceberg!