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Today I was looking for some music from a movie I watched. It was a haunting movie, about someone who dreamt of another life. As I looked over the track titles there was the one called, “The Girl With Two Souls.”
As I sat starting at the title, I felt powerful emotions washing over me, a knowing once sitting deep inside, now captured some words on a page. The girl with two souls, living between two lives, the one she has at her side and the one she feels from the shadows. Neither life is less, both are part of her, yet one calls so strongly, like a call of wild things in the night. It weaves an enchantment around her heart and fills her spirit and soul with something she can find in nothing else.
The journey of her life is a shadow dance, moving in and out of the shadows of her realities, unable to explain what she finds there, but knowing beyond any doubt that it is real. Tonight I will walk in the shadows, calling to me the things that nourish me. Tomorrow as the sun rises I will watch the shadows move on the wall fading as the light fills the room, knowing they will always be there, waiting for me, my shadow dance.
Once again I find myself bestowed with more lovely awards, thanks to Sorrow.
There are times I’m not sure what I am doing to deserve these accolades from friends as I seem to have been milling around in a state of confusion for the past couple of months, not knowing where I was going or grumbling about where I find myself. As I said in my previous post I’m trying to learn to express myself in a true light without returning to the post to soften the edges or delete it entirely. I opened another blog in a move I thought would “set me free.” It has not and though it is lovely looking, I find myself writing in pretty much the same way.
Perhaps this is what I’m supposed to do for now and perhaps those things that sit deep inside me are best left to the pages of a private journal. Still while I grumble and mumble and sort myself out, it’s good to know I have a community of like minded souls who hear me. I also have an array of beautiful, artistic, funny and spiritual blogs to get me through the day and inspire me to become better at this whole writing thing.
Now to pass these along, something I’m terribly remiss at doing. There are so many to choose from.
Mermaid whose blogs are beautiful and soulful and a friend who listens to my insane babblings.
Danielle whose Modern Musings keep us informed and thinking about what needs to be done in this world.
Grace whose blog keeps me inspired.
Missharleyquinn a visitor from the early times going forward, one who understand the ramblings of my heart.
These are just a few of the deserving candidates I can name tonight. Take a look at some of those on my blogroll. It’s a great way to discover some wonderful sites.
I’ve had a quiet few days and have not been able to blog very much. Our household has been flattened by the latest bug and I’m still struggling. Sometimes it takes all the creativity out of a person when you feel like this.
Thanksgiving was quiet and uneventful, something that I appreciated given my run down state. The food was wonderful and all went well. As is usual with us over the holidays, we had some activity in our home on Thanksgiving day. I was upstairs and the dog started barking as if someone had come to visit. When I went downstairs she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking straight ahead, her tail wagging. She stood there for some time, clearly “seeing” someone she knew. Pets are very perceptive and often they pick up things before we do.
This afternoon I was reading a post by a friend who spoke of writing and ranting. She has reached a level with her writing, one I envy. I still struggle with letting go when I write, stopping to soften edges, often deleting posts after I look back at them. We are conditioned through our lives, at least I was, starting when we are small, not to speak our minds. My conditioning carried on for years and now it’s a tough thing to unlearn. Until we learn to speak, the total creativity inside us is held back behind this invisible wall. So I will continue to work on it, but I wonder if I will ever change or if this is who I am and who I will remain after all these years.
The moon has been glorious the past couple of days and this full moon has been very peaceful but filling me with illuminations. Connections with others have been affirmed in the most surprising of ways and things seem to be coming together, at least for the moment. It’s a welcome moment of light.
I pinched this off a friends blog as I thought it was worth sharing.
Above you paint the sky
delicate as maidens hair.
Below, pour a little darkness
heated to room temperature
or slightly more.
With a cat’s claw in the dark
scratch out a little tree,
the finest tree in the world,
finer than any forester
could ever imagine.
And the tree itself
will light up,
and the whole picture purr
with green joy
with purple hope.
Right. But now you must
put under the tree
the
real big thing,
the thing you most want in the world;
the thing pop singers
call happiness.
It’s easy enough for a cat,
a cat will put a mouse there,
Colonel Blimp will line up
the largest jet propelled halberd
which shoots and bangs and salutes,
a sparrow will gather
a few stalks for it’s nest,
master junior clerk will submit
a stuffed file tied with red tape,
a butterfly will put there
a new rubber peacock’s eye,
but what will you put there?
You think and think
till the day grows grey
till the river almost runs out
till even the bulbs begin to yawn
you think
and finally
there in the darkness you blot out
a hazy white spot,
a bit like a florin,
a bit like a ship,
a bit like the Moon,
a bit like the beautiful face
of someone (who?) else,
a hazy white spot,
perhaps more like emptiness,
like the negation of something,
like non-pain,
like non-fear,
like non-worry,
a hazy white spot,
and you go to bed
and say to yourself
yes, now I know how to do it,
yes, now I know,
yes,
next time
I shall paint
the most perfect Christmas tree
that ever was.
Miroslav Holub
Thanksgiving has come and gone though the feeling it brings is still with me. It was peaceful if not a bit understated but really it all worked out fine. It turned out to be just the four of us and it was probably for the best. I managed to turn out a nice meal but I was knocked out by the return of a cold and not worth much else.
In the spirit of the day my youngest and I took the dog for a late walk. Last year it was so nice we walked in cotton attire, an unusual twist for November. This year it was cold and still, the night sky brilliant with the full moon. It was surrounded by a halo of light and it illuminated the trails and walkways. Shining through the tall bare trees. coupled with the dusting of snow on the ground it made a picture worthy of a card.
Sometimes it’s hard to find beauty on a gray November day, but once again it was there in the snowflakes that feel softly and in the moon lighting my path as I walked through the trees toward home.
This evening I was rushing around doing my many preparations for Thanksgiving. I was cranky as I moved through each task, conquering things one by one. My daughter has been quite ill with the latest bug and so was no help, and my youngest was determined to aggravate me as much as possible, complete with locking me out of the house in bare feet.
The sweet potatoes were done, the pie baked, the living room rugs steamed and the laundry pretty much caught up. As I stood in the kitchen chopping things for the stuffing, my personal favorite, I looked out on the deck. There were snowflakes falling quietly in the early darkness of winter. With it came a peace that spread over the house, a feeling that everything would be ok. Things started to fall into place after that and I looked out like a child in wonder at the first snow of the season. I realized what precious time I had as I cooked, talking to my son about this and that, sharing some time together in the warmth of the kitchen.
It’s amazing just when I needed it so badly, that the quiet whispers of the snow found me and with each beautiful snowflake carried all that I needed to hear. I think tonight, when the house is quiet, I might pull a chair out onto the deck and wrapped in warm blankets, sit quietly if just for a moment, under this beautiful sky.
Last night I found my oldest son on Facebook. It was an eerie feeling knowing we are once again not communicating and how much I miss him. My shortcomings as a parent have become his focus and it hurts to much to hear this sort of thing over and over. Still he was my favorite when he was a boy and I miss him terribly. This evening I received this from someone who has experienced some of the same things. I thought I’d post it for all of us. There are no guarantees in this life. Our children are our own for but a moment. They may choose to fly away and never return.
Remember Kahlil Gibran’s words
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
My son and I have some of the most interesting discussions. It’s amazing what kids notice when you don’t present it to them first. We were having are usual afternoon chat when he pointed this out. His one friend who has no video games and is not allowed to watch anything with violence of any sort, is the nicest friend he has. Interesting isn’t it? Perhaps all those studies were right.
Don’t get me wrong, I love video games and I’m pretty darn good at some of them. I do not however allow things like Grand Theft Auto into my home and I’m shocked to find little kids playing a game and glorifies violence and killing and devalues women. As adults we are going to have to become the boss again and learn to say no if we ever want society to turn around from the violent greedy place it has become.
That’s my little ditty for the day.
Today while sitting with my son going over the days events, there was a knock at the door. It was a neighbor boy, one I don’t know well but have seen across the street. My son went outside and they chatted for a minute and then the boy left.
He was looking for his sister who sits at my son’s table at lunch. She was due home with a friend and never showed up. The mother had no idea where she was and she and her small son were starting to panic. She had called the police per the son and had not heard a thing. The son came back to our home to get some phone numbers of friends, and through the diligent efforts of this young child, I could sense the state of the mother. It was as if I could feel her fear growing deep within me and the helplessness she was feeling at that very moment.
Kids forget, we did I know. They don’t think about the angst they cause parents. We did it to our parents I’m sure. Still our world is different now and the dangers that await much more prevalent. I have not heard if she is home again and I can only hope she strayed to a friends house and forgot to call home. I feel badly as I’m leaving for work soon. It’s dark now and if the girl is not home the mother’s fears will only grow more intense.
It amazed me how quickly my gut started to hurt after that child knocked at my door. It was as if there was a universal energy among us as mothers that made me want to charge out and find this child. When I was a child a village truly did raise a child, it wasn’t just a cool idea. Everyone looked out for us and everyone watched what we did. If we stepped out of line we answered often to more than just the parent, but we were safe. We have forgotten how to watch out for one another in this busy world. It’s time to start remembering.
Last night for the first time in some days sat up into the wee hours. I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing a bit. As I sat writing I started thinking about angels. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was the music I was listening to, perhaps the mood who knows.
I’ve been fascinated with angels since I was a little girl. They seem to walk on many paths regardless of where you may find your spirituality. Some see them as light, some as forms of energy. I’m sure are many things. For me it works to visualize them in a more classic form. It just works for me. I’m not a religious person, my spirituality coming from the earth around me, but they are a part of things for me. I would have been a terrible student of any divine path as mine is scattered with so many things. I dance to my own drummer and always have. The angels are often guardians for me called to watch over my most important mystical times. They have never failed to be there for me spreading warmth around me.
I think the angels, be they elements, spirits, or part of the energy called in a working, are all around us. Some may see them in visions, some may hear them speak in dreams, or just as a rustle on the wind. Some of them may look just like you and me walking with us through this life in subtle disguise.
I’m not sure why my mind drifted to the angels last night. Perhaps as I sat in the quiet hours of the night they were here with me.
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