I entered the world with a heart unfinished. My heart became whole soon enough for the darkness of the world to brake it. God puts it back togehter prayer by prayer. My Savior, Jesus Christ, loves me and my tribulations teach me to love others. Pain creates a choice do you retaliate and spread more pain or do you treasure others as yourself and wish to save others from pain. I choose the latter of the two.
I am a Creator made in the image of the Great Creator. His art is found through all seven senses: sun, moon, ocean, mountain and sky. God’s crowning creation and our’s is our children. I versify about the diversity of people, as different as the colors of the rainbow. Mortality is a prism showing us the variety, separating us from the truth that we are all God’s children and shine with His pure light. We must choose to show eachother that the Savior Jesus Christ is the brightest hope to unify and respect the rainbow of God’s creations.
There is an eternal companion for me. One who can deliver the punchlines to my jokes. He will do his best to protect me from the ills fo the world. We will qoute movies, dance, sing, laugh, teach, climb, work, dream and pray together. We will create a family. That family will love, savor, and appreciate life as God’s gift to his creations !
Ask me sometime about the two extra senses I count along side the five that are considered stadard.
My mind and heart are full of both joy and pain. Funnily, I typed “paint” the first time rather than “pain.” I suppose paint is usually in there too. Back from that tangent, I am worried about my PR. I am not very good at getting myself heard by the public. I need to learn how to communicate more effectively.
Communication is an odd concept if we consider how few absolutes language has and yet we claim to understand one another. Thinking of communication always leads me to think of the differences between men and women where communication is concerned. Then, that leads me to an idea I had earlier this week.
The idea that my lust or simple attraction seems to get in the way of sincerely appreciating a guy. Wanting something from him negates truly liking him, because I like the idea of a hot-blooded male. I’m betting it is what guys and surely other girls deal with. I think musicians and artists have the problem too. A person loves what you create and it negates them really loving you, because your talent talks so loud other parts of you get drowned out in the fanfare.
Sickly I find comfort in my obesity because it drowns out my singing and art, so then when a guy is interested I fool myself into thinking they like me for bit of everything. My guy friend blew that out of the water the other day by suggesting, maybe those guys just like fat chicks.
I suppose the real solution is the challenge of personal honesty. Just because you want to kiss them doesn’t mean that your values meet somewhere in the middle. Just because you want them physically does not mean that you could cope with character flaws just to FEEL something.
Honestly I want more than physical affection, but that is a pressing issue. I’m certain I am not alone in this. The trick is that I want someone I can support in their goals and beliefs who in turn feels they can support mine. Which means finding someone who shares my beliefs.
On the behest of a dear friend I performed a ritual of sorts. I wrote down all the fear and burned them one by one. It felt good. In recent moments where fear or anger threatens to break my peace I’ve come to find that concentrating on my breathing and striving for humility has helped with my decisions. Humility and understanding better who I am are helping.
Lastly I went for a walk the other day, a mile or so. It’s been a while and it felt really good. I wish the snow and cold didn’t make me want to curl up and hide. I know there would be those I’d miss but I want to live somewhere with warmer winters.
Clark trick for short. I dreamed of flying home by way of a smaller plan and met a woman a pilot who is very old now and runs the air field but who once flew some of the very new models. She told great stories and I stayed there at the airfield to hear more of them. Beverly would have suited her for a name, if I heard it during the dream then I don’t remember. I like the name Clark. I don’t really remember many of the details.
The committee for historic conservation agreed to the Lighthouse proposal. Firstly I cannot believe we found the lighthouse in the first place and it is different than some since it is an inland lighthouse on a costal island. the organization now owns the whole of the island as a government trust of course. Most of the students are gone for the holidays. Alex has left for Friendship. He is enjoying seeing both our dreams coming true. The organization has become more than we anticipated. I wonder if he will really move out here. Even Clark and I have our home in Maine. Matt and Tiffany and the kids are enjoying house sitting. I’m not sure I’ll come back witht the next group. It is becoming quite a trial dragging the kids from the states and back. trisha is getting to now the student routines I sure she’d be fine next year. Then again, I hate to pass the torch simply because I’ll miss it. The kids really aught to be put into public school just to acclimatize. Clark I think is sick of not having me around for September or November. Honestly he is silly to think I don’t miss him, of course I do. Doing so much with the organization is hard with the 4 kids and I haven’t told Clark but I think number five might have been triggered last week just before he left. Marco, one of the students has made incredible progress as a person and as an artist I almost hate to see him go back to the states. Back to so much of what is not worthwhile, unsavory. Bummer. Any who, I believe the artist network that was created what seems a life ago will be beautiful help to him keep up the good work. It occurs to me that it would be nice to go home and teach the local school children like I did before I met Clark and before Allen needed me more. Mary is looking good after her surgery and Alex and Melissa are meeting them in Friendship. I wish these lines at airports didn’t feel so tense. I miss my babies. I am going to give up the reins. If we hit six kids we are getting Peter’s tubes tied, or maybe we’ll just be more careful. We’re not really, I don’t like contraceptives. Odd what comes to your mind in a airport. I reach in my bag and pull out my sketch book. Airports really are great places for sketching. Love it. I am tired of flying never thought I’d say that. Or it might just be this summer I had to make this trip three times four after today but it is no longer summer but fall and thanksgiving will be two days after I’m home just enough time to cook. I chuckle. Funny. I like this sketch maybe I’ll do a study of it. Also in recent news the publishers want to do a reprint of the douglas chronicle series. The demographics seem to be buying them on amazon actively this last quarter and the copies are diminishing as we speak and Harold says that the contract is sound and fits with the original for the books. I am happy and Clark says that when I get home and thanksgiving is done we could probably wrap up the latest songs in the studio. I love the idea I haven’t listened to the recordings since August just because I want a fresh look or I guess lesson. The school’s jams and jellies this year were phenomenal. I think the cooking classes are one of my favorite parts sometimes. Then again, it is all rather dream like. I am so conflicted about leaving it in Trisha’s hands. She is plenty capable. Glad I wore these shoes they are easy on and easy off. Today is sweet, to think I graduated at a rough non cum laude spot only 5 years ago. Crazy only 5 it really feels like that. I am the luckiest woman in the world. Or at least so very happy and very grateful. There, I am through the security stuff and waiting at the gate. They’re boarding soon. What else should I mention to you. 20 years since 2012 now. Rose is nearly 18, that seems impossible. She is so beautiful and talented and loving. My five wonderful children are my greatest creations thought he stories and art furniture have been great too. No now they are all grown up and maybe Next year I could go back to italy Neeko is ten he could be okay missing me this next year. Alexander is 16 and being rebellious we just hope he sees the consequences before he needs real up turning things around. Lilly was brilliant with the concert she did in school this year 14. 12 is Trickett. Aurora is my only worry 6 years old what a surprise she was. The doctors decided it was a miracle and Aurora just wanted us for parents and wouldn’t no for answer. She looks so much like he father. Clark maybe not this year but maybe a few more. I could bring Aurora I bet she’d love the italian life at the villa. Well, I shall be ending now.
In the long lazy days of summer we used to sit in the trees above the Charlotte River, Caroline and I. We loved each other, but were not in love with each other. Our love was that of a brother and sister. I wished once or twice that it was otherwise. That kind of love ain’t some thing you force. Neither of us wanted to accept defeat and settle for each other. Today I am glad we never did, because KayKay looks so happy beside Tyler singing and dressed in the rainbow. Or as close to the rainbow as she could make it all. An explosion of color and I don’t think I’ll stay long. She knows I hate the crowds. She held on to me for a while saying thank you. It was a thank you for countless dinners and flavored steamers and broken hearted conversations bound by the gospel. I really lost her months ago when they started what KayKay called their courtship. I have yet to meet someone I feel mutual love and interest in plenty of okay fun but nothing worthwhile. Crazy as ever Tyler and Caroline will probably dance and sing all night and end up actually sleeping their wedding night and making love all the next day. It’s not like they won’t have the rest of their lives to do so. They love performing I stayed as she requested through their performance of 3 Phantom of the Opera songs and many others. I sweep crumbs off the tie dye table clothes and roll my eyes. I think I will leave. The sealing ceremony was beautiful and the reception was fun instead of hoity-toity like most weddings. A party and show. The website had been superb with them both working on it. I envy there happiness and vow that if he breaks her heart I may have to push him down the stairs and call it an accident. Just then though I missed the trees and the cold water of the summers on the Charlotte River and holding her had through yet another of life’s tempests. Whose hand do I hold now ?
The shadows of summer birds hop from branch to skeletal branch. Aviary hobos shifting disheveled feathers in the cold sunrise. They pluck the remaining fleshy, firey fruit from the bones of the tree. Berries striped from limbs and gobbled down throats made long from little heads flung back, the berries disappear. Each morsel looks enough to choke my flitting feathered friends, yet the scavengers continue their feast.
I was reading a friends blog and decided to post within my own. This is not a story or a sprawling concept piece. I simply felt like posting. A few things stuck out to me this morning as I meandered Facebook (Note: Facebook is a time leech, sounds like an episode for Doctor Who: Trans-Galactic Time Leeches.) Off that tangent, a phrase rang true to me – “Never let the odds keep you from doing…” That is a truth I give up recently, I am ashamed. I get too easily discouraged by the chance of failure. I need to change, or return to a mindset I once had to be relentless and that nothing was impossible.
Nothing is impossible, and even if it is that shouldn’t stop me from doing what seems worthwhile. I let the same weaknesses i’ve always had bother me. Why ? I could claim fatigue, burnout, but that sounds a lame excuse to me. Exhausted individuals persevere everyday. Join the ranks ! I can do anything, find anything, create anything, sing anything, paint anything, build anything.
Fear is like a deadly cancer. It’s self replicating and serves no purpose but to destroy it’s host. Like a worm growing filling heart and mind pointlessly destroying capacity. I choose to start removing this disease from my system.
A self-made raw cotton dress. Abby tenderly wraps the gift. Her bare feet find their way down the stairs, past rich wood panelling. She sees herself in a gilded frame. She wonders, “Where’d that come from? I look so beautiful, those colorful ribbons.” Shaking it off she continues her descent.
The stairs end in a grand room full of people. “Maybe this time.” Holding out the gift Abby looks at the boys gathered at the table. The weight of it begins to burn in Abby’s extended arms. She looks away and pulls the gift close to her chest. Some see her, but some stare past her.
Friends pat her on the shoulder and she gets distracted and pulled into a conversation. Soon she is laughing and singing the night away. Following them to the door, Abby waves goodbye to the last of the party goers.
Returning up stairs she comes to that painting and sits down studying it. “It is me, but it is not myself at the same time.” She shifts her dress from where it pinches, “My eyes and my smile, but not me.” Abby stretches and rubs her eyes. Climbing to her feet she gives it one more glance and continues up the stairs.
On the next landing a mirror sits opposite the stairs. She sets down the gift and stares into the mirror pulling at her skin and she studies her reflected features. “Odd that the mirror also feels like me and not me. In some ways I am more like the painting.” She stretches her face in to a silly expression and giggles, leaving the mirror.
Back in her room Abby puts the gift on her vanity table and crawls into bed.”One day we will see each other and see the entire person.”