Our Stories

Last night Ant and I watched "Australia" together, a stunning movie with a story so full of depth and beauty one can get lost in it's sweeping scenes and complex characters. So seldom do epic movies like this come out. I don't know why that is, but we thirst for them always. One line in the movie struck me more than others.

In the end, all you really own is your story. ~The Drover

The Australian Aborigines base their lives on their stories and dreams, and how rich is that? Truly we could learn from them. Another quote I love is:

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath

Fox Visitor!

I was just closing the curtains in our living room, and one of these beauties walked right up on our back deck straight towards me with me standing dead still, came within inches of me on the other side of the glass and pranced off the deck to the left right next to the house and into our bushes then under the wood fence. Cool! I grabbed my camera and went outside but he was long gone. Lots of woods and a marsh around us. Took this picture off the net with permission, someone else had one around their house and took it. Cool!

Fear of Frenzied Blooming

Much added here since first posting.

I don't know what to do with myself..was too heavy for so long. My son said last spring, about a year ago, "Mom, you've been fat for twenty years". He wasn't being cruel, as we were laughing and joking with each other, so in that context, it was really funny! I always felt that my weighty condition was a sort of new phase and it was on it's way out the door always. I had never really looked at it's longevity. Hmmmm. So I started saying that, " I've been fat for twenty years" and it sank in...wasn't depressed about it..just amazed. The rest of the story I have already blogged about so I won't go there again, but now I am a small size 12 and I don't know what to do with myself.

I always thought on some inner level that the weight was a cushion between me and the world, afraid of my own power when I had been skinny and all the trouble it helped to get me into. Life's bumps had made me fearful and so I drew back into myself. Now, I feel more vulnerable and thin skinned, like I am almost too flimsy and crushable, the world too close in around me. No wonder I put on that safe coat of fat. Grrrr. Now, I am reconstructing a life trying to bring into sync my crazy fun inner self with my outer world. I have a smallish outer world...not really so small now that I think on it. First, communicating with my daughter, daughter-in-law and son surely brings so much richness. My vintage treasure hunt is a daily obsession where I run into like-minded acquaintances, then creative photo shoots, refining photos in Photoshop and listing on line. I am working on my new Vintage Lucy site with my daughter, getting it ready to launch soon....There is the packing and shipping, which I take great care with, then the post office where all the clerks know me and we chat about our daily lives. The book store is a favorite, another endless treasure hunt there, books, movies and music are three of my passions...and the grocery, forever finding new sumptuous no-fat delicacies. I take walks every morning, and feed squirrels and birds. The critters see me and they run towards me. The neighbors get a kick out of that! I have friends I have met over the net through my business..Chris in Australia...we have been writing back and forth for years now, sharing family joys and sorrows. New family members and old friends found through Facebook are emailing...taking a break from Facebook right now. I needed a break. There are a couple of old friends I talk with and see occasionally. I have started painting again. That's a biggy! And...there is this intimate little blog, where I am attempting to share my life's journey! Just last week I started networking with local meet-up groups, and if I am not too shy I will follow through and maybe meet some new friends.

Now that my kids are grown and off doing their thing, one still at home but gone most of the time, I am alone with myself, and that is fun and I do enjoy it...I have my birds to talk to. I have had groups of friends before, some that stopped by often, just walking in the door and hung out doing their thing while I worked in the studio creating my jewelry...sometimes they sat with me and we jabbered. I do miss that and I guess that is what I am looking for. That would bring things into sync! I don't miss the arguing with spouses that felt me too happy and accused me of not fulfilling their needs, as they weren't happy. I don't miss that at all, and will certainly never go their again. I love being able to come and go to and from a happy home, to decide what I will do at any given time, make muffins, work, watch a movie, and when my son is home I must consider what he is doing. But...he is my darling son and I will do that for him. He makes no demands on me and never accuses me of not taking him into consideration, and he is considerate of me as well. It is symbiotic and quite enjoyable as we banter back and forth with each other, saying I love you, have a good day, be careful and things like that. making fun of each other and laughing about our inconsistencies, quirks and seeming inabilities to bring about the changes we so desire in our lives. Our final parting comment is usually, "you can't help stupid"...and we do see the stupidity in ourselves. Ha! What's a human to do, but continue on and be forgiving of one's self, every day all day long, and hold your head up high and try to move forward.

So, I don't know just yet what to do with myself, but I am meet for the task and sure I will find my way, if I can just calm down enough to apply me to it all. Complimenting the rich life I have with new characters, creating the spirit/physical balance I am so on fire to find. Funny how writing enlightens the self (Ari says blogging makes inner thoughts, so easily lost in our minds, more real...creating through publishing an urgency of action)...now I can see more clearly just how very full and rich my life is. The only thing I am lacking is close physical friendship. Friends like Chris, only near by...not tucked away down-under in far off Australia where I can't spend precious moments in her actual presence. I love emailing with her back and forth...but how special would it be if she were close by? My son is skeptical, as he says I am too unique, but Chris says she doesn't see it that way. She says the best of friends can be quite different from each other, so I am hopeful. Now I just have to get out the door! I am bursting like a flower in bloom in a very fast time lapse movie, and feel like if I am not careful all of my petals with just fly off into a crazy outward frenzy and I'll be a shattered stem bedraggled and wilted wondering what the hell happened!

Darkness Softens

Maybe I could do better someplace else,
maybe someplace other....
The early night time beckons,
showing things unfelt,
during daytime hours,
so brash and unrelenting.
Glorious night time,
Everything softens,
shadows are long and sweet.
Maybe I could do better,
if I weren't me,
like I find myself,
forever struggling,
When there is no need.
Why is that?

The Holocaust in Over by Avraham Burg, a review

I haven't read this book yet, but I did see him on PBS and I will definitely purchase a copy my next trip to the book store. Avraham Burg is brilliant, and I thought of this book after a comment left by an anonymous someone to one of my posts about what is going on in Israel...so here is a bit of it, with a link to the total review.
Book Review: ‘The Holocaust is over’
Monday, 22 December 2008
By John Mearsheimer

For American readers, the great virtue of Avraham Burg’s important new book is that he says things about Israel and the Jewish people that are hardly ever heard in mainstream discourse in the United States. It is hard to believe how stunted and biased the coverage of Israel is in the American media, not to mention the extent to which our politicians have perfected the art of pandering to the Jewish state. The situation got so bad in the recent presidential campaign that journalists Jeffrey Goldberg and Shmuel Rosner—both staunch defenders of Israel—wrote pieces titled “Enough about Israel Already”.
Let’s hope that The Holocaust is Over is widely read and discussed, because it makes arguments that need to be heard and considered by Americans of all persuasions, but especially by those who feel a deep attachment to Israel. The fact that Burg wrote this book also matters greatly. He cannot be easily dismissed as a self-hating Jew or a crank, as he comes from a prominent Israeli family and has been deeply involved in mainstream Israeli politics for much of his adult life. Moreover, he clearly loves Israel.
Burg makes many smart points in his book, but I would like to focus on what I take to be his central arguments. His core message is that Israel is in serious trouble at home and there is good reason to think that things could go horribly wrong in the future. He emphasizes that Israel has changed greatly since 1948. He quotes his mother on this point: “This country is not the country that we built. We founded a different country in 1948, but I don’t know where it’s disappeared.” Israel today, he writes, “is frighteningly similar to the countries we never wanted to resemble.” Talking about Israel’s shift to the right over time, he makes the eye-popping observation that “Jews and Israelis have become thugs”.

Just another day

I woke up this morning with sparks firing in my brain, like at the end of a live wire severed in an electrical storm, flipping wildly about in the street, stopping traffic and killing service to hundreds of homes. I tried to return to sleep but could not, thus here am I. "Write. write", the inner voice said, so I will write. I do feel so very blessed to be on Earth for yet another day. I have noticed as I go about my daily things, so unimportant really, little tasks, supplying the refrigerator, stocking the cupboards, paying bills and seeking vintage, always and forever seeking vintage, that I feel like "Wow, I am a part of this! I get to dance in this dance and play with all of these folks, animals, trees and rocks. Good God, how special is that?!" I have fed the squirrels, the rascally fellows, and the birds, and turned on the indoor light by the finch habitat. The looping video of the California coastline waves and wildlife is doing it's thing creating magic, if set at just the right volume, of transporting me to the mornings I woke up from sweetest slumber on the screened in porch of my grandmothers cabin at Spirit Lake Iowa, where I was gifted to go for only two weeks a year during my somewhat sad childhood. Those times are for another story, to be told at a later date. I did not feel this way for so long after Gannon's passing, so the feeling is very profound to me now. I used to wake with an extreme sense or foreboding that, I suppose, only a mother who has lost a child or experienced some great life trauma can know.

The mind is a treasury of memories waiting patiently to be tapped. I have the coziest bed, fluffy pillows and layers of warm vintage blankets and Morgan, my plush stuffed dog. I pray often for those not gifted with the same...always feeling that no matter how the day goes, I have this to return to....warm sweet coziness and safety. Around my bed are pictures given by my children and freinds, the Eiffel Tower in the 50s from Ant, a downtown mural by Ari, a Mexican religious scenic mini-cabinet from Shira, an antique elephant bank from Gannon... many things that matter just to me...a photograph of an eclipse of the moon from 1938 and a little shelf where I keep books in favor at the moment, a cabinet with a door showing a dragon scene burned into it by Ari...a card Ant gave me full of loving words, a book of amazing Australian scenes from Chris...just two walls for me, my sweet corner, with the other two walls hung gloriously in vintage, the trappings of my life, waiting for my further attention. Beckoning, but not in a mean way...just there, waiting patiently for me to photograph them and put them in the spotlight where they will be in their glory for a few days to months, looked upon as possible cherished things, too enticing to let slip by....Do you suppose that they have a secret knowledge, at least on a molecular level, of their true longing for that station? We thinking they are just inanimate objects, these draping cloth fabrics fashioned years ago, worn maybe once or many times, by those that have passed from Earth's rich experiences. How can anyone not be attracted to owning and wearing them yet another time? I go out into the hall, outside my bed chamber, and there be shelves filled with yet more vintage beauties. To the right is my vintage studio, with shelves on all sides and my mannequin, sweet friend that she is, forever waiting for my trans formative talents bringing her to life on the internet, different hair styles and poses with all the lovelies presented so perfectly on her. Do the atoms dancing in her structure not delight in their small part, lovingly showing the glory of times gone by? I take a break and feed the squirrels nuts on the deck...listening to Rosie next door talking skittish Spanish to a friend on the phone. She likes to sweetly sing as she does her mothering homemaker tasks. Birds are singing inside and out. I come back to write more, and the birds, the parakeets dive at me as I touch my fingers to the keys. Down the hall further, as I traversed the distance from my bed, my son, Ant, sleeping late as it is his day off. Then the bathroom with framed antique photos of the sea shore and Mexican gourd masks on the walls....on to the stairs that brought me down to the main floor and my best friend computer where I spend half of my waking life, generating the sustenance that maintains this all. Can it be so? Ant is awake now, laying himself languorously upon the couch, the movie "Dejavu" playing, replacing my ocean charisma. What magic is this all? How can I be so blessed?

Which crazy bitch am I?

Lynn completed the quiz "Which crazy bitch are you?"

You are one fierce bitch. You are very independent and will take no bullshit from anyone but your personality is actually sort of quiet and shy. You are a natural beauty and you are very comfortable with your femininity. You don't feel the need to overdo it or go out of your way to fuss over your looks. You don't want to distract people from what you stand for and the talents you possess. You are very idealistic and will go to any extremes to stand up for what you believe in even if it creates controversy and people don't understand. Relationships can be hard for you sometimes because men feel threatened by you but time again they come running to you and realize that you are actually very sweet and motherly....until they cross you.
Very flattering and right on...but I don't turn into a psycho when crossed, I just disappear very very fast! I think I like it.

A Happy Mother's Day

I had a mother's day once that sucked and has plagued me for years. Gannon was calling me incessantly from detox. He was drugged, as they do that to them there, while they bring them down. He was a mess crying out for me all slushy and frightened. By late afternoon I was so destroyed, I finally had to turn off my phone, which was like stabbing him. What the fuck kinda Mother's day was that? I have never been good at tough love when it comes to my kids, though he told me later, that when I did tough love him, it was a good thing. There is a time for tough love to end, and that time did come. I brought him home here to live, and although it was very rough going there were so many good times to cherish when he was doing well, and I am thankful for them, so very thankful. I know I have said lots of this before...you get it raw as it comes to mind, so please forgive the repetition. Now, today, six years after that Mother's Day and four and a half years after his passing I am bound and determined to have a happy Mother's Day, for I have healed enough. One of the cards sent to me when he passed, said, I hope you find the strength to be brave and continue on without him. It is okay now, I feel so good knowing he is finally safe in the arms of the kind, all pervading love of the Universe, that thing we all call God, that which is all of us together, embodied and not. I feel Gannon around me sometimes, though I know he is busy. I feel connected to him and know that though presently we are in different dimensions, we are not far from each other, and will be in each other's close presence soon enough, so I am brave and going on. I know he would want that, as my children with me still, want also. I can look at his picture now and feel no pain, just sweet missing and lots of love. That is a good thing, don't you think?

My daughter wrote in an email to me a couple of days ago,"i was talking about you the other day to some friends and said i thought you were having the opposite of a mid-life crisis - you're having like a midlife catharsis!" And I thought, Yes! We did it all backwards, but we did it! I wrote her back saying,"I think that is why I am feeling so spatial and being me...we’ve never all been okay before. That’s pretty weird...most families start out okay then go through shit. We did it the other way round. We did the shit first, then are growing to be okay". Then she wrote, "exactly! that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. i think we're very strong. That's why i always say i have no regrets and wouldn't change a thing. i am who i am because of my experience. i know way more about a lot of heavy shit than a lot of more sheltered people i know - and that's not bad, it's a good thing, having that knowledge and strength.
i love you!!ari :) ."

Life goes on. Sounds trite, but it is true. A new Mother's Day, a fun Mother's Day, full of warmth and thankfulness for such a rich, exquisitely bumpy life, never boring always amazing. I now feel the wonder of it as I never have before. Ant and I are watching "Walk The Line", Johnny Cash's victory over Heroin and addiction, a happy story in the end. It is good to know some do make it through, even though far too few.

Okay, I'm outa here for now...off to make Mother's Day berry muffins and prepare strawberries for shortcake, all fat free and so yummy you wouldn't believe it! Keep on truckin' you Mom's out there!

next day: It was a wonderful day! I made the muffins and the short cake, a big salad, baked potato pieces glossed with olive oil. Ant and I watched movies together and I didn't work on vintage at all, or even think about it...no work some days can be revitalizing. Bravo! I did it! A Good Mother's Day!

Old Love Letters

C.S. Lewis said: "We read to know we are not alone."
What about all the digital blogs and Facebook, Twitter and MySpace pages? Won't it be strange when the people that are writing them are all gone from this Earth? Like so many of the books now left to us? it's all so new now, so recent...but it won't always be so. It will be part of the Earth's heritage, and those that are left will be able to piece together all the parts, creating some kind of cohesive picture of what was, cross referencing it all...it will blow their minds, or maybe it will be common place to them by then...who was writing what when about the same things, how many were affected by events, stories and books. Cyberspace is it's own huge world, blossoming outward from our inner thoughts, leaving traces that will never be forgotten.

I have a large shoe box of hand written letters Mom gave to me, still with the original tie she placed around the box (I replaced the box tastefully as the old one had fallen apart), inside an old dried corsage, bits and pieces of sweet memories, folded brittle pages of love's dearest thoughts carefully placed in envelopes that traveled thousands of miles over war torn seas, sent between my parents when Dad was on the first Enterprise in WWII, obsolete communications, no digital traces there. Where should they be? Where will they find their home? Cherished written words in real ink on paper...no digital life. Writing words is trans formative...as I write my feelings grow fonder of them, and I forget why I am mad, my sad feelings fall away, like dust brushed from a shiny surface waiting to be released into the sun's reflections once again.

Memories like jealous children

I was just writing to a long lost friend and lover, who has found me through Facebook, of all the places and experiences I want to write about...and here it is in a rough form, taken from that email. I may revise this post as time goes on and will use it as a sort of outline for future writing:

My travels inspired by an innate need to eat up life as fast as I could, plus the added bonus of being my own rep, selling my hand crafted jewelry to galleries and at juried shows allowed me long periods of time in Minneapolis, Rochester(born and raised there), Gaylord on the flat desolate plains and many other places in Minnesota, Fargo, ND, the Badlands in South Dakota, Wyoming (the desert and the great rolling hills with their herds of free running antelope, the Detroit ghettos, NYC, Boston, Portland and Gloucester in Maine and the Maine coast..... Lakeland, Denver, Boulder, Vail, camped in the Rockies at Aspen, all in Colorado....Pittsburgh, Rochester and Ithaca, NY, Chicago, St. Louise, New Orleans French Quarter and the gulf coast, Peoria....Key West, Sanibel Island, Orlando, and so many other fun places in Florida, like the Everglades.....lived outside of River Falls, Wisc on a farm with no phone, heating with only the wood we hand cut and chopped, Sarasota and extreme Miami (hanging in the glamorous city, Coconut Grove, Little Cuba, and the black ghetto), Ptown and Wellfleet on Cape Cod (when the Aids Epidemic was just starting and had no name yet), Northampton, Ma. (where I am now), Fayetteville, NC and on a commune in Northern Mn. and in bizarre Bemidgi, hung with the Kingbird family on the Red Lake Indian Reservation and shared Powwow drum times with them while living there, visited family on the Cherokee Res in NC ....so many artists and intense folks living full Bohemian, quirky lives in many of those places, so rich and amazing. Funny how one runs into old weird friends who travel between some of those towns/cities, enclaves of rapid moving thoughts and artists. My kids are steeped in it...through me and/or on their own (Ari has traveled overseas extensively), being exposed to all kinds of people and thoughts from all over the world, though I haven't been out of the states. A friend once told me that I have covered more ground than most Europeans do in a lifetime..but I still hope to travel over seas! I have so much to write about...A life unwritten is lost and unshared. I know how I treasure books. I always am reading and my life is so much the richer for experiencing what others have been though and their thoughts on it all...if I keep writing just maybe I can cover most of it. Funny thing though, as one writes, more memories come to mind, bubbling to the surface, waiting to be acknowledged and attended to, like jealous children. "Do me now!" "No, me!" How does one work them all in?