Sunday, September 8, 2013

Desire in shadows

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"Red Abstract Backgrounds" by photoraidz at www.freedigitalphotos.net

It was in the shadows
nothing confirmed by words or their ilk
the veil that dropped over chocolate irises
when trying to block the vision of curved waist
through champagne colored silk .

It was in the shadows
the little grimace while turning away
coral tinted lips that broke from a smile
too brief to notice in the insistent glory of summer
except for one who knew how the shadows lay.

The whispered words had been in the shadows of the night
no promises made to stand the strength of day.
Still, desire strong but unprotected without the shadows
was glimpsed in trembling red tipped fingers,
and chocolate eyes that couldn't stay away.


credit - "Red abstract Backgrounds" by photoraidz at www.freedigitalphotos.net


Sunday, June 16, 2013

Stunned or benumbed

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"I'm stunned out of my socks!" Mini-Him's post lunch hyperbole caught my attention. I had rarely used the word "stun" "stunning" or "stunned" at home. After Mini-Him's use though, I guess my eyes were open for the word.

The number of times we're told to be "Stunned" by the media is, frankly, stunning. There are any number of women who are stunning, have stunned or plan to "stun" on the red carpet. Scenery of all kinds race to make top favorites as "the most stunning" and nail and hair can also be, stunning.

I had such a giggle when I read Merriam Webster's online dictionary definition for the word "stun" - (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/stun source)

1 - To make senseless, groggy or dizzy (bwaahahahahhaaaa!!!)

2- To shock with noise (Her gown SCREAMED couture?)

3- To overcome especially with paralyzing astonishment or disbelief... (I cannot believe the foliage is so golden red! I can't move...)

Perhaps we want to convey the wonder we feel. Perhaps we'd rather use few words with our minds running in code/abbreviations. Hmm...stunning in short..."Jenfer Anstn STND on rd crpt". Maybe we're too lazy to search for appropriate terms. I've seen a range of celebrities held up to that "stunning" standard. One's eyes water from more than just precarious necklines.

I can see language spin off a new form of expression. As Esperanto intended, but never did, perhaps this will unite the world.

V WLL B 1...STND 2GTHR.

Abbreviated thought and expression...SHUDDER!!!




Monday, May 6, 2013

Confounding...

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When I hear about possible second earths and alternate universes, it seems ridiculous that I have to study math, physics and chemistry again.

Huh?! you say...

Yes...I do too. Why, when there is so much going on in the world, any number of things that could upend carefully orchestrated plans to complete licensing requirements, do I have to apply my scrambled from two kids brain to studying what I have before. Never mind that I can't remember jack.

I'd envisioned being 35 and having a tangible self. It is the exact opposite now. There is nothing less tangible than my sense of self. I'm sure a lot of new moms/second-fifth-twentieth time moms might feel the same. I don't see it changing in the near future either. It's rather late to be having questions like "Who am I"...and "What am I here for" plague my nights. I thought that useless questioning ended with my teens. Apparently I still have commonalities with my teen years - I'm hormonal and lost.

The good thing is that the weight loss efforts are fruitful. Like my good doctor said, there is a looooong way to go. But there is progress that makes me want to continue working at it.

Baby-him is a busy baby. He cannot sit still. Mini-Him is a mouthy, cute and hyper ten year old who is still given to unsettling insight. His latest being, "Why do I have to study so much...why do I need a degree..just so I can have ONE MORE PERSON BOSS ME AROUND?!"

This was a not so subtle reference to pressure tactics from yours truly. His Math needed attention.

Of course, I couldn't tell him that I was still bossed around at 35. By Baby-Him, by folks at licensing boards and college advisors and Him issuing instructions from far away. No...it's important, even if unrealistic at times, to hold on to hope/illusion that our lives will be unique!

All of it makes me wonder about those alternate universes/earths. What if there are life forms there already? What if we decide to set up home there? Are we going to have an Earth 2 stock exchange? Earth 2 health insurance (valid during brief stays on Earth 1 - certain restrictions apply), are we going to introduce money so people can work all their lives to relax in comfort in an old age made miserable from lack of rest? Are we going to import religious order? Are we going to create one more? And ostracize those who don't follow it?

What are we going to do on a new earth that we don't do here already? More of the same?

How in the name of goodness do we ever step off?

I do love this though...

http://science.time.com/2013/05/05/exoplanets/
photo credit - foto76, freedigitalphotos.net


pic credit - "Two Hand holding young plant on nature background" by foto76, www.freedigitalphotos.net

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Weighting for less

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I have a love hate relationship with the weighing scale. When I get on the glass and steel decider of my weekly fate, my heart very nearly slows to a stop. For an insentient thing, it wields an enormous power over my existence.

Which brings me to my existence.

In the beginning, it appeared to go from reminder to reminder.

Reminder 1 - "You've already had your bread for today. No more!"
Reminder 2 - "You've had it good for so long, now stop dreaming of bread."
Reminder 3 - "Drink some water and no, Mini-Him's jalapeno cheese on Him's ciabatta will not do you any favors."

When did I become such a comfort junkie?! Even as I type out the word "comfort", visions of softly resisting, yeasty, steaming bread run across the projector of my mind. Superimposed on an equally fluffy, doughy me.
It seems the hardest thing to give up. Everything else is alright. I love veggies and can eat them all the time. But allowing myself only those two slices for breakfast in the morning is such cruel punishment for thoughtless indulgence.

Something about chewy comfort of that kind takes me to a safe and warm place. That word again. Safe. Home seems a feeling. A feeling of rightness without surprises. Working on the many layers (excuse the pun) of my weighty self, the most consistent choices are the safest, non-variable and densest ones.

Which brings me to why I would need dense foods to feel...well...safe and good. And grounded. That's really it. It makes me feel like I'm safely anchored to planet earth. Otherwise, I feel like a free floating and very confused spirit. I felt like that, rather, until I began meditating and locating the source of the discomfort.

The very fact of realizing that there was some constant uneasiness went a long way toward easing my cravings. I can't believe it, but this week went by without needing much bread. Just my daily whole grain 2 slices in the morning. The weight quit climbing and the exercise is making a difference. A lot of visualization and self-talk there, but it helped. I haven't talked to myself in ages. Of course I sound cuckoo...maybe I am. But it helps me a great deal.

Also, Pam from http://www.pleemiller.blogspot.com/ is my wonderful inspiration. Her positive outlook makes me think that things are possible this time :-) Hugs to you Pam.

I have this wonderful quote I found while trying to talk/read/boost and scold myself into positivity. Found it at www.quotegarden.com.

Reality check:  you can never, ever, use weight loss to solve problems that are not related to your weight.  At your goal weight or not, you still have to live with yourself and deal with your problems.  You will still have the same husband, the same job, the same kids, and the same life.  Losing weight is not a cure for life.  ~Phillip C. McGraw, The Ultimate Weight Solution: The 7 Keys to Weight Loss Freedom, 2003

That's just what I needed to remind myself of all the things that do matter. And that after the pounds, there's everything that makes it all worthwhile.

A little bit of bread would surely make it better.

Never mind!

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Will weight and see

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I am trying to lose weight. Again.

pic credit : Woman by africa, freedigitalphotos.net
It's not like I've ever stopped and it's not like I've succeeded long term. I've maintained a constant personal range since my late teens. I've only ever overshot it when I had my children, and went really low when I lost weight unhealthily once. That comforting padding took me through many significant moments and many forgettable (but hard to forget) moments in my life. Comforting because, in my mind, that's really me. I've never been anyone else. That one disastrous time I tried, my hair fell out and my teeth developed micro cavities in them. I can safely say that I do not know the person who will weigh just what the health charts recommend as normal. I don't even know if I am ready to meet her.

"But you think that you don't consume a whole lot. Keep a diary and you'll see just how many careless calories go into making that body."

I've heard that so many times. So I did keep a diary for all of three days and quite seriously, I made under 1500 calories. Which can't be healthy. But I don't stuff my face. I have eaten to stuff my feelings when I was younger. And luckily, that practice did not grow old with me. I ascribe it to youthful idiocy. The one thing I cannot do is to exercise every day. Oh I've done it for six months at a stretch. Sooner or later, some little thing throws me off and I never quite get the momentum going again.

My ever insightful sibling said, "Maybe you really don't see yourself as skinny."

Naturally I had to counter with useless self-defense, "That's ridiculous. I've never been skinny. How do I see myself that way? And what does that have to do with weight loss?"

My preposterously skinny sibling said, "Well, what exactly are you going to work toward then? If you haven't given it thought yet, then no wonder you're going no where. You run and jog and stretch and lift away, everyday, with no idea of what you want of your body."

Woefully patting my well padded sides, I declared, "I do know what I want! I want to be HEALTHY!"

Sipping his avocado juice, he took a minute. That usually means that he's attempting niceness which he's straining his "charity chest" to dispense. "You are healthy. You just don't like the way you look, which is, frankly, the biggest problem here."

"Being thirty pounds overweight is not healthy!"

He gave up. But then, I don't have anything major. Yet. I've seen bigger people remain blissfully healthy into old age, and skinny types riddled with health concerns. But the fact really is that I cannot accept the way I look.

Him does mind. I can tell. Well, getting real here, he's told me too. In "Him style" which does involve helping yourself to a heaping tablespoon of salt, while he delivers his thoughts with the tact he imagines he has.

Hmm...snarky there. But he's seen me try and discard numerous clothes because the size on the tag didn't seem to have anything to do with my real proportions. He's seen me absolutely loathe shopping because it is a tedious process for me. I find clothes alright. But not the way I like them.

So what has me so complacent? I wonder and I block that instinctive knowing that we all have. I block it because...

Because I really am terrified of getting there for some reason! I don't understand why anyone would be afraid of reaching a better place.

But then, I did say that I've never been any other way.

I looked up spiritual reasons for obesity. Some of it made sense. The fat padding as an insulation against hurt and more reasons along that vein. I didn't have any serious trauma in my childhood. It was a wonderful childhood. But I was sensitive. Enough that a bit of bad news in the daily paper would render me sleepless for days on end. That sensitivity is certainly an issue. I've spent a lot of time alone, trying to be quiet, surrounding myself with quiet because I just can't take conflict. And high strung types. And anyone spoiling for a good fight. Maybe it is my emotional makeup.

Maybe it's nothing but me needing to get off my behind. But then again, I'm moderately active through the day. It's difficult to be inactive with two kids and a husband in the house.

I tell my mother that she might as well think of my brother and me as "Laurel and Hardy." Because he is that tall and skinny, and while I'm not that short, I'm certainly chubby. I think that sibling Laurel was right. I don't know about where I'm headed. No clear sense of direction save the reducing digits on my weighing machine. That rarely tells the whole story. It does tell the most important part.

I have no idea what she'll be like. That skinny woman I hope to become. I don't know if I can accept her and feel comfortable in her skin. I don't know if I can look in the mirror and know that she and I are one. Even as I write this, I can feel my heart holding back, pulling back from possibilities. I don't understand it.

But perhaps that's part of the challenge. To make it happen and wonder about the why's and wherefores later. To ensure that I reach my slimmer self, and work through the hurt all that fat pads up so nicely. Or the laziness or the indulgence. Just to push through it. And get to the other side.

So yeah, I'm back at it now. A new fangled routine full of the latest in weight loss science, a truckload of quick, metabolism boosting routines, a determination to eat every two-three hours and a miasma of hope and trepidation.

Wish me luck!

Image credit : Woman by africa, www.freedigitalphotos.net;


Wednesday, January 30, 2013

What you couldn't see

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photo credit - www.freedigitalphotos.net
"Sunrise In The Sea With Softwave And Cloudy" by moggara12
I miss the way it used to be.

Memories abound -

Of afternoon sunshine warming our toes. Dust motes cloaked in gold waltzed to a saxophone symphony, somehow wrapping us in musical notes that heightened the sense of blue sky, belonging and love.
Warm breezes drifted laden with roasting, baking, spicy enchantment every time she opened the kitchen doors, anklets ringing an announcement of busy-ness. He, fresh from a shower would waltz into our gilded space, dancing with an imaginary someone, before he grabbed her arms, causing the anklets to tink-tink in time with their steps.

You, in your shorts, persistently skinny, lazed on the gold sofas, scuffed knees over the armrest, toes wiggling in a beam of sun. I watched my life, grateful for moments, certain that you and I would remember it, just so in some distant time. Where distances between you and me could be bridged with memories and shared hope, laughter and the love that existed as surely as the air that we breathe.

I remind myself of this today, when battling the deep sorrow that I fight often, realizing that the love I saw then, would not be enough for you to remember with gladness. That every memory I ever had with you, was only of light and love, and most of your memories, a battle between you and yourself. The love has been enough to take me through harsher times, and for you, there was not that strength to fall back upon, perhaps because you could not see it.

I tell my heart to still, and reassure it. My heart and I know of love, and you, standing in it's midst, could not see it, for it's brightness hurt your eyes.

Perhaps one day, you will wear your shades, and be able to face what we had. Perhaps one day, we'll both see it the same way. Neither yours nor mine.

Soon enough, that you open to those who remain from those times. Time and people, go one way.

I love you and I miss you.

pic credit - <p>Image courtesy of [moggara12] / <a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net" target="_blank">FreeDigitalPhotos.net</a></p>

Saturday, January 19, 2013

What were those moments?

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photocredit : Guardians of the Light by sattva, www.freedigitalphotos.net

What was that moment?
When the heat that lit atmospheric particles to vivid roses and blues
seemed to expand within, saturating cells,
power that didn't hold back seeing as I was an object
in it's path, but rather, that I was the same as the earth
or the roots of trees plugged into the source.

What was that moment?
When her eyes looked at me, like I was someone
someone so separate that her head had to bow,
and her eyes plead while her hand trembled with shame and need?
And the only feeling I had was that the illusion was all too much to bear
A metaphorical curtain, or pseudo civilized rules kept me
from drawing her into a hug and nourishing her as I would myself.

What was that moment?
When his eyes seemed so familiar
almost like a mirror, features somehow dissimilar as day and night,
yet knowledge so old and encompassing shared in a look
felt like souls blending seamlessly and yet,
nothing was ever shared again past that noisy afternoon in the city.

What was that moment?
When the starry sky seemed a ceiling,
too restrictive for truths to be set free
truths that belonged in the endless "absence of light"
and in vast incinerating swirls of energy that would set alight
truth far beyond our first concept of time's beginning.

What were those moments?
Moments that cause barren snow filled swathes
and verdant hills not yet called home,
to feel like props in a play,
people as actors who double as audience in a great
ceaseless play that bares only what we show
and what others think they know.
Moments that seem like they could,
on the formation of a single thought, or utterance of a single word,
zap the play and charade
unraveling what surely must be
right in front of me.
Unravel the truth to set us free...

pic credit - "Guardians of The Light" by sattva, www.freedigitalphotos.net

Saturday, January 5, 2013

locked in

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Cradling every molten, seamless emotion and thought within,
Sunshine fragments on the impregnable fortress
that locks in love hope and fear.
Brittle fear like aging bones that prop a body too heavy, too frail
credit - Tom Curtis, Bamburgh Castle, www.freedigitalphotos.net
Creates a framework for thinking, feeling, doing
life rearranged so that capacity is always a few steps away.

A shade of crimson too radiant to be felt deeply
then diluted in the mind's eye
easier entry into the fortress that disallows boldness
better the memory of the shade than have
cloths of the richest silk caress the skin
cloth in the shade of the boldest crimson.

A glimpse into an answer not easily seen
often followed by a rush of recognition of rarity
soon to be followed by conquering armies in gray
that beat down genius' flame to make way
for the average safe and permissible.

The hitch in the step toward truth
or in the voice raised against wrong
the retreat from the diving board over a sparkling pool
or the souring love that hangs on, festering.

Would that I knew the way out
or better still, the way in to decimate the fortress
leave it crumbling so that the frail body
can heal and live free.

credit - Bamburgh Castle, Tom Curtis, www.freedigitalphotos.net


Thursday, January 3, 2013

Of New Year and persistent violations

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Happy New Year everyone!

By that I mean that I wish you a ton of happiness more than last year.

Happiness that comes from dispelling clouds within, thoughts that form the toughest rope ladders anchored to the sturdiest posts of beliefs that drag us out of the abyss. The abyss that unfortunate people seemed to have fallen into last year, and unable to do any better, dragged a whole bunch of people down under with them.

Other than Mini-baby's birth and the joy around his babyhood, 2012 was a year best left behind. For me. I can't allow myself to feel that extent of helplessness ever again and go about like nothing is wrong with the world.

After that last shooting, I went online to look into mental illness. There seems to be a ton of frightening research that actually questions some very basic treatment approaches. Nothing simple will answer necessary questions. There is so much that is culturally ingrained that to "make it all right", one has to decimate entire belief systems. Most other solutions that we will be compelled to adopt will be half measures. Never enough, but a bandaid nonetheless.

Then there was that unfortunate soul in India who was violated in every way possible. It does come to mind that that level of cruelty is commonplace in many countries, and in varied situations ranging from wars to late night walks. None of the incidents should have been allowed to happen.

Who allows them then? The perpetrators of course. Then comes the very difficult "why"? The wastrels involved in the crime in India actually said that they wanted to "teach the girl a lesson." Judging by the progression of events, it appears that they took offense to her being out at night, with a male friend. There is everything wrong with this scenario. Everything.

They believed that she didn't deserve to be out. If she had been working that late, likely they would have wanted to "impart lessons" then too.

The very foundation of society is shaky. Built on belief systems that are in constant flux. A woman's place is still regulated by uncontrollable urges in a man and tragically, her own physical vulnerability.

I thought about the protests, articles, and the pervasive outrage. Yes, women should be able to do what they want. Yes, they must be able to wear what they want and be where they want to be. Truly, it is the same for every species in the planet. One does not see a tigress or a jilly goat run and cover her femininity. Or refuse to hunt to graze because there are other tigers and billy goats in the vicinity. It's for women that these rules are made. By society. By other women and men. Because they may be helpless while doing something as mundane as walking under starry skies.

We are now hoping for strict laws and the eventual civilization of the entire human species to ensure that women can live with the same sense of safety and well being as men.

There must be laws, for they are the sole deterrent. While there will always be men who rely on coercion and the chance that they won't get caught, still others will keep their privates and dirty minds in check.

credit - freedigitalphotos.net
What's to be done about the civilization bit though? What does one do about rapes that happen during wartime? Simple shows of strength in closed quarters? Economically backward men who think that there is just one way to get even and avenge their lot in life? Still others who use religion and some form of superiority as tools against the weak?

We're roaring forward in many ways. Breaking barriers, testing limits and redefining ourselves every minute of every day. And then, there is a vast population of the earth, that is still left behind, waiting, watching in awe and fear. They have their belief systems, completely out of sync with the rest of the modern world. It struck me when I read that the men wanted to "teach her a lesson." My extreme interpretation of that is that they didn't believe she had a right to her own body.

The people in this instance happened to be from an economic class for whom laws meant little. They made their own laws apparently. That's the majority of the world's population.

There are still others who have more, dress better and don't think twice about violating a body.

This was about a woman. There are children who go through this too.

When one breaks things down, completely, without the props of a civilized life and the facade of normal that we wear on a daily basis, it does come down to an assertion of physical strength.

The light of civilization, it seems, has not lit every dark corner. There are still spaces that remain hidden and out of reach. I suppose this is where violators go to indulge...some manner of understanding known only to them that makes this alright.

It appears that I have no right to expect anything of anyone. Simply because I will never know how many unlit corners another human might possess. I will never know how many lies someone is telling themselves while they imagine their right to my person.

I'm completely hurt and enraged by it all.

We can rely on laws only and our own sense of self preservation to combat danger. There is always the question of, "What if it isn't enough?" A viable question considering the victim in the gruesome rape absolutely tried to defend herself. What could she do against six thugs? She had a male companion too. Apparently that went against them both.

One can't stop living. And it's time to stop referring to women like victims even before they can be hurt. It must certainly contribute to the sense of power a potential rapist feels.

Cavemen dragged women away as and when they pleased. I think that women have evolved a great deal. The men haven't caught up. Not all of them. The caveman lurks. And they want to make the rules. In whole countries no less.

Heaven help.

credit : Image courtesy of worradmu / FreeDigitalPhotos.net"