My Human Condtion

I'm the creative type.  If I'm not "creating" something, or reinventing something, I get restless.  I think this creative outlet is a blessing.  If not for that, I would completely be lost in thoughts.......about life, love, gain and loss. 



 Having children opened a whole new realm of speculation for me.  Believe it or not, my mind turned to death more than I'd like to admit.  Fortunately I'm not the only mother whose mental activities plummeted to such morbid musings.  Chatting with a new mother the other week I confessed about the "death thoughts" thing after becoming a parent.  Her eyes widened  and she said in an almost reassured voice tone, "I KNOW!  YES!"

  I don't think anything touches a heart more than a mother's love.  Love in general is a very extensive subject for me; very intriguing and totally captivating.  I think about it all the time; even when I'm being my creative self .

These last couple of weeks I lovingly restored and redecorated my 1980's oak kitchen cabinets.  It was a long, difficult and tedious procedure, but I enjoyed pretty much every minute of it. The reason is that I have always wanted to surround myself with beauty and things that I love.  I do believe that walls have stories and houses have lives that were part of the previous owners.  I am the future previous owner.  To put love , care and affection into my walls and my space is important to me.  Sitting here on a very, very hot desert summer evening, I look around at the home I've created and feel  peace, joy and gratitude.  Indeed, I am rich.

Isn't it interesting though that there is still a longing?  There is still a desire for something even more beautiful, more satisfying?  My son posted a song on my facebook page; Flume, by Bon Iver.  Included in the post was his note to me; "I love ya ma."  

;

Listening to it I felt something deep inside of me come alive with an almost sad yearning.  Yearning for more time maybe?  I'm not sure, but I know that he was just a little guy about week ago and suddenly he's now a man. What happened?  And can I go back and have another chance at being his mother? 


When I was in my 30's I proudly and superciliously told people that I had no regrets.  HAHAHAH...the last laugh is on me. Regrets? Oh hell yes!  




I have so many!!!  My son was truly wild at heart with a curiosity that couldn't be quenched. He too was creative, pensive and filled with young awe for this world.  And I did so many things wrong.  Firstly I listened to people in my church tell me how to discipline my children.  Big mistake, on so many levels!  The fact that he was around when his father and I were at our worst was tragic and I will always feel horrible for that. 

But enough of maudlin reminiscing.  The fact is, we all have our deep longings, our profound regrets, our aching thoughts of beginning again and getting it right. 


 Right?

In the meantime I don't want to leave you with the idea that I'm unhappy because I'm not.  I am very much in love with my life, I am very much in love with my family, with my dogs, with my home, with everything that I am fortunate enough to be a part of.  So with that, I'll say good night.....

Caged Birds Singing, Human Unkindness, and Meanderings On a Hot Summer Day

The world is blowing up 
The world is caving in 
The world has lost her way again 
But you are here with me 
But you are here with me 
Makes it ok 

These are words to a Dave Matthews song called "Oh"  In an interview, he said these lyrics are to his grandfather who has passed on.  But it's true.  I think so much that the world is blowing up and has lost her way.  It makes me sad;  heavily sad that most of the time I don't realize how it has seeped it's way into my soul and tainted my whole perspective  By that time it almost seems too late to NOT think about how shitty things are.  Then, of course, the whole brain washing thing has to begin again. Washing my brain of all the dirty, mean, horrible thoughts of reality, of people, of death and of meanness " Wow", you may say," she's gone way in over her head".  Yep, indeed I have.



I made a friend on facebook.  I'm not sure how we actually became friends other than she was my husbands friend via some other website about jews or Leeds, his old stomping ground.  But she was so nice and we chatted via facebook about life, religion and world. Then one day, a few weeks ago, she went in to the docs because she thought she had gallbladder problems.  But it was apparently a serious stage of cancer. She died today.  I think it was today.  Even in a virtual world there is grief and sadness when someone is no longer there.


So, should I bring up the latest?  The young guy who was released from the taliban because we traded 5 pieces of shit for him?  I think this is what disturbs me most. This is what I"m trying to escape most.  According to a former friend of his he was quiet, shy and kind.  He was philosophical and a thinker.  Apparently he thought too hard when he was in Afghanastan and decided we weren't as pure as people thought we were.  He wanted to leave.  He probably had a break down.  I can relate.  All of his buddies escaped from the horrors of their surroundings with having beers and going out. They asked him to join them but he didn't.  I get it.  He probably saw the bigger picture and didn't know how to process it.  So he left.  How the hell do I know though?  I don't.


Yes, the mean stuff that I read about what  people say is enough to make me want to pack it in.  Give up on humanity.  I think it's the final straw.  It's difficult to believe people can love one another.  I chose the Christian faith because it is founded on unconditional love.  I don't see that at all in my old circle of Christians friends.  I see judging, fear and all sorts of darkness that I don't want anything to do with.  One thing I don't see is any sort of hope,


Okay, enough of the ranting about others.  Me?  Myself?  Oh for god's sake.  Shall I just take a minute?  Yes, I'm superficial  I looked at myself in a video at Home Depot and there, in the camera is a woman whose eyes are framed by deep, dark circles of bags.  OMG...is that ME?  I'm not one to grow old gracefully...okay?  So stone me for it.  I'm just not there.  Of course you have heard it before; I feel like my life is just beginning.  But of course, it's not.


It's hot as hell in this Phoenix.  The nights cool off a bit and I lie in my comfy hammock under the three palm trees and look up at the stars.  Sometimes I ponder the greatness of God, other times I feel the presence of my loved ones who have gone on.  But it's a peaceful time,  the dogs make sure I"m okay, then go back in to the air conditioning. And I am alone.  Just like I came into the world and just like I'll leave.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou