How it looks to me…

time,

the silent keeper of the unseen, 

the unknown.

until it is time,

to become seen, to become known.

jd

friends awesome! what they say awesommer!! tell me yours…

so what you are telling me dr.

is…

i should be having chemo…

just in case,

‘i’ get…

cancer.

                                                                                     B 2012

What means real?

Are our thoughts and things ‘real’ because we believe?

Or do we believe because our thoughts and things are ‘real’.

YUMMY!

It feels like the first taste of candy floss, (pink)….no…..(blue) feeling in slow/stop motion.
:-) xox

Gratefullness . . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=gXDMoiEkyuQ&vq=medium

There is a story behind this thought that grabbed some space in my mind.

LOVE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SEX.

LOVE HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH SEX.

this is how I remember what story has to say.

Stay tuned I will fill in the blanks soon. It is still unfolding.

In the meantime, what story does it say to you?
Please share. :-) xo

speaking of time…

which came first?

images portrayed in nature….

or nature portrayed in images?

;-) jd

Strangeless

Time….

the silent keeper

of the unseen,

the unknown,

until it is time

to become seen,

to become known.

jd

who or what did cast this shadow?

As I looked up toward this sky,

 a gift of light

danced before my eyes.

Our healing weekend had just ended,

talk of star children

had interstected.

It was like they knew

we spoke of others,

now I stand

 with mouth wide open,

this shape of shadow

magically appeared,

yet no shape can be seen

far or near…

Mothers Day

First   Last

The sum of our existence

happens in between 

now and here.

To begin       

we must take this.  

Our aliveness

requires it.  

 

The end

will be marked,  

when it leaves here  

without us.

As breath becomes breath-less,

words turn word-less.

Released,

in the realm of mind.

Life,

curves back to life-less.

The sound of you rattles,

as it prepares to leave,

….three one thousand, four.

Her breath so small,

there is no more.

Her chest,

falls too quickly.

There is little use for it now.

Really,

nothing at all.

Slowly I begin again,

one, one thousand….two.

Will this time be it?

My own breath suspended. 

Thirty five seconds,  

means   close to the end.  

Nine one thousand   ten…

twenty five more,   

till then.

This space in between breaths

feels like forever.  

Hurry hurry.    

No.   Wait.    

Don’t go!

 

Lying here next to you mom,

each day,  as if our last.  

I wonder why

we ever considered, 

‘too slow’

and ‘so fast.’

To measure

the minds travels

comforts us somehow.

You held on strong

to the belief that time

would bring you ‘time’, 

to be

happy when.

I felt your loneliness here.  

You were,

not alone.

The mind has plenty of company.

Choice invites them in.

These guests,

a colorful bunch,

diverse and entertaining.

They can hook the mind

if you let them.

They’re most comfortable when you’re not.

One by one

they slip into our thinking.

Without notice out our mouth.

You might recognize their names;

Would Have, Could Have and 

Should Have.

They are from the same family,

I believe it’s The Hopes and The Fears.

Now and again supported by,

If Only and If I.

Thoughts.

They love to be entertained,

over and over,  

and over,

again.

The mind pasted over,

with vintage wall paper.

When too long happens,

happiness dulls.

Buried but not forgotten.

“A Beautiful Form Watcher” 

Kaleidoscope by name.

With a gentle twist,  

celestial patterns dance,  

affectionate with color.

The simplicity of this invention,

awakens imagination.

Tickles our emotions.

Life can be as magical,

it loves to play this way.

Simply swivel your mind

so color and light

re enter one more time.

Fresh reflections offer up

a different point of view.

Happiness slips in,

 we begin

again,

again.

Now is here,

your earthly robe shed.

Your time has moved on mom,

I never liked the word ‘dead.’

That time is never ending.

That you have new sight to see,

the shining gem of love

you have always been.

is now wholly confirmed.

All I Ever Wanted

“ALL I EVER WANTED”

All I ever wanted. Is to be ‘normal.’

Why do I have to spend? Another year, in another school, in a room named. ‘Special Ed’.

Some would say. “What’s in a name?” “Don’t worry bout it.”

Do you know? What it feels like, to squeeze into this desk. With ‘Ugly.’ ‘Tard.’ ‘And Reject’.

I barely fit as Frances.

This room. Where everything and everyone. Stands out against the rest. I do not want to be “special.” I really hate you people. DO NOT! Look at ME!

Just let me walk the halls. Un-noticed. It’s all I need to be.

High school. Yes! Grade nine, I’m here. Some days its super exciting. Some days I’m full of fear. My older brother told me stories, cause he too went here. He’s from another mother. His and mine are sisters. What was my dad thinking?
He told me stories about this place. Where, “crazy stuff goes down.” My two older sisters, my aunties really. They have told me their side of it too. Crap. Why do I even need school?

The scariest thing to face. Is Hundreds. Must be Thousand of eyes. Staring the way they do.

Long bangs will help. If I cannot see them. Then like I tell myself. “They cannot see you”.

I miss my grade eight friends. I have known them since grade one. They used to tease me too, that was different. Then.

That pain, now feels, so very very small. So very far away.

You should see in here. The weirdos. I do not belong. They are mostly boys. And you know. They talk. act. And smell so bad. In this class room, weird is weird!

I believe. No. I know. This place is not for me. I cannot stay in this room another minute. I am outta here!

The best part of high school. Is its size. Way more places to hide!

“Frances Winters. Return to room 17.” “Frances Winters. Room 17. ”OMG, they have paged me. Sooo embarrassing. Keep my head down. No one knows me here.

Frances. Frances. Hey where are you going? Why did you just up and leave? You can’t do that. Wait for me.

Ignore her. She cannot make me go back. Do they know how stupid this looks? A Teachers Aid in high school. Running down the hall. I am 14 years old. I can do what I want. Why is she not giving up? She should know I’ll make her life hell. I’ve been told I do this. All too well.

I push her away with my, “What’s the matter Francis?” face. It holds my scowling looks. So perfectly in place. No one can know it hides. The awful chance of tears. No one here can ever know. How my anger covers up my fears.

What’s wrong with her? Does she not take a hint? Ignoring makes her bug me more. Its time to shout and be mean! I told you before, leave me alone! Why are you following me? Go help someone else. I don’t need you!

Just keep walking. It feels good. I can never talk about my world. Where to begin? Who would care?

My dream world. Looks nothing like I do.

Don’t believe me? Go ahead. Close your eyes. Pretend in your mind. I look ‘all fine’. I am dressed in the latest fashions. They fit so nice. Not stretched and torn. From pulling them down. Ya. You know. They’re obviously too tight.

Now look down at my kicks. My shoes. They are all ‘O G’. That’s original gangster for you. They will fit me just perfect. My feet have been measured. In the mall at that sporting goods store. Nothing like. “Don’t worry my girl. You will grow into them.” Priced. “So we can get them. With the groceries tonight.”

My hair will have touchable color. It will shimmer with Black Cherry. Of course it’s the hottest shade. Applied by the ‘stylist’ Chloe. Her salon. The most popular. My friends will be so jealous.

I really cannot stand. My horrible mouse crap brown. The picture on the box looked creamy like milk chocolate. It lied to me. Of course. What do you expect? From a dollar store product.

See my long curvy legs that beg to wear shorts. In gym class of course. Here I jump so easily. I sink the winning shot. Everybody wants me now. The boys think I’m hot.

Actually. These stocky stumps that rub and cause heat rashes. They will never see the light of day. But they are good for a purpose. They are my secret weapon. They protect and keep me safe. Its self defense of course.

Ok ok. I’m smiling here. You might have guessed. I love that thump my size eight makes. When it says ‘hello’ to it’s target. I practically glow as I drop the bullies. Big and small. Boys and girls. Brown or white. I am not racist. I can drop them all.

Black as my anger. See these eyes. All squished up in big brown cheeks. They should be bright and round. The color of summer leaves. Maybe then I could see the black board. Not that I know how to read. No more tilting my head. No one eyed squinty thing. Just another reason they always lol at me.

Oh and another thing. How many times will these teachers really p me off. With Frances. Do you need eye glasses?

Oh yes. I would love to have more laughter. Just send it all my way. Looking like a geek is great. I can hardly wait.

Those lines and circles called words. They mean nothing to me. I am a master of the ‘copy.’ So really. What difference would it make?

I see the looks they exchange. Do I look like I care?!

In a perfect world. I am the perfect student. I arrive every morning. Wide awake and right on time. Ok, maybe if school could start at noon. Who’s idea was nine?

I greet everyone with my cheeriest smile, my sweetest voice almost sings. “Good Morning.” Ha, not!

My attention span is amazing. Teachers can’t wait to work with me. The future looks so bright.

At the end of the year when they announce my name. Throughout the entire school. It will be to congratulate my honor roll status. Not my running away.

Most days at 3:30. They hold out their arms. A hug you think. For a job well done. Oh no. It is one of their evil ways. They block both doors. They hold me in. I MUST. Serve my detention. The anger surges I say really mean things. They are meant to hurt. Why don’t they get it!

Sit down Francis, you’re not leaving. You haven’t learned your lesson.

My dream behavior. Makes my grandparents. “So proud of you my girl.” They are my legal guardians. Since before I was one year old.

My grandfather (dad), is loving and caring. I cannot say this for his loser son. Hey Stanley. Its me your daughter. Lets go celebrate my good marks. I am top of my class. Has anyone seen my mom?

Is she is out shopping for me? It will soon be winter and this hand me down coat has seen too many hands. The pockets are all holes. The filling has all fallen. Surely she would know this. Oops, I almost forgot. She has her own life. Five more kids to feed. My younger brothers and sisters. Where ever would I sleep?

Oh grandma, (mom). I worry about you. So many problems with your health. Will you still be here? If and when. I graduate?

Now slowly open up your eyes, its hard but you need to see. I am told. I am. My own worst enemy.
I am quick to be angered by those who confuse my brain speed with the only way, I know how to com-pre-hend. Do you really believe that I cannot ‘hear’, cannot ‘see’ the way you look and talk at me?

You who know. Know what I mean.

Your educated big words. The ones that come with your degrees. They don’t work for everyone. May I tell you what I need?

Your patience and understanding. In case you hadn’t noticed. Its very tough to be in this world, as Francis F.A.S.D.*

Just forget my silly dreams. Of course they can never be. Just like my wish. That mom did not drink. While she was pregnant with me.

Frances is the only name I need.

*fetal alcohol spectrum disorder did not have to belong to me.

” A beautiful form watcher”

‘Firsts’…’Lasts’
Now-Here
‘Being Human’
It happens too slow. It happens too fast.

The mind. A kaleidoscope. “A beautiful form watcher”.

It is here for us to make use of. To look into our now and when. The images of life choices refract over and over again. It is difficult to look. It is easier not to ‘see’. The jagged shards of pain or the suffering of misery. To illuminate a truth in here might shatter precious dreams.

We hope for hope. We cling to this life boat. Afloat on a column of fears.

Too easy and too often, the void of light, over takes the mind. We become skilled mourners. We do well to bury. But not forgotten.

Now-here the sliver of life finds a way back in. A fragile revival of happiness. Lights up again and again.

A gentle twist of the kaleidoscope offers up a feast for the eyes. The sensation of magic. She holds us mesmerized. This simple complexity of mirrored reflections. Shape shifts color and light. Is it an illusion, or brand new sight?

Change is changing all the time. Perhaps this notion slipped your mind. Did you know that what we see. Is never seen in the same light twice. Now-here we have. A different point of view.

Simply swivel your mind. You will ‘see’ in time. The reflection of beautiful. That has always been you.

jacqui

Captured & Released

once i married for ‘logic’, confusing it with ‘love’ now i see it was for the ‘chance of’…..timebound events, stuff, material, imaginary…’hope’ which in turn equaled “fear” twenty years ago i was a different me.

i know this because now-here a different me and you, together we are believers in the ‘magic’  we embrace, timeless being, one moment at a time. not always easy but so amazing to experience. here lies all possibilities the strength comes from hopelesness, taking the what is and seeing it, not wishing/hoping for what isn’t.

Freedom

Un-name the named. Un-blame the blamed.
Now-here fill this new space with loving kindness for all and watch how your heart center embraces this new attitude and your life becomes filled with aliveness(magic) :-).

tis the season…

do they see? no i guess they do not, i wish they could,

i suppose they mean well,

but honestly,

i am not at all embarassed as they are about the things i do not have.

i am happiness, i do not need to own it!

peel back the sound

a few months ago i was lying in my hammock enjoying the sensation of melding with my surroundings. as i became aware of the songbirds chorus i also began to notice other layers of sound. as i paid attention i recognized the intermittent roar of traffic from the front street, the ever present honking of the geese on the river, the whining of lawn manicuring machinery etc. i became aware that if i could recognize that these were layers of sound then i should be able peel them back, un-hear them so to speak.

as i fine tuned my awareness it occured to me that we are always searching for that elusive seemingly exclusive moment of silence in the  busy-ness of our days. it was then that i understood. i saw that the silence is also a layer, it has always been there underneath all the other, it is the first, the supporting layer, you don’t have to search for that moment of silence anymore, just peel back the layers it is there where ever you are.

“sad hours seem so long”….(shakespeare)

i always believed she was protected, that they all are. i call upon the angels to protect my three so often…not enough. where were they on that night that the black descended upon her?

“mom, i was raped.”

how can there be dead silence and screaming in my head at the same time? how can i know what to say and in what way?

wait, she is telling me something. where? her best friends place. when? three years ago. oh my god she was just 14. why couldn’t you? and have my family killed? how come you didn’t? i had bruises i couldn’t come home right away. who? a friend of the mothers. they were all on crack. everyone asleep, could not wake up anyone.

my head cannot get the word bruises out of the background of anything else that is being said and anything else that is being imagined.

bruises, bruises, bruises!

 

 

i feel numb

i made it to work, i am smiling my usual smile, yet i am moving as if in some weird space between last night and now here. maybe last night was just a dream, oh god please make it a dream.

keep smiling, walk these halls get lost in the shuffle of 3800 feet passing by. i want to save her, i want to know more…no the images are too much to handle. just get my body to where it is supposed to be, there will be comfort in getting busy with work.

i always believed she was protected, those guardian angels i always call upon. where were they that night? did i forget?

it was three years ago she said through her red motled tear stained eyes, her chest a blob of hot red splotches. what was three years ago, i think my ears just went into shock, i want to hit the back button, no forward, no back, no delete, delete, delete.

i like this

okay here we go…hang on for the ride :-)

i am learning and growing moment to moment join the ride if you dare. haha it won’t always be easy but this is why we are here.

three years of silence, now here her body festers with pain, symptoms unexplained

how did we get here? how do we move beyond?

why her? why not her? why theirs?

i have heard their stories.

now i, we

have our own

why does this need to be a story ever told?

what is yours?