Archive for the ‘Letting go’ Category

It happened shortly after my husband left for an out-of-town job. I was swallowed by my art room. But I was not the only one. My hamster, Zola, was missing.

We returned from Reno to find a cage with full food cup and water bottle sans Zola. She must have perfected her escape scenario soon after we left the house. Knowing about her penchant for Houdini like behavior I made sure to secure the latch on her cage with a large safety pin. Seeing the door still closed really made me wonder if she was hiding under the fluff. My husband checked. Not under the fluff! Her furniture and toys were still in the same place which is a sure sign of her absence as she redecorates daily. A closer look at the door reveals…a turned safety pin and an inch and 3/4 gap…and a three foot fall from the bookcase.

I searched everywhere I could on the first day and hours each day thereafter to no avail.
My art room was the most difficult. I moved boxes out to the dining room table and spread out…frightened that I was going to find this dead thing laying between the boxes. It was not a pleasant experience though a good reason to organize.

The morning my husband left and I was swallowed by my art room I noticed the tiniest bit of fragnance. By afternoon I was more than suspiscious Zola was close. That evening I found her behind the bookcase that I could not move alone.

The following day found me in the cool (thank goodness) but windy outdoors. It was a good day to make a grave marker while waiting for my husband to return. Only he didn’t. My daughter was coming over we were going to have graveside service for her. It was getting cold and I wanted to go inside. I simply couldn’t wait any longer.

I am blessed with good neighbors. I ran next door and recruited the neighbor and he recruited his grandson for pest control duties. While I waited outside they removed the rodent. My daughter came over and we laid Zola to rest under the rosebush, covering her little resting place with a small piece of slate.

That evening I was working on cleaning and organizing my art studio. I pulled on a cord that was around the back of the bookcase and found evidence of my poor Zola’s demise. She had bitten through the cord and zapped herself. While thankful she didn’t suffer a death by starvation I was enormously grateful there was no fire.

And so was the death of our Houdini hamster. The end…Or is it the beginning of a new tale…The Hamster Haunting…


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Christmas Day was wonderful with my husband, daughter, ma-in-law, and pa-in-law. We played, we ate, we laughed and enjoyed one another staying in our hearts for the day. The following day with extended family was filled with angst, tension, bitchiness, and the desire never to repeat the experience. After a short time, everyone parted and went our separate ways. With two Christmases down and two to go, we hit the road for the Salinas/Monterey area.
The tires rolling along the highway was calming. It was nice being in the passenger seat for a change and I thoroughly enjoyed looking at the passing scenery. The drone of the rubber meeting the road is a steady sound that allows me to slip into a state of meditation. I allow my thoughts to come and go. It is strange that certain sights can evoke such strong memories. And it is even stranger that strong memories can evoke certain sights.
I see the old road broken and filled with weeds, one side fallen down the hillside. It takes me back to life as a child… when we were still a family…making the trip to the delta and our boat. I wonder how many times I got sick from the neverending twists and turns of the road rising and falling through steep hills. I actually only remember once when all that was handy was a bag of plums.
I recall the story my father told me about a Native American princess and Lover’s Leap. I imagine what it was like living in the surrounding countryside. I remember reading about Pacheco Pass’ history and supposed hauntings.
My heart starts to feel full and heavy like I’m going home. But I’m only nearing the town where I was born; the area filled with my childhood memories of my father, family, aunt, uncle, the many cousins, and times spent together.
The pain medications slips in and my mind grows fuzzy. It’s not a bad feeling.  The music is on and I know all the songs. I slump down in my seat, nestle down into a pillow against the window and sing. I sing with my true voice. I sing each and every word with a passion. I sing from my heart. I realize that it is possible to find time for myself even when others are near… I sing!

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The words come and my fingers travel across the keyboard without thought to typos or other edits. This is a major feat to those of us prone to correcting on the spot. The words come easily, but so does the doubt.

I seem to be on a roll and the story starts to sound like my own life. I begin again with a new approach. Again the story takes on my life. Third time, same thing.

I take a break  and read through my old posts. I didn’t seem to have a problem writing fiction while in the company of Drambuie. What’s up? Recent posts show an average of three comments. Hmmm. The Glass Art comments are much more plentiful, between six and eleven. Hmmmm…Perhaps writing isn’t my…STOP!

I’ve done glass for maybe six months.I’ve been writing all of my life. Writing is a huge part of me and I know that is where I can make a difference. And I find myself reverting to looking for approval outside of myself  like always. I’m thinking that perhaps I have become too serious, too heavy in my writing as I dig deep into my soul. Perhaps I’m stuck  and I can’t pull myself out.

Wait…What am I worrying about? It is fall when I tend to turn inward towards introspection. I’m analyzing my reactions to interpretations that have nothing to do with where my talents lie or how good I am. I’m reacting to what has happened long ago, in the past. If only I could keep the past where it belongs!

I am reacting to illusions created by my own mind, seeing rejection where none exists.

I choose tostop my own suffering by shutting off the illusions I have about myself and my gifts.     Yes, that’s my new mantra!

I can do this. It’s all about writing…just writing.  I evoke the feeling of freedom as I create words and am open to go wherever I am lead by my higher consciousness.

I am thankful for all that I have in my life, for the silent and spoken encouragement and support. I am thankful for my Nano Buddies who are sharing this struggle in their own way. Ah, that feels better.

All is well again in my world. And I found the approval within myself. It’s all good…I’m good to go…4,504 words and still counting.

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The Perfect Night

It was a fun movie that followed the usual story line as all those romance novels I used to read,  but the comedy was a great addition.  (That the story took place in Sacramento showing the exact building we were sitting in didn’t hurt the cinematography either!) We laughed at the movie, but laughed even more at a female audience member. During the movie, one of the co-stars (Eric Winter) takes off his shirt. A half sex starved and half orgasmic moan came from behind us. My hubby, myself, and the people seated on each side all fell out laughing. I was just glad the moan didn’t come from me as I’m sure I was having similar thoughts.  Oh, just look and see what I mean. (Don’t worry, no one can hear you right now…go ahead and moan if you are so moved…)


 (Hey, so he’s 19 years younger than me. He’s hot, he”s legal, I may be married but I’m not dead,  and I’m allowed to look!)

As we left the movie theater, the woman and her friends were walking ahead of us. She looked back seeing us and remarked to her friends how embarrassed she was. Didn’t need to be with me. As I said, I was just glad that moan hadn’t tumbled out of my imagination!

Holding hands, my hubby and I walked down the escaltor still chuckling. It was then I heard the music of acoustical guitars and male vocals. It was the kind of music I would have chosen for myself during a moment that looked like a movie and felt like a dream…Beautiful!

We sat outside a brewery/restaurant  in the circular plaza. The plaza had a domed rooftop that extended down the row of shops on each side of the mall. But right above us, the dome was was full of the nighttime stars  as though it was thrown open to celebrate a perfect summer evening.  How I love moments like this with the lovely breeze and live music to accompany the romance…Perfect!

We listened to the music and watched people walking by. I spied a single man with a backpack strolling alone. All of a sudden, his feet took on lives of their own breaking into a jig as he danced his way down the length of the mall as far as I could see. My heart “ahhhed” at the sight of his enjoyment and it reminded me of the Dancing Wedding YouTube videoI had just sent to my fellow creators of visual and written art. Here was a man who had embraced his joy and accepted the challenge GET UP, GET OUT, AND GO FOR IT! It made my heart sing!

Unfortunately, the band was on its last set and the music ended far too soon.  After dropping a tip in their jar, I boldly strolled up to band members Chad, Sean and Greg, thanking them for their incredible stylings. I told them their music added magic to the night. Sean said that was the highest compliment they had ever received. “We’re here every Saturday night. Come back and see us!” Yeah, like I need prompting…

Walking back to our table I realized I didn’t have sugar for my iced tea. However, the table next to us did. I asked the older couple sitting there if I could have a packet of sweetner. “No, take the whole thing,” the man replied pushing it toward me. “No, really” I told him. “I really just want a packet.” He insisted I take the entire container of sugars and sweetners. I argued with him and staged a mock fight with him. I expressed my appreciation of his sense of humor and as he was smiling he suddenly stopped feeling my hulk of a hubby behind him. “You messin’ with my woman?” he asked. The stranger stated, “You bet!”

I returned to our table and found myself alone as my hubby chose that moment to enter the restaurant in search of the men’s room. The couple next to me then turned and started moving everything from their table to mine…salt, pepper, advertisements in the plastic holder, coasters, everything…then turned their backs on me. I couldn’t contain my giggling. When they left the premises, they stopped as I told them to have a great night. They actually thanked me for being so fun…like I need encouragement to be an outrageous extrovert. 

To sum up our date night, the perfect night…Woo hoo!


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Shame…It something you don’t have to dig deeply to touch, but you do have to dig deeply to release. That is my recent challenge.

“Good luck. You two deserve each other.” I wrote on the mirror. He was pretty pissed about that and we were yelling.  Down the hallway was a married friend in a darkened living room with another married friend of the opposite sex.

It was not a good night for fighting. But a fight it was. I was moving out. She was moving in. Three years of a love triangle with an ugly ending. There was no skin to skin contact with anger though there was contact between my body and other objects, a box and a lawn sprinkler.

Our roommate drove me to my new apartment to get me away from the situation. I looked into the mirror. There was a mark and some slight swelling on the corner of my right eye from landing in the stack of moving boxes. Damn! It didn’t look like there would be a black eye. On my right thigh was a bruise the size of coffee mug opening. No one would see that as it would be covered by clothing.

I’d had a few drinks and felt justified at the time. I poked my eye to make sure it would be black. Yep! A good sock in the eye. I deserved it. I wasn’t worth anything anyway. I wasn’t the one he wanted. I wasn’t even worthy of the truth though I had asked for it more than once. Why not!

I went to work…a place all three of us were employed. People asked me what happened but I just shook my head in silence…except when she asked. I told here “this is what you have to look forward to.” I never said he hit me. I stayed silent on the matter…(and was later praised by management for not bringing it into the office or allowing it to affect my work.) As I drove out of the parking lot that day, I saw he had left a red rose in a cup on her truck. It was a knife in my heart, shredding the last of my self-esteem.

 The three of us have chosen each other as family, spending the 4th of July together, among other times of togetherness. We stand as an example of true forgiveness, respect, and love . I stayed silent until two days ago. I apologized to him for my shameful act. His reply was “People who knew me know I wouldn’t do anything like that and the people that wanted to believe it did.”

Why do I continue to feel the shame of a 22 year old woman searching for the truth who chose to lead people to believe an untruth? Where is that feeling of a weight being lifted off? Where is the full breath I haven’t been able to take for the past 30 years?

All of it could have been avoided…had the truth been told about the choice already made.

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Sit quietly in front of your computer. Take a deep breath, hold it for the count to three, exhale slowly. Do this three times.  As you exhale, calm your busy mind. Empty your head.

Turn on computer. Place fingers upon the keys and lightly but quickly move your fingers to other keys as though typing. Stare at the blank screen then begin to visualize your heart upon on the screen. It is beating, you can see it beating. Realize there is an endless supply of alphabet letters bumping around in your heart with each beat. Just imangine this for a moment.

 And on your heart there is a door. Open the door. Pause for a moment then see letters forming into words as they float through the open door of your heart. OK. Good.

Now begin typing…faster…fast enough that you capture those words coming from your open heart…The words begin to flow faster and faster.

Look! You’re writing!!

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