you.

You, you are so much. You are the books you read, the films you watch, the dreams you have and the late night conversations. You are the music you listen to and you're stitched together with the lyrics.  You are the remnants of your adventures and good quotes and the sound of the ocean and the trees you climbed. You are the people you have loved. You are the moon and the stars, the blades of grass and the smell of coffee. An over thinker, over drinker and over lover. You move with passion, splintering chaos, stained hands and mischief.  You have a soul that moves mountains, makes others weep and runs deeper than hell. You are the storm, the havoc, the compassion, the thunder and the love. A lady, a fighter, a healer. You will be wrecked and your pieces will scatter everywhere. And you will be rebuilt by the wind, the river, the sunshine and the moonlight. They will return to you every piece of yourself you gave away to every creature you ever touched, every lover, every hater, and you will be empowered and complete. You will be whole and you will smile. You are a warrior, bold and brave and beautiful. You will share your magic and be kind and laugh and then you will allow someone to come in and shatter you again and the cycle will continue and you will once again teach invaluable lessons and help the weak to quell their demons. You will always push back the darkness.

January 2019

Today is Wednesday 23 January 2019. 

This is not a warm and fuzzy post. If you're looking for positive and hopeful, you won't find  much of it here right now. Maybe next time.

After the initial magnitude of last January hit and the tremors slowly shivered away, we were really only left with the destruction. Then, the realization that, despite our own trauma, we were the clean up crew too.

In the beginning, there is this tremendous outpouring of everything that is good in the world. Everything that is good in people. A living, breathing example of exactly what we are called to be. And apparently there is an expiration date on that sort of behavior for most because it doesn't last long. I guess it's a lot of work, or there just isn't enough time. It dwindles away more and more each day and eventually fades away completely and you are left to navigate, for the most part, on your own. It's a great, looming darkness, always just there, never really leaving completely. Everyone copes differently. I looked for the little things. And when I couldn't find them anymore, I tried to make them, however unappreciated.

I had to do a lot of hard things this past year. 

I had to forgive people who weren't sorry.
I had to give up fighting my way to the other side of grief and accept that there is no "other side." It just absorbing and enduring and learning how to live as the person I am now. It is literally one moment at a time and the constant struggle to not let what has happened to you turn you into someone you are not. 

I had to allow the validation of my situation. I spent a lot of time thinking I didn't deserve that because others had it worse. Mostly because a lot of people didn't give our struggles any validation because others did have it worse. 

I had to find the strength to reach out and then find the strength to pull back when no one was there. 

I had to accept that people and places I gave my heart and soul to, took me out like the kitchen trash.
I had to watch my child be walked on, beat down, and heartbroken, over and over with no way to fix it. I had to watch her endure more pain, anger, ridicule, rejection, and sorrow than any child should endure and apologize to her because there was no way for me to stop it. 

I saw a lot of gray and saw a lot of "true colors."

This year was full of meltdowns, breakdowns, exhaustion, loneliness, fear, sorrow, humility and great loss. 
It was also full of growth, love, faith, resolution, and learning. So much learning.
I learned how inconceivably brave a person can be.
I learned about heroes.
I learned that angels walk among us and are disguised in many shapes.
I learned about patience. 
I learned that sometimes the best light comes from a burning bridge.

It's not over. I wake up  each day broken and defeated and ready for battle. In truth, the war itself has not even begun.   
It's always going to hard but eventually, hopefully, it's worth it.

"Never forget to thank the storm."

Grief is a bare, forceful being

I think the last three days have been the most emotionally draining three days I've had in the last 23 months.  

There is no destination in this process. 
No place to "get to." 
I think the realization of that may be one of the most difficult things. 
Knowing you have to keep going. 
Knowing there is no other side of grief. 
Knowing there may not be any closure, ever.
Knowing that trauma might still win.  
It is absolutely exhausting trying to turn loss into healing. 
It's impossible. 
We don't get stronger, we get harder. 
We don't get better, we just become better liars, mostly to ourselves. 
Grief is a bare and forceful being. 

One of these days

"One of these days

one of these days

I'm gonna sit down

and write a long letter

to all the good friends

I've known.

One of these days

One of these days

One of these days

and it won't be long

it won't be long."

Charleston 1

"Charleston girl in a darkened room

And you don't know her like I do..."

I closed the door, she stole my key.

Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell.

As you ring what batters you becomes your strength.

 The only ghost at St. Philips is the Holy Ghost.

Take trust as your bricks, patience as your cement.

Navigating Soulless Slush & How Vintage Trouble Restored my Faith in Music

When it comes to writing, I get an A for content. As for flow….basically there is none- so just try to keep up.

Sitting, cold and wet at the most epic concert venue in the world, I pondered (which is funny because I was almost too sick to even think let alone ponder)  “what the hell has happened to music?”  There is more rap on CMT than here is on MTV, no music at all on MTV or VH1, musicians are in short supply but if you’re computer literate you can back up and front your own band, produce, record and market your own album and probably take home a Grammy for it the next year. Mind you, you haven’t ever even picked up an instrument and you can’t sing but you know how to mix, I mean fix that. Elwood Blues could not have said it better… It’s recycled digitally sampled techno groove, synth rhythms, pseudo songs of violence laden gangsta rap, acid pop and saccharin soulless slush.”  It’s disappointing really, and disheartening. As the parent of a “tween” I go through a constant circle of emotions when it comes to the music she listens too: proud mom moment, rock out with the kid moment, OMG turn that sh!t off moments, and all points in between. We raised her right though. She loves Elvis, Led Zepplin, Joe Bonamasa, BB King, Stevie Nicks…..and of course she likes Ke$ha, Lady Gaga, and a plethora of other “artists” that definitely have catchy tunes and make you wanna groove in your car seat but musicians? - most of them are not….far from it actually. My husband can completely reproduce their entire albums on his keyboard in less than 30 minutes.

When did it come to this? When did we stop caring about jam bands, guitar riffs that melted your face off, drum solos that made you pee your pants, power ballads that broke down even the toughest bastard.  When did we let go of that? When music grabbed a hold of you and yanked you up by the roots. It wasn’t always sensible but it was profound. It lacked finesse but it was an extension of your soul and you could share it with everyone around you. It was as simple as the fellowship that came from peeing in a field with a bunch of strangers after a show. Music was a religion, just look at the 60’s and 70’s. People dedicated their entire lives to following bands around the country and so what? So what if they gave the proverbial F-You to society and blue collar jobs and white picket fences. They didn’t have a pot to piss in but they had happiness; happiness, freedom and love, they shared, they laughed and they lived-they truly lived.  Yes, things have changed, it’s not so easy to live that lifestyle anymore unless you’re on a commune in Oregon but that doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to settle musically.

This is why I flip through my parents old records once in a while. There is good, good music in there. I was bottle fed this stuff! Led Zepplin, Janis, Jimi, Crosby, Stills & Nash, ZZ Top. It was the soundtrack to life. It was always spinning in the living room. My parents appreciated good music, felt it, lived it, enjoyed it, shared it. They started taking me to concerts when I was 10. My first experience was EPIC, it was loud, crazy, it was Red Rocks, a drunk lady threw up on me-I couldn’t have asked for anything better, it was awesome! My parents were products of the 60’s and before I was 12 I had seen  Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Robert Plant, CCR, ELO, Billy Joel, U2, Foreigner, Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Marshall Tucker.  Then later  they tagged along to the bands I grew up wanting to see, Def Leppard, Metallica, GnR, Pearl Jam, Refreshments, Smashing Pumpkins, Everclear, Matchbox Twenty. They never said no to anyone I wanted to go see because I never liked a band that wasn’t made up of actual, living, breathing musicians.  Love or hate their music, they actually knew how to play instruments…..what a concept!  Maybe all of this technology is put here to make us appreciate the real music that’s left. Hell BB King has been doing this  for 70 years now, still the same, still blues, still plays, still makes Lucille talk, of course he sits a lot more now but what the hell, he feels it, you feel it and it didn’t come off a junk drive. One night, we were stuck on the ramp at Red Rocks for an hour (I have no idea why.)  We stood like cattle waiting to be branded, singing every TV theme song we could think of. Nothing says comradery like belting out the Brady Bunch with a herd of weirdo’s you don’t even know!  None the less, I will never forget it, it was simple, it was stupid and even now, it makes me smile.  On the 25^th Anniversary of Woodstock, my dad stacked the speakers up in the window of our house, pointing outwards, and played Jimi Hendrix Star Spangled Banner as loud as that German system would go.  You could hear it for miles. It was a lesson in love: love of the times, love of America, love of peace, and a lesson on how to break the law just a little bit and feel good about it.

 So back to my pondering in the cold night. I admit I was annoyed by many things at that show. First, I was f-ing cold, it was June and I was cold! On top of that, I was dying of what could only be poisoning from the margarita machine. Mostly,  I was disappointed. When you love a band your whole life (name not to be mentioned) and then you don’t get the show you know they are of capable of, you feel a little cheated.(On a side note, apparently I’m just getting old because I no longer have the patience for stupid people. To this day I do not see the point in $50-200 to see a band (yea, we won’t touch that subject) and then getting so drunk you don’t remember any of the show.)  For days afterwards I read post after post on Facebook about how amazing and wonderful this show was when really, there have definitely been better.  And I guess I feel a little cheated when you have the service fee from hell on your ticket charge and the sound guy has clearly lost his mind because no one in the band can hear each other and the timing is off for the first 5 songs.  And I feel ever further cheated when a guy’s a jerk! The way I see it, I make your paycheck. I buy your CD and your t-shirt, download your songs, pay to see you live. I make your paycheck and you do not reserve the right to be an asshole to me. You have it made, there is no need to be a prick. Maybe my expectations are just too high.

Okay, rant over-now, having said all of that and I know it was all over the place, occasionally, my faith is restored-Alleluia! And if you have achieved restoring my faith you have done something. What I love more than anything in life is when you stumble across by chance, accidentally, or on purpose, a band that makes you smile big and say to yourself “Hell yes, that is what it is about. That is what it is supposed to sound like. That is what it is supposed to feel like. It is supposed to be this infectious! YOU are supposed to make ME feel this way! That is it!”  Kinda like a “come to Jesus” moment in the music world.

Over time, our perceptions change but the electricity never does.  The fact remains that you can’t program passion and you can’t download soul. There is only one way to get that feeling. The one that starts in the soles of your shoes and collapses your knees a little bit and tears through every inch of your insides and makes you groove whether you want to or not and you never, ever want it to stop. It comes from good live music and musicians that love what they do and what they do to you. They give it all, with every ounce of everything they are, it pours out of their hands and feet and eyes, it oozes out of their pores and you can’t help but just want all of it. It’s like a storm that just dropped out of the sky on top of us and blew us the hell away.  How refreshing to hear something so classic and so vintage sound so right now. So soul, so funk, so rock, so creamy, so tasty, so, so…. Energy and sweat and skill and sex flooding the stage and fueling the well-oiled machine that blazes through you like lightening and burns your soul leaving you simply smoldering in the afterglow when it’s all over.

 Yea, that’s what it was like.  That’s what it was like the night Vintage Trouble restored my faith in music.

Imagine

This past week, a friend was dealing with the loss of an old, dear friend of hers.  It was an expected passing and this lady had certainly lived a full and rewarding life...it was simply her time.  As she told me of how they met, the relationship they shared and how they never lost touch even though miles separated them, she said something that struck me and stuck with me.  She said, "She was the kind of woman that, when she was talking to you, she made you feel like nothing else in the entire world existed. A circle of love encompassed you and you were the only one that mattered, even if just for that moment." 

Wow, what if we all had that effect on the people we interacted with. What if we could all do that just once a day, even once a week....once in a while, make a person feel like they had our undivided attention and nothing was as important at that moment as they were.  Imagine the changes we are capable of in this life. Simple acts of kindness, mere drops in the pond, that ripple around the world.  When you fade away, what will they remember?

Imagine.

A barn or many....

To be a coal trimmer...

To be a miner....pt. 2

To be a miner....

BlogJam :0)

Blogjam! So funny! Today, I was complaining because I had writers block, which didn't seem fitting because when you blog, you don't actually "write". Anyway, I proudly proclaimed I had something along the lines of bloglock or blogblock and a very clever person immediately replied "BLOGJAM"! Why don't I think of such clever things? Whether she likes it or not, I have staked my claim in her funny word and I shall treasure it forever! Besides, "blogjam" has officially unjammed my "blogblock"! Fantastical! (That one really is mine :)

And today's topic is.....

Nothin' but pictures! Writing is not the chosen form of expression this week so here's a "filler"! Hope you enjoy!

St. Patrick

Today is St. Patrick's Day, my second favorite holiday...and it IS a holiday. I love this day of green, I love dressing up in green clothes and green jewels, putting shamrocks on my face and beads around my neck and taking in a parade! I simply love it. It's a sense of identity in a way, but in others, leaves a hollow feeling that maybe I don't really know who I am or where I come from. St. Patrick knew though. He new who he was born to, who he was taken from, who comforted him and never left his side during his years enslaved in Ireland. He carefully planned his mission in life during his imprisonment so that when he finally escaped, he could dedicate all his remaining life to God. I often wonder what kind of man he appeared to be. What Pagan villagers thought when this stranger appeared, guided by angels, and told them the stories of Christ, how he lived, how he died, how he was resurrected, and how he would be there salvation. Think about it, if someone wandered into your house going on about how he banished all the snakes from the land, you would call the police and he would be hauled off to the nut house. But St. Patrick had a gift. St. Patrick...had God. And somehow converted an entire country to Christianity. If only, we all had St. Patrick's drive. If only we all knew the exact path we are suppose to take and exactly what we are suppose to be doing. St. Patrick was blessed beyond belief. He had the blessing of certainty.



May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

and rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Okay, so just vent for a second

I sincerely believe that in general, people are good. The world is not as overrun with bad people as we think, even though that is all we ever see or hear about via the communication tools we all carry in our pockets. In general, people are still good. I arrived at this conclusion after many long hours of wondering "why". Why I wasn't mentioned, why I wasn't invited, why I wasn't important enough, why I didn't come first, or even second, why I didn't matter, why I wasn't worth it, why no one cared, why no one helped, why no one complimented or even noticed, why, when searching for happiness, there is only hopelessness. Self pity is optional but I think, sometimes crucially important. It puts things in perspective. It brings a sense of humbleness. It makes us real, makes us feel something, even if it's bad. The same goes for anger. I don't like being angry but sometimes, it feels good to be angry. It especially feels good to do something about it, then feel bad and back to the pity party. Whatever. It's all sadly necessary to feel alive. It's purposeful, if only to force you to strive toward better things and make you appreciate them with a heart so full it could explode. Anger which leads you to humbling forgiveness. Pity which lifts you to being elated with the simple things that come unexpectedly. It's all relevant, it makes you alive. So don't feel bad about it. The payoff is extensive because I know I am worth it, even if I'm the only one who is ever brave enough to show it. Most people are good, including me.

A list

Today is a beautiful day. I am still standing my ground on the opinion that there is no better place to wake up to in the morning, even when it's snowing or raining. That was certainly not the case today. Crystal clear blue skies, snow beaming off the peaks. Deer droppings on the stairs into my office, elk are making the morning drive, uh...eventful? There is even a hint of spring in the air today. Eves dripping, muddy boots, robins. I learned earlier in life not to take these things for granted so in spite of the hard knocks in life, I am thankful for all of it. Today as I write the sound of singing voices of people from all walks of life and all denominations are filling the halls. Sometimes I laugh at the way the sun beaming though the stained glass windows makes people's hair turn funny colors in the mornings but it is a representation of how they are different on the inside too. Yet, on this day, they have come together to pray for you, for all of you, no matter who you are, where you come from or what color your hair is.

Today, I decided to start a list. I list of names and occasions that someone said something to me that made me feel good, worthy, needed. A simple list of names and dates and nothing more. No bad things, no bad feelings, none of those instances where someone made me angry, belittled, worthless, those things aren't worth keeping track of....only good things.

Why. I started a list because I need to remember and be constantly reminded that I am not perfect but I am still worth it. Because I am often broken but worth fixing. Because I am sometimes at my worst but still deserve the best. Because that's what I'll do in return. Because I'll always accept you for who you are even when you won't do it for me. Because I know that maybe you're dealing with something I could never fathom, and maybe I am too. Because in my weakest moment I am stronger than you could ever imagine. And I am not afraid. I know that I am doing the best I can, I know I am doing good things, and I know that I am right where I want to be and things will always get better, even if they get worse beforehand. It's all part of the journey and although I may be unprepared for it now, preparedness comes out of necessity.

In the meantime, know that this small group of people is still praying....for you, for me, for everyone.

I started a list because I need to remember.

"Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait.

Maybe

I know, I know. I have sadly failed at doing this daily. And half the time, I stray off topic. Like I'm about to do now......

I am finding it very hard to "be the change". I am finding myself increasingly bitter this week and the worst part is that I am VERY, VERY aware of it. It's terrible: it's like sitting back and consciously choosing to be a hypocrite. What is wrong with me? I simply must get a grip!

Some good would surely come out of this week though, right?

Someone started quite the argument with me earlier in the week. I was angry, I admit, then hurt, then, I just tried to find the bigger picture. Okay, so if I look at it from the nosebleed sectione, I may have opened myself up for the disagreement, although the other person lacked tact in every form of the word. And it did really hurt my feelings but then I thought, what was the other person feeling at the time? Maybe they were already hurt by something, maybe they were having a bad day, perhaps their life was full of disappointment at the time and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and they chose me to lash out at. And maybe they realized it all but just don't have it in them to apologize. Maybe. The disturbing thing to me is that this is the third time that this has happened in the last month or so. Am I just prone to being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Is it my fault? Do I ask for it? Bring it on myself? I don't really know what the moral of this story is. Perhaps that, when you most want to lash out, be angry, upset, you should just take a step back and put on the other person's shoes for a moment. Maybe it's not you that they are attacking at all, you were just standing in the doorway when they were trying to get out. Maybe the moral for me is that I was in that place, at that time, for a reason and I'd like to think that the reason is that those people needed to hate for just moment and maybe I was there because I can take it, I can forgive them for it, I can know that God placed me right there, right then to be that person, and in the end, no one got hurt (except me, but just for a little bit). It's a definite maybe.

"Forgiveness is the economy of the heart... forgiveness saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred, the waste of spirits." H. Moore

I want Microwave Spirituality

Yes! That's right. I want Microwave Spirituality. I do not want to wait for the oven to warm up, the bread to rise, the dish to bake. I want to hit the minute button and I want satisfaction, fulfillment and peace, and I want it now!

It's a catchy phrase. I admit, I like it. But can you get it? Is that instant gratification available from God? I think it might be.

Outreach update: in very vague terms of course: "Small group of people" ~ rockin' the town! Saving 67 families in one way or another from the forces against them at the time and helping to hold them together. Again, I can't go into details but just know that my small group of people is changing the world, one person at a time, they are healing the world, one heart at a time, they are healing themselves through it all.

Maybe Microwave Spirituality is not so far fetched after all.

Uphill

This morning, Saturday, a day off, I awoke earlier than usual. I simply despise "body clocks"...they are evil! But again, it is beautiful and my annoyance quickly turns to delight when I open all the curtains and see (just like every day) the most beautiful landscape in the world. My delight thickens knowing I can at least stay in my jammies as long as I see fit today. I went upstairs, the view is better from the loft, and quietly planned the day out in my head-"first, blog, you didn't do it yesterday." (I had writers block yesterday.) Anyway, looking out, I realize, the view never changes here, technically, but every day it does look a little different. Different clouds, different light, sun rising at just a slightly different place on the mountain than it did the morning before. I cherish these moments. Especially because you never know when you may wake up to nothing but white falling from the sky and piled three feet high on the ground. Those are wonderful days too, just a different sort of wonderful.

I initially intended this blog be about a "small group of people" in a "small land-locked town". I had a certain group in mind but I found yesterday that I will have to expand it here and there. Still within the town though, of course. As you may have noticed, hope what at a minimum for me on Thursday. But once again, just when I thought there was no hope, someone comes along and proves me wrong and makes me feel like a dummy for thinking so in the first place. And I will admit, that I am okay with that. In your darkest hour, help appears, in some form another. Little by little it is for me. The road ahead is always long, always rocky in places, has many uphills, but for every uphill, there is a down hill, and the rocks can't go on forever. It is sometimes hard to always do the right thing but I'm here to tell you, it's the payoff in the end that matters and it's not hard to get!

Whether you turn to the left or the right, there is always a voice behind you saying "This is the way, walk in it"

Inventory

I cannot lie...today was a terrible day. For many reasons and from many directions, today was a terrible day. I spend an very unhealthy amount of energy today just choking back tears. I will not go into it too much but the fact is that life is not fair and things happen to us that are beyond our control, no one is to blame, but we are sometimes just left to pick up the pieces anyway.

"All things shall pass."

Today, I also took inventory. I took inventory of myself and let me tell you, there are some overstocked shelves, some lacking shelves and some just plain empty shelves. This is good though. I am thankful for my full shelves, for I can share with others and I am humbled by my empty shelves, I will make a plan to fill them up again. It may take a while but I know that everything I need each day will somehow be there on those shelves when I go to reach for it. Even when I doubt, even when I do not know how to pray, somehow when I reach, something or someone, always quietly appears.

"We have so much room for improvement. Every aspect of our lives must be subjected to an inventory... of how we are taking responsibility." 

Whispy...

This morning, as the dawn broke, there were some of those "whispy" clouds on the horizon. That's one good thing about it still being dark at 6:30 AM. "Whispy" kinda set the tone for the whole day. Full, clouded, unorganized, ever-changing, whispy. It seemed to be effecting everyone else too. The school bus drivers, my kid, the traffic light, the elk taking their sweet time crossing the highway while some hurried drivers honked and other "touristy" drivers scrambled for cameras nearly killing the rest of us. My desk awaited me, clean, as always, and the phone blinked "messages". Others amidst their own whispy lives, in need of a long list of things. Volunteers fluttered in and out. A family's home was saved today, we gave their daughter a doll, handmade with love. Every stitch pulled tight with a warm heart knowing each the finished dolls would provide comfort to a little person who's family was in crisis....hopefully she doesn't know it-her parents do though, it's hard for them to hide it from me. It's okay though, it will all be okay.

There have been times in my life that, on days like today, I would have found it hard to find anything in life to be thankful for. Sometimes, it is still a struggle. After all, it does seem that the cards are all stacked against us all of the sudden.

But I have the most the rewarding job in the world, a job that makes me more thankful every day. What is more rewarding than that?

I count my whispy days as blessings as well, they are all part of the plan.