Prose; Fact or Fiction


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There are two paths leading up to the summit on the mountain.

The mountain is the universe of Mind, Heart, and Knowledge.

The scales of justice, held by blindfolded Athena have innocuously, with no offense, decided that fiction is just a fact told yesterday or… planning to be told in the future.

The only fact is right now, no, right now, no wait. Ok…NOW!

It’s an eternal chase with each in-breath and out-breath, but the final breath happens where both paths meet at the top.

Breathing ends with the fact of death and time claims fiction.

Prose; brought to my knees


Rumi Water

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.”Abraham Lincoln

Sometimes memories go deeply away into the unconscious like a rabid dragon.

But sometimes they rear their grotesque head and fill my colorless brain in the morning.

My 16-year-old son, coming in the front door and dropping to his knees, weeping, after seeing his Dad for one of the last times before he died. They had a little sacramental exchange showing they were bonded forever head to heart.

It’s four years extinct but there is a harrowing rock between my throat and my heart that wells up bereaved tears into my eyes and makes my mangled heart break, wondering where all the music in the house went? His dad was a musician. And what of my son’s future without his father?

Three months later my fiance died, dropped to the floor at the hospital from the flu and never came back awake. I felt like I was going to die standing there. I felt my fledgling spirit try to leave my body. Some friendly phantasm kept me there and I just went into numbing shock while a hospital helper offered me an innocuous sandwich. I thought I was going to throw up my soul. How could she offer me a sandwich? It was very odd to me.

Why am I even still here?

Death is always around me but I am full of Life. What vortex do I live in that protects me in this fragile dimension? My own.

A prophetic, intuitive one that takes great joy in serving my fellows and honing my vital body. Still, that doesn’t stop the sudden onslaught of being brought to my knees with grief and awe at what I’ve been through but still alive.

Well, part of me is not. Part of me died with them.

The death of someone you love is not something you get over it’s something you live with and becomes part of your saliferous breath. Life is not a happy merry-go-round for most of us and there’s no point in pretending.

Heartset; There’s No One Left. I’m Alone.


It has finally happened after twenty years. I live alone in my house, no men, no noise, no demands for food or rides, this or that, “Mom can you help me!” “C’ mon, let’s go to the store”.

My son’s dad died two years ago…the last time I saw him was Christmas Day. Five days later, he was gone. I barely eeked out a smile as I said goodbye. He had been pretty emotionally abusive to me, frustrated his whole life, not knowing he was high-functioning autistic savant until three months beforehand. My efforts at solace could not change his brain, but he was a music legend on the pile of my torn apart heart. In addition, my son did not see his father respect me; the fruits of patriarchy.

Three months later my fiance died. I had fifteen minutes notice. We loved each other and did everything for each other. It was not to be. He had not taken care of his body and it caught up with him.

Now four days ago, my nineteen-year-old son went out the door with his backpack and no notice to start his hero’s adventure quest which is his birthright. Good for him but he could have warned me! It reminded me of the sudden death of my fiance.

On his way out, of course, he was mad at me and said I was so selfish. I suppose because I take care of myself and being a female, that is unacceptable and taboo. I wonder if he thought of the effect of his words on me, skipping them like stones across the water? Doubtful at his age.

But the men walk out quickly and don’t return I’ve learned, to the other side of this world…or town. It doesn’t matter. They’re not with me.

It is so peaceful in this house without a raucous male. Part of me has waited twenty years to take my body back from my partners and my son, and before that, a line of men, but not a long line.

Now I get an adventure quest; a fresh start, the second half of my life, a thriving business, a home, free to do whatever I want and a body with no risk of pregnancy. I haven’t given it all away.

It’s like this secret I have as a fifty-four-year-old who no one would suspect and assumes in our youth-worshipping culture, female-sacrificing altars around every corner, that I’m all washed up. “Hasn’t that woman been laid flat yet? Well, why not?” (My mother keeps literally asking that as though she’s waiting for me to fall) “She’s Selfish!” they cry. With a capital “S” not a small “s”. There is the low self and the Higher Self.

Truth is, I am my own best friend and for the first time in my life, I’m taking care of my body for me and no one else. More and more women are doing it. I’m not alone. We still have work to do and adventure quests to commence. Ridiculous isn’t it.

I feign an attitude and a bird ready to flip until my dying day…because I said so.

 

Essay; Sad and Sorry…Pivoted


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I was just, in the flow of things, feeling sad and sorry today thinking about the fact that we are heading into the Memorial Day weekend and I am mate-less because he died March 13th.  That could make you feel sorry for me in and of itself, especially since he was my soul mate but that is leveling itself out now that we’re in May in Michigan.

Michael, my mate, who was going to be my fiance, is still with me. Ashes scattered in the garden, we are absolutely, telepathically connected. He’s with me all the time, still learning on the other side, we continue to teach each other, and he’s trying to earn his wings and climb the spiritual ladder. So, that’s all good, but that’s not the theme here.

I was feeling very down today until my patient came to get her medical massage and asked how I was.  Essentially I said, “Meh” (I didn’t precisely say that) and she asked me why.  I told her I miss Michael and we always had great fun at the holiday, shopping, cooking out, blah, blah, blah, all the traditional things. I’m not marching from grave to grave this year with flowers due to the many people around me that have died this year.

She counters and says, “I’m married and have a big family and I just want to be by myself. I don’t want to do any gatherings! You’re lucky!” She’s the third woman in the last week who has said she wants to be alone! When patients walk into my office to get a medical massage, they always tell me the truth about how they feel.

I wonder what is going on? Other women are telling me that men they know are dying suddenly and they’ve been to too many funerals. For real. Guys…you may want to put your best foot forward these days before the Light sucks you into its eternal vortex. Because lately, on this planet, we women like to be alone.  If you’re not here to help and to love…well…

I’m not wishing it!  I’m just observing what’s going on.