The stuff of life

The "Goo" inside the cocoon, or egg~
THAT is the stuff of life.

Complex molecules and proteins,
Building an unseen structure...
Which will crawl, or walk, or fly- some day.

The goo is actually sacred.
Perhaps not holy, but sinless thus far.
A sticky, salty, slush which perpetuates life.
Including the eggs which the fox consumed~

Wriggling in my own cocoon-

Wet, slimy, and waiting. I wonder,

Will I have wings, or will I remain a worm?

Will I drink nectar, or will I digest the rot of the forest?

Both jobs are important and necessary.

Splendor is in the eye of the Beholder~

A Butterfly becomes such at the mid point of it's life...

Lovely to think of, isn't it?

Our years of marching on the ground, eating leaves, and gobbling up milkweed,

Next a time of retreat into a shell and then waiting.

We dissolve into the goo from which we came,

And emerge as a creature who gives life.

-

Only in it's winged form can a butterfly reproduce.

And the "Goo" is in her eggs :)

Becoming a butterfly is fine enough,
But I'd rather be a bird of prey-

(I was not holding the bird in this photo, but I did take the shot :)

A hawk, an Eagle, an owl...
Terror of the sky, AND the maker of a warm feathered nest.



My outer shell is hardening.
The goo dissipates as the structure inside is almost completed.
Breaking out is a struggle.
The "stuff of life" has made me who I am~

And staying put is not an option. Not if I intend to soar~

And I do.

My 4yr old nephew, Asher, is spending a few hours with me everyday this week. We have the privilege of meeting up after pre-school, having lunch together, going to the park, or just sitting at my house and watching Tom and Jerry.

Warning: He is delightful.

Today when I picked him up at pre-school he asked me, very nicely, if we could play on the shool playground for a few minutes before going back to my house. It was a gorgeous day and I told him we could stay for 10 minutes. He climbed up the monkey bars, and went down the slide, jumped off of things that should have broken bones (he bounced instead), and started a dinosaur dig.

We left the school and stopped by Burger King. The day was too pretty to stay inside so we went over to a local park to have lunch. On the way there

Winter in Xzanadu

A rushing arctic wind blows past, but the cottonwood tree, stretching out over my porch...her dead pods and leaves do not stir, for they are frozen.
My whole forest stands still, like a brave naked army before the Ice King, standing up tall and solid in their ranks before the frigid enemy.
They may be coated in ice, they may lose their limbs, some may fall in the bitter onslaught, but the defense of Xzanadu will hold. 
The heat of the heart of their queen rests inside a humble abode, whispering prayers which freeze in thr air as she blesses her forest, yet still, her voice makes it's way heavenward.
No ill will befall this place as long as she lives and her love is here.
(Or so I dearly hope!)

I've also got taps running and cabinets along the main waterline open to keep them warm.
It's going to be more like a winter-frozen land ♡

A Sweet cure~

"Because there is so little water in honey, microorganisms that encounter honey die as the water in them is removed by osmosis. In addition, as honey is diluted with water, a chemical reaction between glucose, water, and oxygen produces small amounts of hydrogen peroxide and gluconic acid. The slow release of hydrogen peroxide makes honey a mild antiseptic. The acidity of honey also reduces the number of organisms that can live in it. "


The other morning I was watching my bees, as I usually do for a little while everyday, and I observed several of them removing a dead comerade from the hive.   Three or four of them rolled and wiggled the deceased out to the front of the hive, and two of them (somehow) carried her body to the ground.  One bee remained with the body of the dead bee, feeling her and walking over her...performing a last rites of one sort or another(?), and then she returned to the hive.   I imagine this is something that happens quite often, due to the short life span of my little buzzing neighbors.  (I wouldn't exactly call them "friends", nor should I say they are "mine"...because bees belong to no-one but their Queen.)

Worker Bees die in the summer about every 21 to 30 days, however, this is the same amount of time (21 days) it takes for incubation.  Worker bees are all female and do all of the work in the hive.  The Drones are male and only live to mate with a Queen, and he dies soon after. 

A honey bee has a single purpose in life:  To reproduce the colony.   Everything they do, from gathering nectar and pollen, making honey, building honey comb, to laying eggs, and removing their dead...it's all for the survial of the next generation.

Is this the purpose of all lesser, or non domesticated, creatures?

I use the term "non domesticated" because I was thinking of my cats, who are both fixed, and care nothing for creating a new generation of themselves.  They only want their favorite food and to be petted...and to sleep in a comfy spot on my deck chair.
However, I have seen my cats chase bugs and butterflies for sport.  Obviously they aren't hungry- they are having fun.   The same can be said of dogs, dolphins, horses, and even bears.   Though I hardly consider a bear to be a creature that can be domesticated.

I guess this train of thought comes from my own inner longing of wanting to be sure I've found my purpose, and that I am pursuing it.   I think humans generally have more than one purpose.   I think our purpose, or callings, change over time.   I know they do.   My 20's and 30's were spent caring for my children.  My 40's are very different.  At 30, with a 6 and 4 yr old, I could scarcely imagine being away from my family for a weekend, much less a week or a month.   At 40- (and beyond, I hope) this is not out of the question, and is at times a wonderful reality.

All that being said though, this morning, as I marveled at the honey bees in my back yard, I felt a little twinge of longing...
Of longing to know my purpose before it unfolds on the horizon.  Of seeing the productivity of bees, and the lounging of my cats, and knowing I was somewhere in between those 2 lifestyles.    Recognizing the beauty of my life and being thankful for what I have, yet feeling certain there is much more for me to do...

Relations and relationships...

I suppose we all have people close to us who have hurt us...
Friends, or family...

One of those people played on me today. Someone who has hurt me like no-one else ever has.

I can honestly say that in the whole world- there is only one person I've come very close
to hating. And even now- I will only say that I don't "hate" her- because I know that hate is wrong.

More importantly- Hate is destructive to ME- not to her. She could not care less how I feel about her.

So- she calls...and of course she leaves a message for T- she wouldn't dream of calling for me.
I have sworn that I will not EVER knowingly go any place where she is present. NEVER.

I'll probably miss a funeral for an important family member because of her...but, whatever.

So- of course, we haven't heard from her in over a year...and she calls because she wants something. Something that I have- and she thinks she can get it through T.

I was so angry today I could have split in 2.

So furious that I needed a good deal of time to myself to calm down.

She is awful. Mean. Cut-throat. Evil. A User. Wicked. Manipulative. And related by marriage.

Ahhhh- Christmas brings out the goodness in us, right???

*********************************************************

In the end I made a deal with T...she could have copies of the things she wanted, but not originals. It was the most that I could do...and better than being angry and loathing this woman with all my might.

T, who knows what this woman has done- all the ways she has inflicted pain- said,
"Cora, you are a good person...I hope you know that."

**********************************************************

I don't feel like a very good person. I feel like old wounds have been re-opened, raw flesh has been trampled on, and yet again- this pitiful excuse for a woman is fooling around in my life once more...but what can I do?

Be gracious.
Honor my husband.
Let go of my hate...
Feel the Force...

Can I be a Jedi now???

*******************************************************


Merry Christmas- and love to all of you.
If you want to know who the "thorn in my side is"- you'll have to email me :)

People Behaving Poorly has been the Rule, NOT the Exception

Public reactions to the slimy news about men being sexually inappropriate surprise me.   In my lifetime we, as a society, have moved from the mentality of “Boys will be boys”, to “He looked at me in a creepy way and then I felt ashamed and violated”.

Women, primarily, are coming out of the woodwork to accuse men in power of basically chasing them on the playground and pulling their pigtails in elementary school.   I clearly remember being chased (it was a game we played… Boys Chase the Girls, and Girls Chase the Boys!), caught, held down, and kissed by the boy I had a crush on in kindergarten.   Then I walked around wiping my face and saying, “Ewwwww!   He is disgusting!”   All the while feeling quite smug I had at least been kissed and not had a frog slipped down my dress.   It was the WAY we played as kids, and as we aged we continued to play in a similar way.   We wrote messages on paper passed in class, a risqué song dedicated to someone via the radio- and all of us were listening to the same station back then, an anonymous butt grab at a ball game, or a quick kiss in the parking lot.  Go this weekend, to any high school ball game- look for yourself.   Little has changed.     

Most of us were taught the moral boundaries of what was acceptable touching and what was not.   Some did not get the memo.

However there is NO such thing as MORALITY in Hollywood, nor in politics.   I dare say the Catholic church itself has paved the way for some of this depravity.    

Currently we have ladies complaining of being touched, or an unwanted kiss, lewd suggestions on elevators, and texting/flirting in a sexual manner as if this was an absolute violation of their personhood.   The missing ingredient in most of these accusations is violence or malice.

If anything we are grossly diluting the actual definition of Sexual Assault, or sexual violation. 

This is where we enter the slippery slope of intention.   Men do stupid things.  Women do stupid things.   There are evil men in the world, and there are evil women in the world, however-  mostly people are dumb.   Sexual assault is a crime.  Being violently abused or mistreated is wrong and punishable.   Men can be irritating, tacky, immature, and thoughtless, but that isn’t a crime.   Men in power don’t suddenly become angels or Saints, and the women they work with shouldn’t become weak or have less backbone in their presence.  A simple, but firm, NO would have put an end to many of the less startling accusations of sexual advances. However, the ladies I’ve been reading about lately would rather pout, play victim, and point to the brute.   Who, in fact 20 years ago might have been a brute, but has matured, made himself a better man, and hasn’t the slightest idea who their accusers are today.

Women, and men, who have been truly victimized, are getting lost in the shuffle of oh-so-many flimsy accusations.  Ladies being invited to a hotel room, for any reason, should be clued in there are other ideas afoot.   Men who are applauded behind closed doors, or at a roast in their honor (Lauer), but bashed in the public spotlight for butt pinching and creating a sexually charged workplace does not balance out.   A double standard seems to exist, and a lot of angry and repressed women (in vagina hats) are riding this wagon as far as it will go, whether they were truly violated or not.   I also find it curious that everyone accused is famous or well known.   We are now in a climate where an accusation equals guilt and that is a violation in and of itself, and it helps no one.

The real victims of sexual assault, by all means, should come forward, but not go straight to the media, which I believe weakens their case.   Go to the police, call an attorney, and go to a domestic violence support group.   The ultimate goal of a victim is to be a survivor and not become a different sort of perpetrator, like the kind who ruins the life of another with mere words.

Ladies and Gents wake up.  No one should be abused or violated, although it happens every day.  Since the dawn of time people behaving poorly has often been the rule and not the exception.

-Cora Blue

12.13.17

Con te partirò (With you I will leave- or Time to say Good bye)

When I’m alone

I dream on the horizon

and words fail;

yes, I know there is no light

in a room where the sun is absent,

if you are not with me, with me.

At the windows

show everyone my heart

which you set alight;

enclose within me

the light you

encountered on the street.

 

Time to say goodbye

to countries I never

saw and shared with you,

now, yes, I shall experience them.

I’ll go with you

on ships across seas

which, I know,

no, no, exist no longer.

It’s time to say goodbye…

 

When you are far away

I dream on the horizon

And words fail,

and, Yes, I know

that you are with me;

you, my moon, are here with me,

my sun, you are here with me,

with me, with me, with me.

 

Time to say goodbye

To countries I never

Saw and shared with you,

now, yes, I shall experience them.

I’ll go with you

On ships across seas

which, I know,

no, no, exist no longer,

 

with you I shall experience them again.

I’ll go with you

On ships across seas

Which, I know,

No, no, exist no longer;

with you I shall experience them again.

I’ll go with you,

I with you.

https://youtu.be/LWQbuJ24Wzg

Angels can't be kept...

A Bitter film coats my tongue
Dry and unquenchable thirst,
5 too many shots of Bourbon
Sobriety reunites me with my pain

Your smile flashes in my head,
What's worse, the burn or the heart bile?
The impossibility of you torments me
I drink, I weep,  and I fall asleep..,

.

You, 200 miles away

.  In a prison of happenstance.

   You aren't free, and I am trapped...

attached to you via the soul.

I will go to my grave with your name on my heart

I can change.  I can slip away.  But how?
How does one walk away from an angel?
Damn his perfect beautiful kisses.

He scorched my tongue and ruined me

I feel I will die without him.
I have hope, that maybe, he might be mine.
But some ugly shred of grief reminds...

Angels can't be kept.

But I can, and would be again

Be careful what you wish for-

Over Ten years here...Might be time for something new?

I am not sure...I wander around here in these lovely hallways and tiny rooms- and I see a decade of work, love, huge losses, and re-building at an age when some of my friends are talking about retirement in 5 years.

5 more years?  Holy cow- I can hardly imagine where I will be in 5 years.   Actually, that is a complete and utter lie.  I am almost where I want to be in 5 years.  If my home had a hot tub or pool (hot tub is coming I do believe)- all I would pray for is a partner.

Actually.  I DO pray for that partner.  I know him.  I love him. I want him in my day to day life.  It will happen, but not now.   I am very blessed to know his name, address, phone number- etc ♥   Our lives intersect at certain places, but the bond is big and tight- enough to get us through to the other side.    I can not tell you how much I love him because the words have not been invented yet.  I might have to work on that.

Until then- this home maker of 20+ years is in new territory.   Single, out in an enchanted forest, surrounded by more blooms and bees (not my honey bees yet- sad face) and gorgeousness than I can ever explain or describe...with a lot of time on my hands to be exactly where I have hoped, and prayed, and dreamed I would be.

"Be careful what you wish for"- Mr. Gene Wilder once said, "it might come true."

What a funny notion.   There are so many many things I have spoken into reality, much like a farmer planting seeds in his garden- tiny little words disappear into the soil- which need to be watered, and weeded, and given time in the sunshine.   Then they actually bloom!

I think of K-9- and being in her stunning part of the world right after my mom died.  It was such a haven for me.  Chickens, plants, NO grease down the drain...recycle and burn what you can.  Trips to the dump were a way of life.   I NOW live that life.   Who knew that experience would mark me so deeply, so completely?   No, I am not at the foot of a mountain, but all I am missing is the stream out here in deep woods of North Carolina.   I am home.  At least, I am home for now.

And that last sentence brings me to the true vortex of everything I am feeling and thinking this weekend.   "At least, I am home for now".

Home means different things to everyone.   In the best sense it is the place you grew up, and had friends, and loved deeply, and it gave you good roots.   No matter where you were transplanted, and believe me, there are SO many transplants close to me, your "home" built you, and gives you something to fall back on.  Perhaps Home for some was a place of terror and a place to flee from?  For me, HOME should be a place of safety, even if there is discord, you should be able to sleep soundly and without fear of danger.   If nothing else, your bed should be a haven or sorts.  It was for me.

The cherry on my Sundae is a hoard of books with my name on them, and making enough money to not have to work at Bo'Jangles as a manager to cover my mortgage.   I am no where near that being a reality, but sometimes I slip into a fear mode and think- omg...what if?   What if this goes sideways?

The worst fear is, "What if I am a fraud?"   or, "What if I am wasting my time?"  Or- ummm...how am I going to manage being 80?
Lord-as if I will live that long- lol!

You know what- really?  This all boils down to one big ego trip..."What if no one likes me?"

It's easy to be someone special when you have a crowd around you cheering your name.  I have single handedly eliminated the crowd.   Well, some in the crowd died, but I can't count them.  I do miss them though.

Ten years.   Wow.   I have come a long way baby.  Maybe down a long winding- and out of the way- path, but it has still been a long way!

Love to you all... I will be back, in some form or another.   Might be a fun idea to make this place a secret known only to the ones near my roots?
Perhaps so.

-Cora