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

Walls and Threads

Restless and wondering,
With an achy soul,
I want what I can not yet have,
Longing- fills me with ashes.

Time-
A creation we invented of minutes and hours,
When in truth, it is made of words,
Kisses, and conversations.

Time is about breathing,
and laughing, and weeping,
but mostly,
It is about love.

A Love I can not always touch,
A Love I can not hold at will,
A Love I watch weakened by losses,
A Love I crave with all my being.

The sunsets come and go,
The flowers bloom with fierce glory,
My blueberries hang heavy on the branch,
And I seek to dull the ache in my heart.

Why?   Why not embrace the pain?
Why not let it motivate?
Why not let ache and desire push me...
Rather than drag me like a dead worm on a hook?

While in labor, I did not sleep.
The sheer unadulterated agony made me vigilant.
Nothing would stop me from holding my baby,
Nothing less than death, at least.

Life, Death, Pain, Love-
These are the walls of our reality.
Kisses, tears, laughter, friendship,
These are the threads that cover our being.

Cover me in kisses, and tears.
Wrap me up in your friendship and laughter.
Help me utilize the fire of my pain,
As I dump these ashes and tend to my soul.

-Cora Blue

Breathe

Today was an odd day-
After an ice storm, and a quick trip to Savannah for an expo- and meeting wonderful people and having a marvelous time...this afternoon I found my self weeping in the car all the way home from work.
I think they call it "let-down".
I am on the verge of doing big things with the company I work for.  I am about to buy MY own home in the middle of a beautiful forest.  My daughter has been very sick- but I think we have it narrowed down to gallstones and kidney stones (poor kid- both at once!).   My divorce was final in December.  My mom's birthday is on Monday and the ache I have over missing her is really beyond description.
I have multiple story ideas for children's books bubbling and shouting for attention in the back of my mind, but all I can focus on now is writing contracts for new clients, and working with corporations for their business, and trying to come up with an extra 5k for closing on my home.  (Money is coming, but tied up in the courts at the moment.)
Sigh.
Add to this my heart...someone I love beyond description is under an enormous burden.  I want to swoop in and fix what can not be fixed, heal what can not be healed, and add love to a heart over come with grief.   His heart is like a sponge filled to the brim- and it just can't absorb too much more.
My love for him is like nothing I've experienced in a long long time.

My life is kind of like a central train station.   Engines and carts are being moved into place, but nothing is coupled yet.  I have at least 12 things which need to connect- and they are coming together, but for now- all feels like chaos.
I don't like chaos.
I remember reading about it in Paradise Lost- "Chaos rules a realm of confusion on the edges of Hell"
Yes...that is the place where I reside at the moment.  It is as unlovely as it sounds.
Sigh.   The smart thing to do is keep my head down, like the work horse I am, and keep moving forward.  Plowing the field until all that needs to be done is completed.   The desire of my heart is to skip out to the beach for the next 12 days and sit in the sun- and at this time of year it's pretty cold unless I am going to florida.   Or the caribbean.  (my imagination is getting expensive!)
Or just stop.
Being still is not easy for me...
Which is why I have some sneaking suspicion that is what I am actually supposed to be doing.
Kind of like the end of a yoga class- where we all lay down on our mats and breathe.   No matter what poses we did, or how hard they were for me to conform to...that last 5 to 10 minutes of being still is the biggest challenge.   And the best reward.
Everything is going to work out.   The money will come.   The house will be mine.   I will be on 5 acres of heaven in a place no one can find me unless I give them the address.   I will pause, and unpack, and shift my mindset to my books- but right now I am on a pitiful boat carrying me across the sea of confusion and near the edge of hell- white knuckling my journey all the way.   What I should be doing is laying down, and remembering how to breathe.  
Why is that so difficult?
My daughter texts me every now and then and simply says..."Breathe mom...breathe."

She knows me so well.
♥

Yellow StarThistle...part II

Yet, as she towered over me...smirking, all I could say was,

"But he didn't break my heart.   He Marked it.   He changed it.  He reminded me of how it feels to be loved".
She immediately diminished in size by a third.
Eye to eye- facing what was really a demon of sorts which I had left to grow and mature on the manure of regret and sorrow in the fields of my own soul- I realized I could manage this weed.

I asked her, "Does anyone walk away from an encounter with the divine and remain unchanged?"
She shuddered.   I asked, "What is the first thing the divine always says?  FEAR NOT!".
Why?   Because they are too wonderful, too profound, too glorious for us to understand without collapsing with fear."

The weed began to turn brown and shrivel.

By now- I am towering over her...shouting "How dare you try to corrupt something made only from love?   How dare I allow you to take root and suffocate the flowers in my garden heart?!  How dare you tarnish my memories of him with your slander and lies?!!!"

She could barely whisper, "What about your pain?  What about your loss?  What about the void he left in your life?"

"GRIEF!"  I shouted, "Is a LOVE word!"

With a shudder and a tiny whimper the prickly monster fully wilted and collapsed.
***********

Weeds are interesting creatures.   Their roots can go deep and lie dormant for a very long time.  Roots have to be pulled up and burned.   Even part of one left behind can cause problems in the future.   Keeping a vigilant eye on the garden is necessary even when it appears there is nothing untoward lurking in the ground.  

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

That beautiful man peeks in on me every now and again.  His love is real and so is his beauty.  When I see him or hear him he still makes my heart flutter.   I am drawn to him like a moth to a flame, except this flame will not burn me...it simply bathes me in light and reflects his goodness and love.

Yes, my heart was marked, and he is not capable of breaking it.
His graceful ways and thoughtful words, in the midst of his own burdens and struggles, are fresh air and sunshine to my heart.
To paraphrase an old movie, "He makes me want to be a better woman".

Which is precisely what one would expect in an encounter with the divine.

♥♥♥

David...by Michelangelo

Yellow StarThistle

He was simply the most beautiful creature I had ever heard or seen in my life. I can compare him to none I have met before or since.

His voice reached the interior of my soul first. It was perfect. No accent, no nasal quality, but pure, manly deep but not overly so, like a perfect merlot- full, mellow, with notes of music and romance. The mere sound of his voice wrapped and filled me with comfort and bliss.

His skin was flawless, ringlets behaved in his precisely cut hairstyle, his Italian nose was both classic and perfection, teeth straight and bright, a smile so warm and welcoming one couldn’t help but feel taken in by it. The dimple I discovered when he smiled and the closely trimmed beard which was beginning to turn white made me come completely undone. He was absolutely divine.

Acutely aware of his infectious charm he perched behind a casual façade- as if to dim some of his own brilliance.  His self confidence was mesmerising. 
He carried it within him the way a mother carries a new babe in the womb- surely and deeply. His glow was undeniable.

He didn’t walk into a room like other people do, he was fluid, I would almost say he glided. There was nothing ungainly about his steps or his movements. Everything he did, from opening the car door, to washing a dish, to cooking a turkey was done in such a way I would have sworn it had been rehearsed. Never once did I see him flustered or shaken. Even in dealing with a hysterical woman, he was calm and unruffled. He was ever as tranquil and beautiful as a still lake at sunrise.

I loved him urgently, swiftly, and completely, though I was warned, “That man will break your heart.” I paid no heed, but a minuscule seed of worry was sown into my inner core and quickly forgotten. A seed, much like a weed, which began to take deep roots before I ever noticed its tiny shoots on the surface of my garden heart.  That weed much like kudzu, was impossible and fruit less.

He made love to me like I was the only woman in existence. I felt I was his angel, yet knowing full well I am much closer to the type described as Hobbit folk. The passion, the laughter, the shared stories and the way we reveled in each other was sublime. Our time together was too short. One of us was always having to leave, and the distance between us was bothersome and painful to me, but he took it all in stride. I took his self-confidence to mean he was sure of us, of our connection. Our interactions were not casual...though there were languid moments of delight, and sparkling ones of laughter.

His gifts were utterly unique, thoughtful, and timely. A jar with favorite chocolates and hand written love notes for my birthday.  Flowers for my arrival- pink, my favorite color rose. Music filled his house. Beloved tunes of his previous life, and new ones picked out for me. Dancing for no reason-except to dance and hold the person you love closely. Sunsets and moonlight and shooting stars were ours, and nothing was impossible when I was with him. No harm would come to me while in his embrace.

And then…

In one fell swoop I lost him. My divine being withdrew his wings and pulled away swiftly…almost as swiftly as I fell in love with him. A responsibility as big as keeping the moon in orbit fell upon him; and while fearless in his new role, he was unable to hold on to me. With grace, yet determination, he cut the tie he’d bound me with- never suspecting he’d also severed the cords of my heart.

I bled profusely. I wept like a little lost child in the middle of dirty Calcutta. I crumpled and fell to the ground like a used Kleenex, and my world was filled with searing pain. I searched my heart. Was there no way I could assist? No use for me in his new role? Couldn’t I remain attached as a cheerleader, or a bringer of dinner or flowers?

Ahhh…flowers. 
As I looked inwards- there it was, the Weed. 
It was so big and thorny and overgrown there was room for little else. It grew with rapid speed and complete destruction without the divine to keep it in check. It stood tall and stared back at me when I faced it. Internally she towered over me. She was as frightening as my lover had been beautiful. 

Without eyes and tilting her yellow head somehow she smirked at me.

Her words echoed in my gut, “That man will break your heart”.

Dante's Inferno- LOVE

Love is more unitive than knowledge in seeking the THING, not the THINGS reason; :Love is bent on finding a real union- though this can only be constituted by knowledge.

Love wants to find the thing that is tactile.  Love wants what it can put it's heart, and hands, and lips on.  It wants warm flesh, and a knowing smile, and soft sheets, passion, and laughter when all is said and done.


According to Dante-
The effects of love are enumerated as "such":
*  Reciprocal abiding - together by choice
* Mutua Inhaesio-  mutual indwelling
* Of lover and beloved together
* a transplant- "out of the self into the other"
* ardent cherishing of each other- with zeal  (was Dante a woman or what?)
* a melting- liquefaction- so that the heart is unfrozen and open to be entered
*  a longing in absence
* heat in pursuit- fervor
*  AND enjoyment in presence..fruitito

Then...what of fear?
And honestly, this is where I have fallen short...fallen short of fear because there was never any need- and yet, now there is.

"Without the discipline of service and obedience, fear remains formal and does not spread over the whole known reality of existence."

As a kid I knew all too well if mom or dad threatened corporal punishment it would come surely and swiftly.   I abided by my word out of the fear of what they would do to me if I lied.   Being untruthful was a magnificent sin in my little world.
Once I expanded beyond my little world- I realised that lies were something people did every day- with no remorse- and no consequences.

Yet- as I age- I fall back into the undeniable value of trust, and truth, and being who I say I am.   Even if I admit to being faulty, or broken, or  blonde (flighty) at times.

In this moment I am alone.   There is no one to call (with more authority than me) if I end up in a rough place.   My kids, my siblings- my friends, all still look to me.   I am Mom, and the Eldest, and a pillar to most people who know me.

In love...what I long for and want to offer- is shelter.

Not necessarily a place to lay your head (though that would be fine)- but a place to lay your heart.  A place, like a manger, where the most important being in the world (to me) can rest his sleepy head.
And wake up feeling new- and strong- and awesome.
Mostly because my Love found it's union- and my wisdom could attest to my loves finding.
-CRB
 9-26-15

New day

"Wisdom trumps feelings."

-Cora Blue


without a doubt- this is true.  

Enough

.

The moment you doubt in yourself,
The moment you give way to another-
The moment your happiness depends on ___?
Is the moment you fail altogether.

In this landscape of broken dreams,
Is the moment you see WHO you are,
Beautiful, ugly, perfect, or shattered-
A planet, or a fallen star....

The sweet moon shines on me tonight-
Forgiving all of my imperfections-
I glow in the thought- of maybe just maybe,
I AM my own version of heaven....

IF I smile at each fear, IF I welcome each change,
IF I step out in faith when I must-
Love will find me- love will bind me,
And love- of myself- will be simply enough.

-CRB  9.2.15

Stuff from a long time ago...

I forgot about this place...
http://maydenpersona.blogspot.com/

:)  Fun to look back and remember ♥

Lifetime

A lifetime she said,
Slowly turning her head,
And smiled at the man of her heart.
Whatever is left, we'll make it the best,
Each morning we'll kiss at the start♡

A lifetime she whispered,
Forgetting all winters,
Only thinking of spring-
Of flowers in bloom, while honeybees zoom,

 and the man who made her heart sing.

A lifetime can be lived in a moment,
Or it can span 100 years,
Millions of seconds of joy and pain,
Of laughter, learning, and tears.

"A lifetime", he whispered, and nodded his head,

 while holding the one he loved so-
I've waited long- you are my hearts favorite song,
For a lifetime, I'll never let go.

CRB

Comfort, Illness, and transparency

In my earliest memories of being sick as a child- my mom was always present, and ever providing comfort.   She held my hair while I hugged a trash can, brought a cool towel for my face and forehead, and poured a tiny glass full of ice and cola for me to take tiny sips from.  Her care was equally diligent for a bad cold, or a an injured limb- she was present and she was helpful.

This week I suffered from a terrible bout of food poisoning.  It was most likely the norovirus, which has a quick and violent beginning, and leaves the the body weak and drained.   Re-hydration is tricky because you don't want to do ANYTHING to trigger the retching again.  Mom's advice about tiny sips echoed through my head multiple times.  It was good advice then, and it is good advice now.

Aside from the unfortunate realtor who came by to show the house I am living in (while I was on all fours in the bathroom over a rug thinking I would cough up my liver)- I battled this illness alone.   No husband hiding on the other side of the bathroom door...no kids asking me if I wanted tea.
No Mom to hold my hair, or reassure me I would survive, or laugh at me when I said out loud "At least the Ebola patients get to die after a few days!"
But, she was there in spirit.
For several hours I was praying I could join her in heaven, but it all passed (no pun intended!), and I came out of the ordeal several pounds lighter and had a new appreciation for suffering alone.  In one way it was a relief no one was around.  I was a disaster.  In another way it was enlightening...to be in pain, unafraid, but helpless and kind of seeing myself in a pure form- because no one else was there- I didn't have to be concerned with their reaction to my misery.  
I suppose we have all tried to put up a good front for people we don't want to worry with our pain (unless you are a man- and then nevermind.  I have never met a man who wasn't a complete and total baby when he was sick!)
Anyway, back to mom.   I think she was probably the last person with whom I was totally transparent.   The only person I have ever trusted enough with all of me not to run away shuddering at what was inside.  

I want that again.   Obviously I can't have my mom back, but I do wonder if there is another soul on the planet I can fully trust with my heart, and my guts, and my thoughts.  I hope so.
However, even then...I don't want them too close if I get food poisoning again.  
Some things are simply better left unseen, unheard, and unknown.

:)

Blast from the past

I probably shouldn't post this again, but it seemed to be a fitting way to end this year- with a joke :)
 (This video is at least 6 or 7 years old!)
Next year is a new ball game, and I am in it to play and play hard!
And I'll try to come up with a better joke :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpdPo9FD3LI

Reasons or Results?

I'm tired of all the reasons, which is why I don't have the results I want.  Need.  REQUIRE!
Time to compile my first book...
Past time.
Last night I went to a writers conference, and several of the members I had met over a year ago and they were "planning, thinking, chewing on, dancing around"...writing their books.  Those people are published now.

I am published in multiple forums and in Europe.  Not all writers need to write a book, but my mom definitely expected me to publish one.  Actually, I think she expected me to publish many books.  One of the ladies I met, Lee, has always reminded me of my mom.  Last night, with all the beauty and kindness of her spirit- she pulled me aside and said, "Cora- where is your book?"
I bit my lip a tad because for a split second it wasn't Lee who was asking me...
It was MOM who was asking.

In truth, the book is already written.  I just have to put it together/edit/and publish it.  I will self publish- it's definitely the way to go in the beginning.  I'm not a new author (lol...getting a bit too old to be new at much of anything these days! :), but a new "book author" is within sight.

It's funny- someone reminded me of the first paper I ever wrote in Creative Writing when I was 8. I wrote about Aliens and meeting one, and how nice they were (though they were very different), and it was such a happy little story.  My teacher was very surprised.  I didn't know why.  Now, as I think of the 8 yr old little girls I know- it would surprise me a little to discover one was writing a genre which mostly consisted of older male writers.  This was back in 1977.   (Carl Sagan did not have much influence in my life, but maybe more than I realized?)

Anyway...the TIME IS WRITE-
and I am expecting better than reasonable results :)

I made the news again :)

http://www.newsobserver.com/.../ask-the-experts-company... news article...