...quiet, about a lot of things...

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Symbols and Seasons

The fall is here. The leaves are starting to change. The surrendered ones skip across my drive way and lawn. The mornings are crisp. The sun is tired of it's long work day, and calls it quits earlier and earlier. I can easily understand this. I get weary too.

October is my birth month. It's right around the corner. I'm attending my 25th High school reunion. Haven't seen some of these girls in 25 years. We had a small graduating class..48 in all. I usually would avoid Pasadena, and reminiscing..but I decided, if not now, When?

I will also meet a friend, I've never met. That should be very interesting.

In the middle of the month, right after my 43rd birthday, I will take Rachel and her close friend on College Tour: The Northern CA Edition. We will tour Stanford, Berkeley, St. Mary's and Santa Clara.

I will have lunch with a boy. With whom I lost my virginity.

It's going to be a full month.

The first snow will come. The sweaters will move from back to front. I will move inside, in my thoughts, in my mood and in my riding. Better gallop now, while I can. Months of indoor arenas are ahead.

As if to signal this change, I wanted to do something different. Something that would remind me that it is all just part of this wonderful life. The wonderful endless dying and birthing, changing and remaining...life.

I think I'm smack in the middle now...so I wanted find something represent that. Physically.

And this is what I came up with....



I am now a tattooed lady. It makes me giggle.
posted by wendy at 11:30 AM 6 comments

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

The Pressures of Being a Girl

Rachel was born a small opinionated woman. She has never been a girl. In the Girly girl sense of the word. This is both good and bad. She has always been awfully serious. My in laws found this odd. They thought serious = sad. I knew very early on, serious = thoughtful. She did all those silly things that girls do. Dressed up as a princess...Liked the Backstreet Boys....wobbled on high heels.

But it is as if she never fully bought into it ....She knew she never would be defined by her girlish-ness. She hasn't ever bothered with P O P U L A R. Now I'm not saying that she doesn't notice. She just doesn't surrender to it.

Being smart on the other hand..has always been vitally important to her. She's a goal oriented chic. She has put her head and heart into her studies. She will get into a top tier college. She will rock the world.

Yet today, she came home in tears, because she may not be picked to be Sandy in her Senior musical GREASE. She has been able to work to get every goal she has ever set her mind to. Disappointment does not sit well with her. It's hard to get her to believe, that despite best efforts, one doe not always get every thing one wants.


Maggie on the other hand...is Girl Drama personified. But does this shield her?No, not really at all. See, she buys what they are selling. She'd buy popular in every single color if she could get her hands on it. But, still, it alludes her...She does not have the chops yet. I have no chops at all..so she's had a delayed education.


She made a pact with one of her friends; to go to homecoming together. A really sane decision for girls that age...But of course, the friend got asked by a boy..so Mags was out....Tears fell. Feelings were hurt.

Maggie now has a date. Some non-special boy..who is a friend...and fills the roll of requisite "Date" well. She has fallen in line...marching to the tune of these wild reckless girl. She feels the pressure.

This makes me sad...for both of them. Rach may never get the leading blond role she wants. Maggie, haven been given that role by birth....May let it define her...for a very long time.

I don't know which disturbs me more.....
posted by wendy at 4:51 PM 2 comments

Sunday, September 23, 2007

My Name Is....for Sunday Scribblings

A reprint of my odd relation to forming my own name...Beyond that...I am, what, and who I am.....



I stutter. Not so much now..but when I'm nervous. A lot when I was a kid. I was a wicked smart kid.. with tons to say...and a broken reed that filled my mouth.

Updated..Fri...trying for a new title including the line from the above set up description. Thanks for the feedback.


A Broken Reed

A broken reed filled my mouth.
Was God playing a trick?

For instead of calling me
Heather or Hildey or Helen,
He planted his seed of naming
deep my mothers dreams.


Even now, I pause to
breath, before I say it.
Conscious everytime I voice
the answer aloud. People,
only have so much patience.
It's a simple question, for
God Sakes!

So for God's
sake, I quell the panic.
I soothe the bile.
Breath in through my nose.
Poised, as if on
pointed
balanced
perfect
pink toes,
I utter

"Wendy."

I try for effortless.
I often twirl, afterwards.
a diversion of glitter
to break
the silence.

I listen
for applause.
The always willing
jester, telling
an inside joke
to God.

wlf 8:30am


Heading to read over at Sunday Scribblings
posted by wendy at 10:00 AM 9 comments

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Someone Elses Prompt....

pause

nothing good
starts with a
pause

with an instant
to steel or steady
to reason or reckon

nothing: no thing
good waits.

See, good plunges
forward.

like a
falling fool

like a puppy
without breaks.

like a
full frontal
hard -pressing -firmly
intent on a thigh.

good can't
take time
to breathe
let alone
think.

Such is
this rapid
fire we call
good.


wlf 1:51



Killing two birds with one stone...and after all, it is Thursday......and everyones over at jilly's
posted by wendy at 1:46 PM 8 comments

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Really, Am I That Transparent?

I'm "going to ground" today. Sorta duck and cover...or hide and don't seek. In other words( my daughters' words..and husband's for that matter..)IN THE CAVE.

I tend to coast along for a bit in life and then get bored. So I make a nice little obstacle course for myself, adding healthy amounts of delusion and petrified fear as I design the labyrinth. Really, who are we kidding?...WE are the only ones who really can create the mazes, the haunted houses, that scare the living sh@t right out of us.

So anyway, I've been bored, restless more succinctly, lately...so I have been doing a bit of mental construction and heavy lifting. I've managed to breath life into quite a beautiful mess o'rama. Lots of phobias and past "issues" to deal with in the coming months. Should be fun, once I get my nerve up, and time pushes me right up to the ledge...and forces me to jump...

But right now, I'm in my hunkered down mode...all tense and ready to spring. I always go through this phase alone, as it is not very pretty to watch. As a distraction, I preen a bit, picking at nits or taking dumb personality tests.

The thing is...these stupid tests are almost always right...Freaks me out...so far, I agree that:

-I need to work on my root and my solar plexes chakras. (This being association with my physical self and my power with others...I just learned this. Don't snicker)But a big CHECK!!

-I am an existential thinker. That I think I make my own reality. (see above for verification...)CHECK!!

-My seduction style is that of philosopher. Yep. Been told that. Bunches. Have also been told to "Shut Up..and just Kiss me." Matter of fact..quite recently...so
CHECK!!.

I answer these quizzes earnestly. Really, the answers are so easy...who would dare to think differently...Oh, I know I'm just avoiding that lovely little mental jungle gym I've built right over there. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. I do have peripheral vision, silly.

I'm just preparing myself to face it...the only way I know how...by quietly obsessing in a hell..I mean world..I mean cave..of my own making.

This may take a while. But I should be back by tommorrow. There's a sale at TJ Maxx.
posted by wendy at 9:38 AM 2 comments

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The Gift...For writers island.

Gifts are mandatory, in my husband's family. So therefor, I rebel, and don't send them. I give "unbirthday" gifts to all my little..and not so little..nieces and nephews. They are given when I see them face to face. I usually study these kids for a day or two..if we have that luxury of time..and sneak out to get them something that would please them.

Gifts to me are authentic, and spontaneous, not obligatory. Save your obligation for something else, like taxes..or dental cleanings.

I have been known to give Christmas gifts...in August.Those who love me...are totally OK with this. Those who don't love me so much..are offended. They no doubt find me lazy and selfish in my haphazard regard for dates and protocol.

If I have "a gift" for anything..I guess I would say that it's a gift for hearing and telling the truth. Mostly secret truths. Here's an example.

I was at Walgreens, a while back, and the check out girl seemed to be having a bad day. I looked her in the eye..something I do not always do...and asked her if I could help. She gave me a surprisingly frank answer...and I shared some truth from my own life. This was a very unplanned, intimate, real moment in my life. It was an unexpected gift, one I still treasure.

As she handed me my receipt, she said "God Bless You."..and I said.."right back at ya!"


Check out writers island.....
posted by wendy at 9:37 AM 9 comments

Monday, September 17, 2007

Don't You Know That It's Different For Girls.....

Ok boys..(if there are any of you out there...time to cover your eyes..or minds..if this stuff heebes you out).

Having three females in any house is interesting. Having as 14 years old, a 17 year old and an almost 43 year old cohabiting...is down right hysterical!

You all know that women tend to cycle together. I love this phenomena! I've always found so mysterious, and so beautiful. We become fertile together,we begin again, each month, together. The ebb and flow that joins women of like minds and like genes together. We are bound into tribes.

Even as my daughters and I fight and separate into different individual women, we are of this same clan. Women bound not only by titles, of mother, daughter, sibling. We are of the same beginnings, like sister stamens reaching to tickle bees legs. We are life.

I've been the leader of this little song and dance for about 6 years now. Without knowing, my daughters have followed my lead, first Rach, then Mags. Now it seems, I follow theirs. I believe this just started, this month.

What does this mean. They are now the future, while I am still in the game, I suppose, I am going to be the one in the back now, trying hard to keep up.

V-grrrl left a comment for me (in response to this post)

Now what? Now what?

At 45, I'm losing my rhythm, losing my sense that time is on my side, feeling compromised as a woman, and vacillating between thinking that menopause is nature's way of saying I'm obsolete and thinking menopause is nature's way of telling me to take my eyes off care taking and BECOME.

I think there's a post perking in me on this subject.


I really appreciated this comment. She is definitely on the bus!

As I mentioned....I have been taking pregnancy tests. Feeling that confusion...and then, a sort of dread..when the results were negative.

This past weekend, it began. I came home from a wedding in Texas...walked into my house..scared silly,I was missing the beat..but, within 12 hours,I picked up on the rhythm my daughters now control.

I have stopped my days as lead singer...and now hum a soulful harmony in the back round. It happened in the space of a quarter note between the chorus and the last refrain.
posted by wendy at 9:52 AM 5 comments

Thursday, September 13, 2007

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Better Late


I'd to will it
to come.
whisper into the walls
"not yet".

There was no way
I was ready.

I'd pinkie
swear on my honor
oathed to be
a better
girl scout.

next time.
not this time.

I was not prepared
for company.



Now, I linger
at the window
my forehead
seeks glass
to balance
unseen forces.

Still I know
they are at work.


Will it be
like a knock
at the door?
Who's to bring me
an anwser to a prayer
so old, I hardly
recall forming?

(Yes,they were mine.)


No, not death;
just no more life.

On this thin pane,
my fingers
trace circles
that have no
end.




wlf 11:01


Six pregnancy tests, two weeks apart. No pregnancy. But now what?
posted by wendy at 10:51 AM 9 comments

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Writers Island..the Launching

Nice to meet you....I'm Mary Anne.

Now, all joking aside...I couldn't help note the date..and realize it has become just that a date, a memory, not the quick painful stab in the gut it used to be.

I'm getting my hair done today. I wonder how I made that appointment, without pausing.

One look at the pictures, and I'd be back. I'm not a date person. I always forget birthdays and such. But I never forget a face. If I looked the terror in the eyes, it would be fresh in me. As fresh as when I lowered my sleepy self back on the bed and dug my toes into the carpet, to make sure I was not dreaming.

The prompt today was Imaginary Life. I will quote John Lennon...

Imagine
by John Lennon

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one




Good luck to us all on Writers Island
posted by wendy at 9:11 AM 9 comments

Monday, September 10, 2007

Some Posts are Harder Than Others


Margo, my friend.

I'm back from another clinic for the US Equestrian Federation. This one was held in Seattle, at a therapeutic riding center. I had been looking forward to this trip, culminating with the first memorial dressage show honoring my friend Margo.

I met Margo only once. She became my friend instantly. She had been a healthy happy woman of 29, teaching, living and I am sure laughing. Then she had a massive stroke. Her right side was severely affected. Her speech was all but gone. Her life had changed forever.

But instead of giving up, she got on a horse. She changed lives, paradigms and programs. She cried and giggled and grew and thrived for another 30 years.

She was killed,18 months ago, at Christmas time, by a drunk driver.She left one party, and was going on to another. She had her white papillon, her constant companion with her, both dying that night.

In reflection, I realize that she lived half of her life able bodied, and exactly half disabled. This strikes me as oddly balanced.

She and I are (were) both "hemi's". Hemiplegia is a condition where there is paralysis or spasticity in one vertical half of a patient's body. Hers was drastic, mine very minute in comparison.

She could still speak a few words, which she tended to group in threes. When I met her, I assumed she was just another shy, withdrawn disabled person...but I did notice that she smiled a lot...so I gathered my courage...(seems I was was the shy one..not her...)and introduced myself..she grabbed my hand with warmth and camaraderie.

I said things to her over those two days, I rarely said to anyone. Certainly I had never said them to people in my horse world.. Things like I get tired....and frustrated...and that I hate my right side sometimes...I live in a constant state of betrayal and I feel ugly....She was sharp as a tack and had the most empathetic eyes. Those eyes said the things she could not. But she would say.."I know, I know, I know...".Then she would point at my left side...my strong side and say ..."Oh boy, Oh boy, OH BOY!"

I looked at my weakness, she looked at my strength.

I saw her as a glorious giant. She was this enormous magnificent, willful, strong spirit. In physical reality..she was 4'11...and probably 100lbs...tiny..just like me. Maybe that's why, I looked at her and saw myself. But I saw in her the beauty I could not find in myself. She beamed life. Full force. Without apologies.

She became my hero. She will always be my hero.

This last weekend, I rode down center line to honor her. I saluted the Judge at C...and in my heart, I saluted Margo....I will continue to salute her each and every day of my life.
posted by wendy at 6:36 PM 4 comments

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Short and Sweet..

The post..not me...OK..maybe me too.

If it's not one thing, it's another.

That's it. Discuss....and count your blessings!
posted by wendy at 10:46 PM 4 comments

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Overheard

Two 20ish glamazons sit in front of me on a small regional flight from Portland to Seattle. They are in a heated discussion over a possible promotion. Over heard:

Girl 1 "I am sooo much better in person. I mean if they SAW me..I would soooo have that job. The phone interview just blows."

Girl 2 "Well, then get your ass on a plane!"

Girl 1 "But we are talking two hundred dollars!"

Girl 2 "I can spend that in, like, three days."


The flight attendant asks them if they are heading back to school. In disgust Girl 1 answers...

"We are make up artists."

Oh, says the flight attendant..."Do you work in a salon?"

(gasp) "NO! We are Lancome reps...."
(eye roll)

I gaze out the window, feeling old but wise.

I watch them teeter off in high heels,reminding me a bit of dress up.

I stay well behind...in case one of them takes a bad step.
posted by wendy at 11:39 PM 5 comments

Sunday, September 02, 2007

The End..For Sunday Scribblings..and Poetry Thursday

At first I thought they were toying with me. The end has come to Poetry Thursday, for real....When I read the prompt..THE END... for
Sunday Scribblings, I thought ...Just Fantastic. My mother in laws method of breaking a bond.

HUH? you say.

I will explain. My mother in law feels that when it is time for a child "be finished" with something (a bottle, a pacifier, a blankie...) That thing should just vanish in a poof of surprise. Bottle? what bottle?? It's gone. No more bottle. Sure a little emotional scarring will take place..but her feeling is that all wounds heal with time. This explains many nifty little nuances about my husband.

So I thought the web was giving me a rather sudden and vicious gut check.. reminding me of "No Attachments"... when I read the prompt. I felt like Dumbo...with his magic feather. It took him a bit to realize he did not need that feather to fly, even though his friend assured him he did not. "Sunday Scribblings....Meet Poetry Thursday. You are both feathers. Say hello."

But it's just a prompt. And one that ties things up rather neatly for me as Poetry Thursday asks me to post something I am proud of....
Seeing, as just this week, I was introduced to the concepts of others "work shopping" IE revising my work (bloody and messy soul ripping process that it is)....I am feeling no longer proud of any thing. Not ashamed, mind you, just not proud. So since this is a post for two links, I will post two poems.
The first was written when they announced the departure of Poetry Thursday..and fit the Sunday Scribblings prompt well....The second is one I like from earlier on...and speaks to me today. What to do now??? Now that the end has come????


Last Song

At the start
you must
acknowledge
the finish

though the ground
between here
and there seems
vast, and
easily conquered.

You must look
the end in
it's eye.

Be respectful.

Choose to be led,
not chased
towards it.

Pray that
in you greatest
moment of joy
you will
turn around

simply
to find a
soft hand
closing

and a small
breath slowly
stilled.

merely
an instant
shorter
than you
had planned.

wlf




Mating of Weeds

Bring me a fist
full of dandelions, plucked
from the edge of your life.

Let their fuzzy heads bend
under my probing touch.
Smelling only of earth.
Press them into my palm.
Your hand against mine.
Fleshy warm as a greenhouse,
moist with desire.

Let us be poor and in love
with more empty than full.
Ripe with seeds, mostly common,
tugging hard at their seams.


Simple as a glass bottle,
on some worn wooden shelf,
I offer this as vase.
It shows cracks,
but it is sound.
For beginnings,
they weigh next to nothing.


I will muster the strength.
(as the deed has been done)
For there is no stopping this bloom,
once the bloom has begun.

wlf 10:24 thursday

Now go have a look at both of these sites. One is continuing on, the other taking it's final curtain call. I hope you all brought some roses to throw.
posted by wendy at 8:52 AM 11 comments