Patience with others does not easily extend to myself.
After all, I am supposed to be the “master of my own destiny.”
So messaging geared toward dividing us from bonding and being intercooperative with loved ones and family tells me.
I would wear a foil hat if it would stop the signals being blasted and received.
Betrayal by those deemed closest is like a jagged knife thrust deep into the gut, rough-edged by rust – and poisonous.
Why now does the weight fall even more upon me, heavy-handed and causing such unhappiness, when I ought to be feeling redeemed by accomplishing our relocation?
I must face this with grace and dignity, realizing it has its deemed positives and “negatives” – for man is apparently easily intimidated, instead of content to rule as an equal, beside me.
My fuel is vision
Ignited by faith
Creating such fusion
To propel a new age.
I did not complain, and have not complained, for setting my own interests aside for others. I have valued partnership’s love and commitment with devotion to family, and my children getting what they have needed.
But, these pursuits did not extend easy space for my own progressing to the degree I would have benefitted from. I have fought for this sacred space and felt persecuted for it. Lack of support and others’ derision has accumulated too much toxic self doubt regarding if having my dreams is valid.
I spoke by text today with a friendly woman in Algeria. She was well spoken in French, Arabic, and Berber. I want to relearn Spanish, and learn Italian, French, and Arabic. I suppose I will also need to learn German, but from past family experiences, I have some negative association.
I have found in my brief traveling through France, Germany, and Egypt that people located near the Mediterranean know several languages. This is a higher level of communication taught to them, valued and expected because they are near so many different cultures.
It has chafed my pride that Europeans see Americans as ignorant. I cannot speak well of many of our foreign nor internal policies – but, usually, whomever is in charge of running our country does not represent me. Policies are passed to keep our citizens dumb and compliant so that we may be used as corporate market feed or military numbers to promote political agendas. Higher education, for quite some time, was portioned only for the wealthy and elite.
In my time line, I have accomplished great things that others would not have expected, nor accepted as possible, and have had applicable, intuitive vision. As example, I forsaw Marine Biology and Sustainability being needed in Central Coast education, but was dissuaded from pursuing this direction by professors because my vision lacked proof’s verification. I was ten years ahead of Cal Poly’s now adjusting to mainstream.
As I arrive to current civilization’s location, it turns out to have evolved parallel to me. What I struggled to access before is now offered more freely – yet, still barred to me, financially. Having expended all grants and loans to fashion a path where none before existed, I cannot even access funds to finish my degree of only 12 more units at an accredited college online that allows me to design my own degree, incorporating most of my prior learning.
Now that I’ve been cast again into poverty, I might qualify for aid from a community program to finish locally, but this will likely set me back in years and cost to achieve, as the trend upon transferring a degree in-progress to a new university or state college adds requirement of around 25 of their own units to confer their degree.
One unit x $500. The math is not in my favor for completing, The agency might get me going, but I could be stuck without ability to complete again, even father along the journey.
i have only ONE semester full-time left to finish my degree, but not the free time or money as yet to create this reality. I cannot compete for most jobs without a Bachelor’s, and it is required to teach English professionally along standard lines of inquiry (thus, my loophole will be tutoring independently). It’s an equation I’m still working, which hinges upon having any real sense of “security” to complete.
Returning to the subject of language, here in America, we were “forced” to learn one only to graduate. Despite my efforts to try and connect dots, there would be no basis at the time for continuing this education unless one planned to travel abroad.
This was late 1980s to early 1990s, of course, before the internet connected us all more easily to people across the world, and before inter-cultural exchanging of students (for example) became more prevalent.
I had chosen to learn Spanish in hopes I could speak with my best friend’s family and partake in her culture, but their language was classic and street Mexican – what I was being taught was classic Spanish from Spain, which had little local applications!
I have envied people’s opportunities in other countries for multi-language discourse, and have felt ignorant – though not by choice – as they’ve seemed so well spoken, while American heritage seemed bent on holding those of us with higher intellect and ideals down to rote course.
If there was no local work for one’s educational interest, you were strongly dissuaded from it and met barriers. Wanting to travel abroad and learn multiple languages was seen as a pure waste of time, reserved for the upper class echelon.
How many times have I been held down and/or pushed aside because I did not have a special pre-stamp of approval? How many times did I keep going forward on my own path despite continuous counter-resistance? And now, my “age” plays into it, as life experience is still not valued here in “the States” as it should be.
It is no wonder that I arrive here confused and heartbroken. My life has been a rough journey, with only passing friends waving. No one could really join up with me, for where I have been going has never matched up with others for very long. I have been unable to identify with many.
I have always been riding that edge of succeeding or failing, precariously balanced on an unpredictable precipice with disruptive winds too ready to blow.
As I assess options, no longer sure what to believe in, I do not see clearly in which direction to go. I am a creative artist and visionary, a lover of romanticism, an in-process linguist, and many more definitions already seen and yet to be shown.
I’m what they call a definite “life learner.”
Tell me: what may I rely upon?
Memories return as I wear the ring.
Once long repressed, they now flood my system.
Yet, still, having it on strengthens me.
Is re-experiencing part of the healing process?
Or is this just taking account of grief from great loss to my fragile sense of family?
I seem to forget that I am capable – until I prove it to myself, once again.
What would it mean if you and I were of the same?
So many levels of ascendency have I acquired, to find myself merely at a new beginning – yet again.
Sitting on the rim of this loophole, looking down at the stories below, where reside “foes” and friends.
How far does this skyscraper go to reach the top?
Nobody around me kens.
On one hand, I completely accept myself because I know I am valuable and valid.
It’s when I imagine anyone else’s potentially skewed view of me that things run a bit pallid.
Why does this even matter – am I needing to honor every person’s point of view?
Or is this just some back door way around logic that my inner critic has constructed?
I generally know why and how this has happened, and I’m vexed that with such awareness all along I could not prevent effects.
How do I unravel this spell that’s come over me?
There is something in actively seeking that which is rarely sought: a knowing that the “impossible” is not something easily bought.
In the space of deepest silence between here and arriving there, thought reveals its fallacies and the ego is laid bare.
Applied to any mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, and spacial relativity level is key to discovering what will make and keep one’s self vital.
I would like to find a backup alarm clock that plays “To dream the impossible dream” as it wakes me.
Are there clocks that can be programmed to different songs, according to one’s latest preferences?
I flee from other suitors
To keep my purpose safe
And mind unconscripted.
Something in your manner
That I can feel at distance
Reassures my continuance.
I have lost myself more
Than can proudly count
To much weakened folly.
As they tempt promises,
What you represent to me
Keeps my identity centered.
Is it better for you that I remain as a muse, rather than a vital, manifesting woman in love with you?
You and as He,
In my favorite forms,
Were in my dreams last night.
We spoke together
While our hands touched:
Everything in our world was bright.
You see, I have been reaching for a vision, thinking along my travels that I would meet, co-inspire, and collaborate with others.
But, chance encounters have remained brief, and as many redefine their places in life, they prefer a dream to their own awakening.
I have watched you from afar as you grew from child to man. I have seen your awareness dawning as you strive to comprehend.
I love you more for this – for daring to take a stand while showing kindness and concern for all those placed within your competent hands.
I dreamed I was driving along an open highway where traffic was sparse and scenes were in open countryside, still attached to city life and nearby to the ocean.
The colors were pure with depths rarely seen before – the kind maybe you would catch on part of a photograph, except everywhere this color in plants and atmosphere breathed life into the air.
I suddenly felt such an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness, I just threw my arms open wide when I pulled over, and beamed a huge smile of contentment as I let my eyelids relax to heavy lidded slits as all stress melted away.
I had come to a fairgound where events were underway, and had parked my car in a designated lot not far from where entrance lines were progressing.
But, instead of going in with the attendants, I sought a large climbing tree situated next to a whitewashed wall around a corner, in the shade, where I could have some privacy.
As I climbed upward to perch in the crook of great limbs, large robbins came to investigate and sing next to me as they went about their foraging.
They had black backs and red along their fronts, but they also had large black spots all over their chest and tummies, which I thought odd and amazing.
Soon, a large, brown bull meandered underneath to where my feet were hanging down, and lifted its head to sniff up at me.
He was so male and powerful, I felt he was a bit intimidating, so I only let him snuffle my feet where I could retract them quickly behind the safety of a branch above him, if needed.
I felt welcomed by the tree and animals more so directly than I have ever experienced in life or dreams, and it was as if they already knew me.
If he ignored her and kept making excuses, then he didn’t have to show up for himself.
You would likely not find me directly competing with anyone, for I do not like the stress.
I would likely fashion myself a position of collaboration or supportive supplement.
Strategists say if you want to get noticed, you must market yourself.
I am then the “product” – but, I am not for sale.
Within hierarchical corporations, any place where one could seek an already substantiated career, office staff and leaders are always jockeying for status and reverence.
I am not interested in being targeted as someone to knock off of their “ladder” as they conquest.
I take my efforts and gains very seriously. They are a part of me that are not negotiable to treachery
A Youtube link appeared, claiming that once-neglected children grow up tending to have a romanticized need for attachment.
Magazine articles and psychological professionals state that what those who are lacking in reciprocated love need to do is to stay active
No.
They are taking advantage of a truth and spinning it to avoid responsibility.
For as long as we stay divided and “conquered,” it’s to them and the product they are selling that they hope to conscript our attention.
It is not bad or wrong to have an imagination’s creative focus attuned to seeking that positivity of deep pair bonding which may have eluded.
It is not bad or wrong for a person to say that finding their true love would be their healing’s solution.
The screaming infant could be heard by hotel guests to any side of the unit in the wee hours of a.m.
Despite my earplugs, its resonating cries pierced through wall and mattress along distressed currents.
I tried to have patience as heard its parents scrambling to find any remedy – conscious it was disturbing, while panicking to calm it.
I sensed she was a girl, though never gained confirmation.
It seemed she was desolate in her pain’s desperation.
I wracked my brain for what I could say to her, if we could link telepathically, then sent out from soul and body: “You are not alone.”
To my surprise, her crying at last subsided.
When one overstacks their schedule, there is no time to contemplate what their life is missing, nor space to feel the emptiness inside they can no longer hide.
I lost my stride today.
Once settled in pj’s for the day and resolute I’d not be leaving, I got caught up in disfunctionality of the dog yard where still have not gained chips
Thusly, I set out on a dashed quest to obtain them before sunset at a location where promised.
But, I found said pile was a rubbished mud mass in slick tracks on a windswept, frozen expanse sure to mire car and bog bagging.
The dump didn’t have any, either, and the sun had set. On the way home, I bought $10 worth of gas and gave the serviceman my last two ones for a tip.
Spun out on a dead-end mission – and inside wants to throw a snit!
Look close to lower left.
Once I have withdrawn enough, will I again expand?
When and how much is “enough?”
What ratio amends?
After a lifetime of fashioning it from thin air and expending, it makes sense I would now feel tired.
My employment is physical and requires concentrated output endurance, including focused mental clarity to ensure I enact it properly.
I must take my own advice and no longer drive myself so hard in everything.
What would it be like to allow myself space for recovery?
Water, though it may be contained, has no master.
It is its own base reasoning, capable of being in simple state to transforming enigmatic.
When there are cracks in any reason’s foundation, it seeks the weakness and breaks through constructed boundaries.
Having explored material dimensions, it then returns to origin.
When I shine brightly, I must give it to the people of the streets, to those most in need, to clients undergoing healing, to a friendly passerby who needs relief.
Then, I am a shooting star, pointing to the way with light guiding them.
I am seen as a spark of Hope to help them when they had yet found no one.
But, when I’ve presented honestly to peers of rank or equal “status,” often they’ve sought to undermine my efforts out of jealousy, fear, or malice.
Turning fantastic imagination into productive reality.
I now wear the ring she gave to me.
It’s the one material possession I have of any value – magnified because it was given by a discerning heart which allowed itself to have faith in me.
Our matriarch knew very little about my depths, but we connected on our core family values.
We understood what was important, and we partnered to ensure our family was strong and staying healthy.
Two women 70 years apart in our lifetimes of experience, joined by a common vision.
Dazzling light of dynamic energy reflects outward in all directions from faceted diamonds as I gaze upon it, thinking about that life and how it was stripped from me – how I was cast to the streets and stoned, as if I’d been a diseased beggar now seen as pariah.
How do you wash a taint like that from your system? How does one soothe their own soul as it keens?
My threadbare clothing or the uniform I wear, the pair of nice pants and two shirts of business flare…
Somehow, with these tatters, I must redefine me.
First eve of work!
No muss.
No fuss.
No drama.
No llama!
(“Caaaaarrrrlll!”)
Gotta “beat feet!”
When I had the nonprofit up and running to help our local community find a common middle point regarding where to put a contentiously-issued sewer, one of our members was getting into sustainable landscaping.
During this time, the cormorants had decided that the Monterey Pines along where our family’s matriarch resided were the perfect places for their evening nesting grounds.
Soon, the toxic fume buildup of their droppings became a health hazard for her, for her home was filled with the stench. Not even air filters could help her breath easier.
Because the trees were now also drenched in high protein sticky fish waste as ammonia was destroying the foliage, it was decided the tall and ages old, once gorgeous trees had to be chopped down.
Once the birds moved on for having lost their perches, there was nothing left of our matriarch’s once beautiful seaside-view garden.
I knew that she didn’t have long to be with us and wanted to restore the lovely garden immediately so that she could enjoy her last days gazing upon lush greenery while viewing ocean sunrises and sunsets.
I envisioned her large jasmine bush and other flowers being restored, and was granted the boon of being able to arrange the sustainable landscaper coming out to assist with this.
We walked the property and I told him what I wanted. What he provided was his own vision, with different plants – and small ones at that: sparse and on a laid bare drip system, expected to take years to mature before we’d see any flowers.
I was devastated, as this had been the one thing I was given a chance to do for our matriarch, and she was so upset that the funds had been wasted, and I hated that her expectations had been set up, then disappointed.
I was not allowed to correct the situation, and I later discovered that the family suspected I’d been having an affair with the man and thus had gotten him the job to swindle for him the $600 he’d been paid!
My speaking with him on the phone at our matriarch’s house had been the first time she and her housekeeper had heard me sound professional with a confident voice and engaging demeanor.
They’d never witnessed me in my prime business presentation mode because there was never room for me to show this, when my role with them had always been to play the diminutive wife and attendant to her disabled grandson.
So, because I had charisma and charm, after all, the housekeeper spun rumors against me with my sister-in-law.
After my years of proven devotion to our family, and this failed attempt to provide something beautiful for our matriarch, there was no gain – only loss and slanderous shame – for my attempt to create something wonderful to brighten her remaining days.
Candid Corvid Productions 