Altered States

Hyper Sensitivity

The picture of painted pansies had caught my attention, representing that fragile part of myself called “whimsy.”

It’s something that I need to nourish and defend – not something trifling or any longer negotiable.

So when the cashier said that I could not buy it because it had been put out for sale without a price tag and that, therefore, she was not even allowed to hold it for me – of course, I asked to immediately see the manager.

It just made no sense to put it out as a “tease and a taunt” on this day to me.

Luckily, and graciously, the manager saw my point of view, priced it, and allowed me to buy it.

If it isn’t the small injustices that can be fixed, what hope is there for the greater issues that our world is facing?!

Altered States

To Her

“I don’t know what to do to save my situation.

All I know is to Just Start Working.

Maybe, just like you would have.

Funny, for all of our differences, how perhaps so much we were alike in belief’s core foundations.

Help me.

I need your guidance – like at the graveyard where needed truth was revealed, thus enlightening.

Am I missing something important, here?

Or am I “on the right track” and “doing the right things” toward my own next levels of “greatness.”

I cannot tell and do not trust easily.

I feel disoriented and clumsy

You know why.

You’ve seen what’s happened to me.

Yet, I must shake out this shroud of jaded memories so that it smooths down gently around me.

I must become something more – yet again – than I was before.

Perhaps for you, too, it was never easy.”

Altered States

Beloved Matriarch

She had earned my love and respect because she had grown.

She’d evolved.

She’d pushed aside her biases, regrets, and grievances, and had looked for essential core values by which to strengthen the family.

She would have never needed to choose sides – or rather, she would have chosen both “sides” and pushed back those who wished to keep us separated.

She would have opened her large, warm home to all of us, kept us all safe and “off of the streets” – and maybe even would have advocated for couples counseling.

The point is, she would have given us all a buffer, a neutral ground, a place to recallibrate and regain bearings after the fall and hits we had all taken.

But she was gone.

Our family had been the last one standing since, with all of the weight of bitter prior generations haunting and pressing upon it to crack and shatter.

And no matter how innovative I was – how determined, how full of love, hope, belief, and far-seeing persevering perspective – it needed the command of our elder’s respect that she’d weilded to help save our fragile marriage.

But she was gone.

And the house along the sea ledge once so full of the triumph of love overcoming all still sat vacant, silent, and weathering away by ensuing neglect –

A testament to the greed and avarice of an inheriting daughter-in-law’s need for revenge upon her father’s memory –

With our matriarch’s memory unable to hold further sway beyond the symbolism provided in loss left holding the ashes of her mortality.