The sun on fire in its crucible, clouds plume as it turns to molten gold, spitting liquid fragments upon the ground around it (zoom to see). The darkest cloud center above it is like a left hand with wrist, thumb, palm open down, and ends of fingers curling under – conjuring.
What we see in media seems to be mostly extroverts who love performing for audiences.
Where are the intelligent introverts – how do they/we gain impetus to be forthcoming?
In a time when people fall in and out of love too easily, it is difficult to orchestrate recovery from experiencing.
When you are dirt poor and need agency assistance, it is not enough that you have difficulty gathering information requested, figuring out exactly what to say so that you represent your situation clearly, or even that you have barriers to sending that information by lack of access to transportation, internet and/or printer access, and money to fax the data to them.
Once you have managed to overhaul and conscript all efforts to achieve these accomplishments, they want you to keep updating them in the same way, with likely the same difficulties, again and again and again.
I have given up filing for unemployment because of this. Should I focus on continuously regluing the red tape as a faulty system keeps tearing my data line to fragments – or should I divert these efforts toward ensuring that I never need its help, again?
We missed our appointment to peruse the private thrift store for items and clothing.
It just didn’t register, when I was focused on ensuring things went well for my first week of work, and I was currently wearing clothes on my body.
It is amazing how much time is “wasted” filling in holes that keep washing out from my foundation and repairing structure which is constantly collapsing.
I am hoping to gain a method to where maintenance no longer requires such huge and inefficient energetic expenditures.
Unless forced to protect one’s self and family.
This is an essential truth, and is at the original basis of Islam.
Yes, they had their holy wars – but, why?
If we revisit history, these clans were about to be wiped out on all sides from invaders.
It is just that terrorist extremists now forget that Muhammad’s end goal was peace by cooperation and inclusiveness.
I have never been of it – and today’s statement ensures the door as closed.
I am looking for a partner who Believes.
I spent all this time and effort understanding everyone else’s perspective, while constantly turning the other cheek and still getting slapped around by their poor treatment and harsh circumstances.
I realized the other day that I now have the ability to take down any one person who has wronged me. Being empathically observant and subconsciously tracking patterns through years of enforced, isolated “incarceration” now reveals to me the keys.
What I want is to claim my freedom – and woe to any and all who now try to prevent me.
I had this foolish dream of reciprocation that after all those years of hardship and my ensuring our extended family stayed healthy and together – I thought that I would finish my Bachelor’s, we’d then have double, solid income, and my husband and U would pay off this debt together.
You know, The American Dream.
His timing for leaving was brilliant, actually. It ensured I stayed disempowered, and could not finish my degree until long after we were divorced.
Now, he and his family do not need to feel that they owe me anything, for clearly with ten years past, now, all of this responsibility belongs to me.
It is near ludicrous to think of investing in a house when I already owe over $100,000 in school loans (easily $90,000) and incidental bills fallen by the wayside while fighting to find and keep housing.
Thiings happen, like a husband becoming disabled and being unable towork for ten years while you scramble to care for children and raise them well against unsupportive and judgmental school systems.
It’s a symptom of desperation over the last 20+ years has graced us with while greed and fat-cattery has degraded American social and education systems.
It is frustrating that loan agencies only recognize taking 6 units per semester as the minimum requirement.
They are not taking into account single parents raising children, and/or battling against being homeless.
Add to this unchecked, compounded interest rates ever accumulating – even if qualified.
For three years, youngling and I have had it, and worked very hard to subvert it.
It is frightening to us both when we now accidentally escalate, because we have already made so much progress together.
An unfortunate aspect of true healing is that when you at last reach safety, old wounds burst open again so they can finally cleanse and mend.
No one tells you this will be painful and make you doubt your sanity, all over again.
They only set you up for unrealistic expectations that suddenly everything will be better without further effort.
Local Winter semester begins January 3rd, while online begins January 11th.
What was that I spoke of regarding resting?
Methinks “coasting” has ended.
Gaining employment at a university often has the added advantage of some enrollment fees being waved.
Investigate (for umpteeth time – but now that I am relocated here, could be different) degree options at local state college vs. finishing degree online.
Network with agencies to see if I qualify for any grants to help me finish, and which (if any) options are more time and cost efficient.
Make a plan for finishing on my own, regardless of taking more time and/or income limitations (if I complete three units per semester, for example, I could finish in two more years).
It’s ok that I get lost here, traveling in circular patterns along destinations. It isn’t the bad kind, but where I can just let go.
Like a wolf nosing the trap around its paw, I know that my shoulder injury needs releasing, but I need help to do it.
Returning to a racquetball court months after my last experience – being able to pick up from where I left off – reactivated my left shoulder and arm extensor muscles.
The jarring fall from puppy swerving in front of me, and then the bamboo root being slippery, during my time of heavy-lifting moving had resulted in muscles being stuck, adhesed to bone and each other for guarding.
I had not thought that asking the muscles to perform reaching for and directing the ball would help anything.
But, warming up and restimulating muscle memory gave spindle fibers something to strive for.
It has become accepted to have a “bucket list:” things you want to do before you die.
I am going to make myself a list of all the things I wanted to do as a child, but was denied access to.
Right.
So now that we live where courses are, where can I purchase time to drive the golf cart around?
(chuckle)
You need to update my age-range category.
From first-hand experience, I can tell you that you do not know what you are talking about.
Turning 50 is an age marker of qualified life experience.
I have lived half of a century.
I will take that Merit badge, please.
Now is when I get to choose how to define me.
Try to keep up.
When society tries to tell a vital, still-maturing woman that her role in life is over, she can become a little pissy!
For fun and curiosity, I typed in Tinder for my area to see what it was about.
Hm. About like I’ve heard it is.
However, then there was a section where you could sign up for 50+.
I thought, “maybe more maturity and seriousness.”
But – wait a minute!
As the site diverted me, it showed that category was “senior dating.”
Excuse me?!
Backtracking out that door – quickly.
I will not be so easily categorized, nor conscripted!
“Senior dating??”
Out-dated, under-qualified, TRIPE-ISM in action!
It is best to only be around and work with people who are supportive – instead of toxic – to one’s identity.
“If you have the confidence to laugh even while dealing with all of this past bullshit, then you’ve won.”
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.
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?
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?
Is it better for you that I remain as a muse, rather than a vital, manifesting woman in love with you?
If he ignored her and kept making excuses, then he didn’t have to show up for himself.
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?
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.
No muss.
No fuss.
No drama.
No llama!
(“Caaaaarrrrlll!”)
Gotta “beat feet!”
Our connection to the earth, to our families, and to each other has been rifted through lifetimes by whatever divisive farce wanting ti take over.
I believe that we each hold the key, and that if we are willing, we can find common ground and heal, together.
How long does it take to recover from it, having acquired the option?
If I’m honest about it and just push aside all the bs still blathering about in my brain, I know I would be good at anything my passion attaches to – as long as security can be obtained.
More bold in energetics than silver, but not as hot as yellow.
It’s to be expected that I’d have this twisting now in my gut, with faintness and dizzied perplexion.
I am calling myself out from hiding.
This is raw and new.
Blark!
Candid Corvid Productions 