Stoplight

Life seems simple when there are basic rules and standards that we all agree to follow. We would all be dead or crippled with out traffic rules- I am so thankful for the stoplight. if only we had stoplights in our head for all behaviors. Caution's yellow would slow us down constantly to look both ways before we make a choice. Red would warn us to stop or there will be dangerous outcomes, and green would give us such security about doing the right thing. Unless, someone else runs the red light and turns our green into a fateful accident. There are so many mixed messages about socially acceptable or politically correct behavior, that our internal light signals no longer protect us. Single girls are sexually involved, unmarried women are having babies, couples live together without legal permission or rights, and women abort babies they don't want or think they can't handle. These are all common occurrences that are supported by society even though many people may believe it is morally wrong. Women realize that they and their children are 90% of the poor in America, and undervalued in many countries of the world. So, how can we find security and meaningful lives in this century? We should start by controlling our sexuality and fight against the problem of the penis. Women are in relationships with no promises and no permanence because they believe that the freedom is empowering, when in fact it causes delays in their hopes and dreams.

Fine China

My daughters appear delicate at times and resilient when I think they would collapse. Moms need to always be strong and set a good example. But, we are in fact like fine china. We want to be special, and treated with care. We want to be appreciated for our artistry and refinement. And we never want to be dropped or we will be broken into a dozen pieces. As I pack the fine china to move into a smaller home, I wonder what I will do with it. Every piece was a gift or belonged to my grandmothers who are now gone. The delicate cream and sugar bowls seem to be relics of the past when there was time to sit and have tea and chat with ladies. My daughters will probably not use such things or care about them. I enjoyed hosting teas and having women over for book discussions or Sunday School meetings. Do women do that anymore? I now send text messages to my girlfriends if I want to hear from them. And when we get together at parties; the men and women split so that one group can talk sports and politics and the other about children and charities. Easy to guess which is which, isn't it? My daughters have collected many nick knacks over the years. They will also have to pack them up or sort through and decide if they have any use. Their books will be replaced by Kindles, and the thousands of crayons markers and pens will be replaced by keyboards and touch screens. What goes in the garbage will make archaeologists scratch their heads in a hundred and thousand years. But all our trappings are really just a distraction from the fact that we surround ourselves with items that have memories. We want to hold on to the good feelings we had with the people who taught us and brought us love. Moving helps us to let go of things. It should NEVER make us let go of love and the people we love.

Concertric Circles

Concentric Circles

Release the pain,
Embrace the power.

A path to contentment is circling back
To remember and release.
Then to persuade and assist company
On the revolution of time
Into eternity.

In my midnight world
Where reality is beyond reality,
I am plagued by the painful conflicts
I deny in the daylight.

The gift is to awake
And find the madness to be false
In that way we control the outcomes.
I recognize the crazy clues,
That allows me to step
To the next level of subconscious,
Letting go each layer of disappointment
And unreasonable desire.

The new day revolves around a center
Where the half night exists only to be awakened
By the next sleep.

We release the pain through meditation,
Only to gather new ones
Through sloth and excessiveness of the mind and body.
The pain can be released
Through slow and patient manipulations
And replaced with the power
To assist souls in their orbits.

We are not linear
But cyclical spins of atomic power.
I am the planet comatose.

Kimalaya 2010

Contact and Attention

How often should a mom call her daughters and how often should they contact their mother. Remember that if they contact their father, he may forget to mention it. My generation was used to a call once a week. My mother would not do long distance unless it was really important, so she wrote hr mother once a month. With cell phones, and social networking it is easy to drop a line anytime without disturbing anyone. But that is not enough! We want to hear our children's voices!! WE WANT TO TALK TO YOU. So, a phone call once a week would be nice in an ordinary circumstance. But, I found out that my husband tries to touch base with our daughters everyday to make sure they are okay in their distance environs. So, my daughters forget to call or return the call when I have left messages and emails. Why is this happening? It makes it sound like I am hovering, but i am just trying to get a response from just one of my communication equipment. I tried to make appointments to talk, I tried waiting patiently, and I have tried threats such as: " I am dying and need help". Nothing works. I have to go back to being patient. Eventually someone will need something from me and will call.

Financial Intervention

We love to spoil our children and give them their heart's desire. And then they learn to talk and say, "I want". All parents then learn to say, "Maybe, if you are good, next time, and no". But still we want our children to have everything. So, now that they are independent adults, how much help is appropriate? When do parents or their children learn to live within their means and work for the things we need and want? I thought a credit card would be a mistake. My husband wanted our children to have one as a safety net. All three have had shopping sprees with out notice or a thank you when the bill came. Entitlement? Our oldest lives with in her means now and is saving for the future. Our middle child is practically independent, but pays no rent to live in our condo. Our youngest is engaged but still completely dependent and thinks nothing of using her plastic. All three hop on planes like it is taking a bike ride for the day. Spoiled? I just sound like a very bad and mean mom if I question these things which daddy freely gives. And it seems that my desires must be paid for with my own hard work. I hope the the future hubbies can handle the money bag. We have plenty of material things for the girls to choose to use. They need to save for the future or for a rainy day- heaven forbid a flood.

Let them Live their Own Lives

There is no stopping the constant mothering of a child, no matter their age. It is important to let children grow to find their independence and live life the way they see fit. There must be satisfaction for parents who have children that follow in their footsteps, and elation for parents who have children that far exceed their expectation. Reality is that we still find small things that frustrate us on both sides of the relationship. We can be proud that our child has a full time job with benefits, but pissed that they still don't pick up their clothes form the floor. Or, we can tell our children how excited we are that they bought their first car, and still erupt when they arrive late to occasions. This constant conflict is driving me crazy.

Lessons by the Shore

Sunrise by the ocean is a quiet place.

Joggers, shell hunters, walkers all say good morning as we politely pass by.

The rising tide drops millions of abandoned ocean homes.

I suddenly spy several conch fragments in one alcove.

They are black marbled cement heavy.

I line them up like sunbathers on a cruise ship.

Ten feet away there are more that are added to the collection.

A family reunion that keeps growing until there are 22, 35, now 43

in a row at the surf edge.

Joggers take notice.

Walkers point and remark soft words of amusement.

Forty-seven fabulous finds await a family of five who are collecting and not suspecting

An arranged artistry of prized shells. They ogle and look to me as I add one more.

I have brought home beach treasures to remind me of the happiness I feel there.

What right do I have to keep them sequestered in my own hiding place?

The oldest cherub faced boy asks, "Are these yours?"

"No," I say, "they belong to the ocean.

I put them there for fun and you can take them if they give you happiness."

"I want the big one," he says to his family, "Let's all pick one".

Man's art is only to rearrange nature.

Pigments, minerals, materials we organize

Never capture what the earth has perfectly formed

To give us happiness.