Resurrection

 

Those that know me well, know that I subscribe to a slightly different outlook on life than most.  One of those areas is the belief that animals are often messengers and when they show up repeatedly, you should take heed.  Peacocks (not the horrible Katy Perry song or some random subscription to Peacocks "R" Us, either) have been showing up in my life to the point that since early December, I have stated repeatedly that I needed to look up their meaning.  They have been appearing every where in my life (work, gifts, jewelry, etc) as many as two to three times daily.  I don't know about you, but peacocks are NOT a normal part of my daily life or thoughts!  So after yet another appearance today, I consulted my Ted Andrews books and discovered that peacocks are associated with wisdom and vision.  Along with the phoenix, they represent rising from the ashes of our prior life and resurrection.  Peacocks also appear with the reminder to laugh at life.

I have come a long way since the trauma associated with 2010, but it still often causes me more grief than it should.  A result of those events has been to not only hide my tears, but to hide my laughter as well--after all, laughing at life and what was being thrown at me was apparently part of the problem.  Showing emotion of any kind is frowned upon within the paternal network of my family--laughter is no different.  Happiness is frowned upon--stoic German heritage at its best.  In the opinion of my family, leaving my relationship should have led to tears and misery.  Leaving my relationship and appearing not only happy, but filled with laughter and smiles at each new found day could only mean one thing--drugs.  Meth was the first one they accused me of--many others followed after.

 

I remember hearing my father laugh one time at my Grandmother's house. It was an odd, foreign sound and a hush settled across the kitchen as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look and see if he was okay. It was not a natural sound. Our reaction was nearly one of fear--similar to the response when someone begins choking. Everyone freezes and then wonders if that person is alright or if they need assistance.  When my father laughed, no one else joined in--glances were quietly exchanged between my cousins and myself and I think a silent shudder may have passed amongst us, also.  You think I jest; yet I remember the experience quite well.

 

2010 and my laughter led to questions regarding my sanity.  The common question was "Why does she laugh and clap?  What is wrong with her?"  Nobody in my family was happy that I wasn't grieving.  They were angry with my zest for life.  It didn't not fit in with their expectations.  It was not logical.  What they didn't seem to understand, was that the grieving phase had occurred while I was still trapped with him.  Happiness was the natural response to having been set free of him and that life--who would not find a smile and a song upon their lips?

 

Sometimes I feel that they won.  I am ever more cautious with my tears and with my laughter.  I am again nearly a robot most days--stoic as I should be.  Flat as they think I should be.  But I do not enjoy their desire of who I should be--their vision for me is not the same one  that I carry for myself. Perhaps these are the reasons peacocks keep creeping into my life... To remind me to laugh. To remind me to rise above and recreate myself from the ashes and shattered self of 2010...

 

I am again reminded of the words from one of my closest friends during Father's Day 2010 when my pain and rage were consuming me.  He explained it to me as such: "Who needs fire when you have got plenty inside?  Create and recreate.  It is what you do best.  The art of creation and destruction are but one in the same.  Just destroy with a smile on your face and don't get rid of what you truly need."  Months after that Father's Day, the same friend also provided these words: "I have never doubted the fact that our families are our worst critics. Give your brother room and time. He will remember how to see you. The heart seldom forgets. Until then, don't discount your own vision for yourself...You must continue. If anything, you must not forget your worth. You are going to be a better you. One day, they will rise to meet you on a ground unseen by them. Pity them, if it helps... but continue. You are better for it, hard as it may be. You are not alone."

 

Thoughts for the new year ahead.  Thoughts to again find the person I was before they put me on the chopping block.  Thoughts to again allow happiness, laughter and light into my life.  That has always been me--always been my path--I must resume my journey as life means for me to live it--no longer by their visions for me...

 

 

 



Ponderings and Parables

It is a well-known fact that I am a stickler for manners. It is rumored that my grandmother once stuck her fork through the hand of one of her ill-mannered husbands when he reached in front of her at the dinner table. What does that have to do with the pondering of the day? Nothing really. Or maybe it does?

 

And I wonder, has she yet discovered the truth about the woodpecker?  Not my grandmother, mind you, for she has been gone from this world for nearly forty years.  No, it is another that I speak of now.  An important part of my family, for a brief while. Does she realise yet, that it was not ever tree decay that was the concern, so much as tooth decay? Mermaids with gingivitis were truly always the issue. Yet how silly to end a friendship over a woodpecker! It was silly coincidence that placed a full-fledged, live, feathered woodpecker in her favorite tree.  While I told her as much at the time, she insisted that it must be about her, because clearly, my world revolved around her.

 

Thus began the chain of lost friends, handcuffs and police cars.  Thus began myths of meth, of starvation, of suicidal and homicidal plottings.  Such began a world of witchcraft, talking to God, and visions of angels.  Friendships and family, trusted loved ones, all thrown to the wind  under the wings of an imaginary bird. Silly, you say?  No sillier than harboring dangerous animals, no sillier than being caught with paddles and handkerchiefs, no sillier than transforming oneself into a contortionist while handcuffed in the back seat of a police car.  Truly, no sillier than believing that the world consists of safety and that one may have personal rights.

 

It was a simple message. A message that had nothing to do with her. Yet, with it, she laid waste to my world and thought herself clever.

 

It is all right, now.  She has fallen over her own folly. Ill-conceived, nonexistent predictions now have become truth. What must they think now when they look back at those so called ramblings of insanity? Surely now I am even more ill-marked as the demon.  And so, the lies meant to destroy, have circled back around and found their true owners.  Paths have been cleared, obstacles removed, foes uncovered from beneath their masks of adoring love. It was a cleansing, a rebirth, a shedding of skin that was unbeknownst cancerous.

 

She was right, in a sense.  My world did revolve around her. Not in the same manner that she twisted herself around my world and attempted to constrict the life from it.  My world revolved around her in that, she was the one I called when I needed someone. It was her shoulder that I laid my head upon and cried. It was her that cheered my sorrows, found my laughter, and eased my mind.  Did she truly believe that  all of the gifts; the favors of dishes washed, children watched; anniversaries of sorrow well-marked, remembered and softened; that the years of attempts to make her life more pleasant were simply a ruse? A major plot of her demise at the expense of my own pocketbook and career? In what world does this make sense? Clearly, the same world in which woodpeckers destroy friendships.

 

It is safe, now. For clearly, she was not deserving of my love or the gift of my friendship. She took many with her.  So many that I miss; so like herself. But truly, do I miss her or the concept she stood for?  I recognize now that I watered tainted soil; the seeds that I carefully tended were devoured and reduced to rot. Looking back, there were many seeds that I nurtured and lovingly cared for, during those years. How much better it is to discover the empty soil and no longer waste precious resources needlessly toiling.

 

What has changed? My back still aches with the close of the day. My tears still fall to the tilled Earth.  Yet the sun rises each day and I begin again. I continue to pull and cast aside the weeds, still occasionally finding a spent seed husk. The seeds which I lovingly fed her; the empty husks that she spat back in mockery.  Seeds of the past; just empty shells of yesterday.  

 

Yet I still sometimes marvel over this immense chasm; all over a misunderstood parable that she so badly wanted to claim as her own.  Does she see it now?  Does she realize yet what she has cast away? Does she realize that only the very ill-mannered would treat a friend in such a manner? Ah, and truly, it matters not. 

 

Today, I choose to cultivate gentler life.  Today, I remember the lessons and recognize that sometimes a woodpecker is a woodpecker and sometimes, the sisterhood is broken.

The Evils of Desire

"There are two ways to get enough.  One is to continue to accumulate more and more.  The other, is to desire less."

 

To walk this path, it takes a certain change in mindset--an anti-modern American mindset, if you will. It started for me three years ago--recognizing that not only did I already have everything that I truly needed, but that my possessions do not define me, as I had once thought. Truly, it is the opposite--they hold me back and keep me tied down.

 

I do not wish to be tethered by possessions. Less is more and equals a happier existence, overall. Sometimes I still slip and see useless things that I think I must have, but overall, I would rather use the money that once was wasted on possessions and use it for experiences, such as travel and time spent with distant friends.

 

My family and many of the people in my life really fought me when I first started getting rid of my possessions--it led to conflict and turmoil that I can't even begin to describe--from me being on drugs and getting rid of my possessions to support my meth habit (because this also explained my weight loss) to me preparing to commit suicide (because according to THEIR calculations, I should be depressed over my recent break-up, not happy--as they were seeing).  Apparently, change is threatening on many levels. Thankfully, with that change also came the reduction of many people in my life that I thought were my friends but were actually sucking me dry and were bent on my destruction.

 

"The Buddhist gazes into the empty bowl and sees that it contains everything and that it always has.

The Nihilist gazes into the empty bowl and sees that it contains nothing and that it always has."

 

Just some thoughts as we enter this holiday season when possessions and the increased accumulation of material items becomes the main focus of many...