This is going to be my mantra from now on

Thanks Holli!




"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving

safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in

sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used

up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

The Question of Submission

Late last night lying side by side in a tangle of sheets, I posed this question to my husband, "If you had to choose, just one which would it be? To have me completely surrender all of my mind, my heart and my spirit to you and your will, or to have me completely surrender all of my body to you. Either, or, which would it be?"
"Why?" He smiled and laughed a little at the question.
"I'll tell you after you answer, and then tell me why you chose the one you did."

His answer suprised me. Well, to be honest, it did and it didn't.
I find myself thinking about this sort of thing off an on, and I'm not sure if our difference in oppinion stems from our being almost always diametrically opposed or from the fact that he is a man and I'm a woman. (You have to admit that there is a difference, at times, in the way men and women think and reason, not being biased or predjudiced just being naturally who we are respectively.)
From my point of view, it is of no consequence to surrender my body. I have no fear of being mugged or raped or even beaten. You see all of that has been done to me, and what I learned, is that those things don't touch who I am, the essence of me, if you will. My body, is NOT me. It's simply my suitcase. This is one reason that I have little respect for those who base their oppinions and judgements of people upon their outward appearance. But, that is another rant... Anyway, as I told my husband, there have been times when we have had sex and I wasn't even there. My body was, but I wasn't. Make sense?
It is so much harder to surrender my SELF. That, to me, becomes the prized and precious thing. For a person to give up some want or plan or vision for the sake of another human being. For the benefit and love of that person, what on earth could be more valuable.
For my husband, however, as much as we argue as much as we approach life completely from opposite ends of the spectrum, he wouldn't have that any other way. He says to me, "I love that you have your own mind, a strong mind and a sense of will and purpose. Why would I want a puppet to mimic what I say or think or feel?" My response is, "Why would you want my body if I'm not there." So, we go. Round and round. Facing eachother in the dark, holding hands, and slowly both of us drifting off to sleep.

So, tell me, which would you choose?
Why?



"A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience;

Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince
Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?

I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love and obey.

Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?

Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.

Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,

My hand is ready; may it do him ease."




Shakespeare, "Taming of the Shrew". Act V, scene II

In case of Emergency, break glass

I can see the outside from where I stand in my room. I often watch the children and the birds and the clouds. Outside there is a world of color and life and smells all buzzing around in my imagination. If I think real hard sometimes I can hear the sound of the breeze and feel the golden, honey rays of the sun on my fridgid skin. I want to smell the orange blossoms and the fresia, so I look intently out the window trying to feel the world I see outside.
This room I am in is white, all white, everything white, and sterile. There are no sounds in my room, except the deafening drum of silence. I often times feel cold so I pace and rub my arms as I stand in front of the window and stare. When I get tired of pacing, when my feet ache and my back hurts I sit in a chair that I have advantageously placed in front of the colorful window. That's really when I dream. I dream about contentment, and I wonder, maybe contentment is like my blanket. I wrap myself tight and snuggly, sitting in my chair staring hard out the window. "Contentment is a blanket." I think to myself. And I rock, slowly back and forth as I pull the threads out, one by one.

One Chance in a Lifetime

I have often wondered how to go about telling you everything I feel, everything that I want you to know and believe about love and the world and beauty and happiness. I have not as yet found the perfect words or gestures to convey all that my heart holds for you. How can you ever know the pleasure your life brings to me. The satisfied feeling that I get from your smile. The rage that boils over in my soul when you are hurt or mistreated. I know I have been hard on you, but the hardness was born of intense love. I want such a greatness for your life, not of money or power but of all the things that really matter. I will give you anything that I can to help you fullfill your dreams.

I give you my inner strength
I give you my endurance
I give you my wisdom, born of adversity
I give you my courage
I give you my confidence
I give you my heart, my love, my soul, my spirit...

Everything that is precious to me, I give to you. I will be an empty shell if it means you will be the person I know you are deep inside yourself.

I love you
I love you
I love you

Always and forever, no matter what.


"In her own sweet world,
populated by dolls and clowns and a prince
and a big purple bear.
Lives my favorite girl,
unaware of the worried frowns that weary grown-ups all wear.
In the sun she dances to silent music,
songs that were spun of gold somwhere in her own little head.
One day all too soon,
she'll grow up and she'll leave her dolls
and her prince and her silly old bear.
When she goes they will cry as they wisper goodbye.
They will miss her, I fear
but then, so will I."


Gene Lees

The Circle of Life

The smell of flowers and padded church pews filled the auditorium. Mourners gathered in the foyer and milled about, wispering between the silence and the sobs. The family of the deceased are all dressed in black, standing in clumps like sheep huddled against a cold wind. In the corner of the room she stands holding tightly to her mother's hand. Her golden ringlets play against the darkness of the mood, she is seven and she is looking for some answers. Tugging gently at her mother's hand she looks up expectantly, the tears in everyone's eyes frighten her a little.
"It's okay mommy. Don't cry."
The service is prompt and general. Music, fine words, lovely memories of a life well lived. She sits in the pew dangling her feet, playing with her hands looking out amongst the crowd with wondering eyes. She moves closer to her mother and reaching her tiny hand up brushes the tears from her mother's face.
"Why did Poppy leave? Is he comming back mommy?"
"No my darling, Poppy isn't comming back. Poppy went to heaven."
"But mommy, he promised to take me to the park on Saturday. He promised."
"I'm sorry sweatheart..."
Tears began to spill silently out of her dark lashes, her lower lip just beginning to quiver she sits down quietly with her head bowed looking at her shoes. Poppy was gone, he was never comming back. No more playing in the park or walks around the block, no more secret ice cream sundaes just the two of them. Lifting her head and looking around, sparkling eyes tell of confusion...

Sitting at the front of the church next to the minister she brushes lint from her black suit. She is sitting erect clenching her jaw. Every hair is in place, no tears have yet to marr the mascara applied earlier in the morning. Leaning forward slightly she wispers quietly to the minister, she scans the room and makes a mental note of people she should speak with. The arrangement for food was handled the day before, the hearse and all the limos were outside. Plans for the care and comfort of her mother had been detailed with her sister and brother. The flowers arranged just so atop the casket she picked out.
"Daddy's gone."
The thought is brief and she quickly passes it by. The service is fine, everything is going acording to plan.
"He won't be there if I need him... Daddy."
She wears a mask of stoic resolution and looking around, sparkling eyes tell of denial...

There had been little sleep for a few days now, the lines on her face augmented by the dark circles under her eyes. Bloodshot and puffy, there had been no make-up for her this morning. Her hands still trembled just as they did the moment the Doctor had said he was gone. Gone for good. She is sitting in the front pew starring at the casket. Her shoulders heave with great sobs and the tears are comming with an uncontrolable force. Fifty-six years of marriage, her whole adult life, lived with him. Her best friend, partner, confidant, lover. He filled the empty spaces in her life as far back as she could remember. She could, in fact, hardly remember her life without him. She surrenders the part of her that is laid to rest with him, a part of her soul that was taken from her on that day. That terrible day. Her head nods with approval to hear him so well talked of. A fine father and grandfather. A fine husband. A life well lived.
"How do I go on without him? Who will take care of the bills? Who will feed the dog and lock up at night? How can I want to go on without him?"
Clutching the hand of her son and sobbing into her husband's old hankercheif, she stares blankly ahead and sparkling eyes tell of emptiness...

Step 10

"Staring into the Dragon's jaw, one quickly learns wisdom." --Steven Brust


In my recovery meetings there are a lot of old cliches. You know the ones I'm talking about, "One day at a time" and the Serenity Prayer are a couple that come to mind right away. There is another one I thought I had forgotten. I was remined by a loving friend this last week and it has been on my mind ever since. The acronym is H.A.L.T.
Never get too Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired.

I'm thankful that I have in my life people who care about me. I have people who care about me enough that they tell me the ugly truth about myself, even when I don't particularly care to hear it, even when I think that they are perfectly wrong.

Step Ten:
Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promtly admitted it.

I have been wrong. I have behaved in ways that I am ashamed of. I started to think again, that I could control everything in my life that hurt, confused, or upset me. I can not. I will however, do the best I can, what ever happens next, to be true to me.

"Whenever we were troubled by things other people said or did or by what we feared they might say or do, we needed to make a quick assessment of our own spiritual condition in order to gain perspective on ourselves and the other person...
One area in which we often experienced difficulty was in continuing to be open and forthright about our feelings and motives, and our expectations of others. We would hide dissappointment, hurt, fear or anger under a facade of acceptance...
Then, too, we continued to learn about how the defects we had already identified could emerge in milder but still troublesome forms. Sometimes a new defect in our charecter was discovered, such as selfishness that had been lurking under dependance, or the fear of intamacy that hid behind restlessness...
In all of this we were coming to know that our own attitudes and actions were the only aspects of our lives which we stood any real chance of influencing. We had always been, were now, and forever would be powerless over the deeds and motives of others."

The Augustine Fellowship Big Book

My Dear, Sweet, J.

Me too. More than you'll ever know.


"When you're down and troubled, and you need some loving care,
and nothing, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest night.

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am,
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall all you have to do is call,
and I'll be there.
You've got a friend.

If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds,
and that old North wind begins to blow.
Keep your head together, and call my name out loud,
soon you'll hear me knocking at your door.

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am,
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall all you have to do is call,
and I'll be there.

Ain't it good to know, you've got a friend.

When people can be so cold, they'll hurt you and desert you
and take your soul if you let them.
Oh, but don't you let them.

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am,
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall all you've got to do is call,
and I'll be there, you've got a friend."

Carole King

I stole this idea from Adrienne

3 names you go by: Cherrance, Cherrabim, Cherry

3 screen names you have: Cherryanne, Chubbsy, Cherrylainey

3 things you like about yourself: My capacity to genuinely love, My spiritual nature, My endurance

3 things you hate about yourself: I like attention, I'm too vain, My addiction

3 parts of your heritage: Irish, English, German

3 things that scare you: Love, Abandonment, Success

3 everyday essentials: Coffee, Good Conversation, Vegtables

3 things you're wearing right now: Favorite jeans, Comfy T, My flaming Doc Martins

3 favorite artists: Rodin, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Debussy

3 favorite songs right now: "What a wonderful world" Louie Armstrong, "Landslide" Carole King, "Built to Last" T.P. and the H.B.

3 things you want to try in the next twelve months: The Tango, Mountain biking, SCA

3 things you want in a relationship: Complete honesty, spontinaity, Intelectual stimulation

2 truths and one lie: I hate flattery, I want everything right now, I can be demanding.

3 physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to you: Facial hair, physical fittness, expressive eyes

3 things you just can't do: I can't shmooze, I can't slow down, I can't sit still

3 carreers you would like to try: Doctor, Artist, Actor

3 places you want to go on vaccation: The mediteranean, New Zealand, Europe

3 things you want to do before you die: Publish a novel, love grandchildren, Act in a play

Simple pleasures

The drive home from Las Vegas was killing me. There was so much snow and ice on the road and more comming down fast. In all the years that I've been driving I have only been as scared as I was then maybe two or three times. The atmosphere in the car was less than genial and I'm sure that had a lot to do with my stress level. I just couldn't take it a minute longer and decided the best thing to do, for all our sake's was to stop somewhere and just wait a while.
We walked into the coffee shop dripping with sleet, I had little pieces of hail stuck in my hair and my eyes were bloodshot from no sleep the two nights before. I'm sure I've looked better and I'm sure my appearance gave an indication of my temperment as a few people tried to get out of my way quickly. I feel bad about that, I never want to leave the impression that I'm in any way a surley kind of person, but there you have it. Making my way to the counter to order something hot...ANYTHING hot, I notice out of the corner of my eye a scruffy-looking gentleman with a chess board set in front of him. "Cool." I think to myself, "I love chess."
After what seems an eternity of a wait I finaly make my way to a nice quiet table near the fireplace, anxious to sit down and relax.
The gentleman with the chess board in front of him is in his mid fifties, probably. He has a very full beard that is more gray than not, an old, used cowboy hat that is slightly tilted down covering his eyes. I love to look at people, especially their eyes, anyway he has on a great pair of Wrangler jeans with one of the biggest belt buckles I've ever seen, an old-fashioned cowboy cut dress shirt. The kind that has the perlized snaps at the chest pockets. My Dad used to wear those, I have fond memories of those snaps.
As I start to sit down I notice suddenly my chair has been moved. Thinking this guy has taken it for himself, I glare at him. I'm ashamed to say it, but yeah, I realized then that he was pulling out my chair for me so that I could sit down. Now, I'm thinking, I must look really bad for such a gesture, however in retrospect I think this is probably just his way. His mama raised him right. So, I smile and apologize and laugh at myself and while I sit I start to watch him.
People are so interesting to watch, I find myself staring at people when I'm out all the time. I try not to be rude, but sometimes I'm so curious about what is going on I forget myself.
He is seated about four feet away from me, alone at his table with the chess board and a book of crossword puzzles in hand. Every so often he moves a piece on the board and gives a nod of the head as if to say, "Nice move. Yeah. Good job." He looks at his move and then turns to the other hand and works the crossword puzzle. Back and forth with this pattern he goes for at least a half an hour. I'm rivetted. Seriously. First of all I'm thinking how sure he must be of himself, and how comfortable he is to be alone. Second, that he is genuinely entertaining himself. No real gadgets or fast moving entertainment, just him, the book, the board and the nod. Thirdly, he's multi-tasking. A MAN is multi-tasking, enough said.
Usually when I observe people I don't often find someone just so comfortable and so satisfied with simple pleasures. This gets me to thinking about my own life and what I find enjoyable. I ponder my ability to be alone, my capability to entertain myself, and before I know it I'm relaxed. Watching him has relaxed me.
Ready with my second wind I start to stand and Mr scruffy-looking stands himself pulling out my chair. I'm so thankful and rested and a little awe-struck. I smile warmly and he tips his hat. Smiling in return he nods to the board and says with a wink, "Check mate."

Diabolical Dialog

The couple stepped from the resturaunt into the chill of a winter's evening, their meal had been good and the conversation even better. A warm satisfied feeling swept over her as she sat in the driver's seat of the car.
Laughing he says, "You're a sex addict."
Without thinking she reponds, "I know! I can't help it. No, wait, that's not true. I can help it. I don't want to."
In the brief silence that followed she questions how to take that remark. Was he insulting? Was he playing? Was he trying to really point out a character flaw?
"I think," he says "sex isn't that big of a deal anymore."
Comfortable silence fills the car as she navigates their way out of the parking lot.
"I don't think I understand."
"Understand what?" he asks.
"I don't understand what you mean by that. Do you mean you never want to have sex again? Ever?!"
"No that's not quite what I meant."
"Well, I mean, let's face it. I have had lots of sex. I have had lots of good sex. But, really, it's the emotional connection that can make it the special thing that it is. Otherwise, it's just screwing around."
Chewing on his toothpick from dinner and looking out the window of the car he thinks a moment about how to answer.
"Yeah, that's what I mean. I don't know that I want sex just for sex sake anymore."
"Ah..." she replies, " yeah, but don't you think that just comes with age."
"Maybe."
"I like to flirt." She realises after speaking that this could potentially be taken the wrong way. Anxious to clear any misconception about her integrity she hurries on. "I mean, I like to flirt when it's safe. I would never flirt with anyone else the way I flirt with you. If you don't know the person it can be dangerous. It would be inappropriate to so."
"Well, I like a good inuendo just like the next person, but it's subtle. Circumstances have to be just right."
She's thinking to herself, "what the heck does that mean?" Not feeling quite up to the task of uncovering the subtlty of his statement, she drops the subject entirely. Lost in thought she pulls up to a red light.
"You know," he says "this would be a great conversation to dialog when you write."

She laughs out loud, "Um...yeah, right."
"You could do it."
"No."
"Yes you could."
"Okay, from a writer's perspective, dialog is one of the hardest things to do well. I hate, hate, hate dialog. I just can't do it."
He sits quietly and looks out the window, not saying a word, lost in some thought of his own. The light turns green and she starts to drive. Slowly, quietly a smile steals across her face and she drives silently on through the dark.

My Favorite pair of Brown eyes

I am fortunate enough to have in my life a friend with perfect brown eyes. The kind of eyes that are always loving, always patient, always wanting my company.
It doesn't matter if I rant and rave and stomp around the house. It doesn't matter if I shut myself up in my office and angrily pound my keyboard because I mistakenly thought the universe revolved around me. I don't have to say I'm sorry, or make excuses for being out of my mind. I don't have to say anything at all.
She sits patiently by and waits.
If I am gone she waits for my return. If I am asleep she waits for me to wake up. If I am working she waits at the door for me to stop what I am doing.
Such unconditional love, given freely without an agenda or fear or insecurity. I want to love like that. To give without caring about recieving, to wait untill I'm needed.
But then again, I would love to sleep most of the day, be fed regularly by a loving hand and play till I'm exhausted.

It's a dog's life...

Welcome to the desert of the real...

"I know you're there.
I can feel you now.
I know that you are afraid.
You're afraid of us, afraid of change.
I don't know the future.
I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end.
I came here to tell you how it's going to begin.
I'm going to hang up this phone and then I'm going to show these people
what you don't want them to see.
I'm going to show them a world without you.
A world without rules and controls,
without borders or boundaries.
A world where anything is possible.
Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you."


Neo

Reading, writting and really Telling it like it is.

"Some people don't want to hear the truth, of course, but that's not your problem. Talk whether ugly or beautiful, is an index of character; it can also be a breath of cool, refreshing air in a room some people would prefer to keep shut up. In the end, the important question has nothing to do with whether the talk is sacred or profane; the only question is how it rings in the ear. If you expect it to ring true, then you must talk yourself. Even more important, you must shut up and listen to others talk."... Stephen King

Let's talk.

Kamikaze Poker!

Hooray!

Hooray I say!

Hooray for music!

Hooray for movies!

Hooray for games that grown-ups play!

Huzzah! and Hooray!

Hooray I say!