Ever notice someone make the comment, "Hey, that's a good idea!" Usually it was something simple that no one had thought of, but surprisingly, there it was all the time, just waiting to be discovered.
Even common sayings that have been handed down for decades often contain simple truths, obvious once one thinks about it, but not so evident to the untrained eye. In this complicated world of tecnology and noise pollution, constantly distracting us from our inner thoughts, it is easy to lose sight of the simplicity in nature, the natural cycles of ebb and flow that occur and recur as the world revolves around the sun.
I believe we are frequently short-sided in our observations of how things work. Most everything has a simple explanation, cause and effect, action and reaction. But too often we are blinded by our own individual biases, which attach us and distract us from the actuality of the way things really are.
If we can be still again... just be still and listen to the gentle rhythms of ocean waves, birds calling to each other, the wind blowing through the trees, or the soft sound of rain falling in the woods... I believe we would realize that there are also gentle rhythms within the walls of our own mortal flesh: the rhythms of our lungs taking in fresh air and exhaling; the almost silent flow of our blood as the heart works to pump the life fluid to all our tiny cells with each and every beat; even the rhythms of wake and sleep, which have been rudely interrupted by the invention of technology, which has a way of keeping us on our toes, day and night. No wonder there is so much to worry and wonder about - it is information overload.
What happened to the days when people took time to engage in real face to face conversation with their neighbors, or even those they passed at the supermarket? As I sit here and type these words I know that I am among the guilty... most of my communication with friends and family is through the ethernet... but we all know that ether evaporates quickly... and then what do we have left?
In our attempts to become more "connected" to the world through the internet, I believe we have become, in a way, move disconnected... with society and with ourselves.
Just my two cents, for what it's worth.
 

This morning I had another one of those dreams about my Mom - pretty much the same dream I always have. This time I went into her room, knowing she was not there, and I noticed everything was like before she died, like she had just been there, and left temporarily. The curtains were a colourful yellow, with flowers. (I have never seen that particular pattern on anything, that I can recall). So I looked around the room, and it was like everything was vibrant, almost like the objects were putting out some kind of sound vibration, as well as colour. Everything was kind of familiar, but yet not. I knew everything was hers, but most of it I had no recollection of ever seeing before, yet I knew it all belonged to her.

Then the thought came to me, that I had not entered this room often before, only occasionally. I began to ask myself why, I hadn't been there enough times to remember. Then, an incredible sadness overcame me, when I realized that my Mom was really gone, forever. She would never hold or behold any of these personal items, lying around in her room. Then, the sadness became almost unbearable, as I realized I would never have the chance to come into my Mom's room, and visit with her again. I cursed myself for not having the common sense, or decency, to be with her while she was alive.

Then, like always, I woke up. Anyway, dreams can be powerful, can't they?


 

Last night, actually around sunrise, I had the weirdest dream. It was about my Dad. It was the usual dream theme, where he's not actually dead, but still alive today. (He passed away thirty years ago in April).
Well, I dreamed that I caught up with him, after all these years. All this time, he had assumed a new identity, and had been in hiding. I wasn't sure what it had to do with, but I suspected it was something with the government. He had a different name, and somehow I came across the name in print. I can't remember what the name was, something like Arthur or something similar.
Anyway, I suddenly found myself inside his apartment. It looked like it had definitely been lived in, and I was glancing around to try to find something with his address on it. I wanted to remember where it was, so that I could come back to it.
I kept looking for my father again, the rest of the dream, but did not find him. I remember the general mood of the dream was, I realized that my father was not perfect, and that maybe he had done some things wrong in his life. This was actually a relief, when I realized that he was fallible, and was just like me, in that I have made mistakes in my life that I am not proud of.
Anyway, I was looking forward to my next conversation with him, and felt like maybe it was getting more imminent, when I woke up.
When I woke up, I just lay there, thinking about the dream. I started thinking about how, when you are little, you think your parents are infallible, like God or something. Then when you see that they are not, it kind of opens your eyes, to the realization that hey, they never were nor will they ever be perfect. And it's kind of a relief.
So I'm lying there, just lying there, still thinking. Then the thought occurs to me, what if God is kind of like that? What if he's not absolutely perfect, and makes a mistake every now and then? Wouldn't that put him in a position, to understand, or sympathize with us, a little more compassionately? Would he be more likely to commiserate with us, than to condemn us?
I thought about this dream, and its possible underlying meaning, many times throughout the day. I even told a couple of people about it, and tried to convey the general gist of the dream as, there being a lot of pressure relieved... but they didn't quite get it. Not until I could sit down to a keyboard and hash it out, could I get my thoughts about it organized.
Yeah, I guess that God does the best that He can, kind of like our parents.
 

I really didn't know what to expect, when I came to see my brother. In the past, he has said hateful, hurtful things. He even once mentioned that I was probably the reason our brother Steve had died, when in reality I was the one who gave him my bone marrow.
Anyway, nothing like that was ever mentioned... nor was my past drinking, or running away, or just being a general screwup. Instead, I was treated with dignity and respect, and common courtesy.
My brother, Rick greeted me sleepily, when I got there. He didn't complain that it was almost midnight. He showed me to my room and bathroom, and told me to make myself at home.
The next morning, I went to eat breakfast with him and his new bride of 6 months. I was kind of expecting him to put me down about my weight, in front of her, but he didn't. There was a wreck right outside the window, and we all gasped collectively, as several people pulled out their cell phones to call 911. After that, the general conversation centered on how dangerous it is to drive in Phoenix.
I stayed at Rick's from Monday, early a.m., until Friday, early a.m. As I sit here typing this, I am waiting for him to get up, as I do not want to leave without saying goodbye. Something tells me that would be a little rude.
I almost left last night, well actually I thought I had left. He made sure I had everything. When I got one mile down the road, he called. I had left my swim clothes out by the pool. I came back to get them, told him thanks, again, and as I was getting into my car I told him I loved him. He said, me too, and I could see tears on his face. After that, I decided to stay one more day.
I am so glad I got to spend this time with my brother. I felt like I didn't even know him before, but now I know he can be a funny, fun-loving, and loving person. And another thing surprised me: so can I.

 

Well, it's Monday, May 16th, the first actual day of my paid vacation. I am SO glad not to be at work today! I made it to my brother's house in Phoenix (Peoria), Arizona. Last night I was treated to a gorgeous sunset, as I rode west through New Mexico and Arizona. There were beautiful shades of light pink and blue, as if someone had taken a paint brush and stroked it across the sky. There were majestic mountains behind. The whole scene was picturesque.
I left Shreveport (Bossier City) yesterday morning at 6:30 a.m. and arrived here around 1 a.m. I don't recommend driving 1300 miles straight in one sitting, but hey, if the mood strikes you, I say go for it! I never really got that tired or sleepy, but after about 18 hours I did start to get some aches in my neck and arms. I'm much better now, after a good night's sleep.
I took a tape recorder with me on this trip. I have been recording various thoughts and observations as I travel from the East coast to the West. Some were about the landscape, and about the names of some of the cities and rivers. Some were just about what was going on inside my head. Driving is a way of meditating for me. How does that song go, "I'm not crazy, but I can get there." Earl Thomas Conley sings it. Everybody needs a vacation now and then.

I have been both excited and anxious about this trip for quite some time, now. Now that I'm actually doing it, I am having a great time. People have been telling me, about all the places I'd see on the way, and what I should check out. It's kind of like riding a roller coaster. You can stand there all day and watch people ride it, but until you actually get on it yourself and go up and down the hills, you don't actually experience the thrill.

Life is not without its stresses, though. I am still feeling the aftereffects of lack of sleep for the past few days. The night before I left, I stayed up finalizing my plans, and packing. Then in Shreveport, I was told I would have to take a smoking room, since that was all they had. Guest services told me there was no guarantee, just because I had made a reservation for a NON-smoking room, that I would get one. I was polite to the attendant, but inside I was fuming. Once I get that angry, it is hard for me to sleep, I guess because of the adrenaline running through my veins. I think I need to look into meditating, or learn how not to react negatively to situations, or maybe even take an anger management class. If I had a laptop computer, I could have written out my feelings. Sometimes that is good therapy.
Bottom line is I am highly sensitive to cigarette smoke. When I smell it, my throat wants to close up, my sinuses get stuffy, my chest feels tight, and my eyes burn. This is not only when I am around someone who is currently smoking, but even when I am somewhere where someone has previously smoked. I know not all smokers are inconsiderate, but some are. At work, they stand right by the entrance door where everybody has to walk into the building to get to work. It is not something I look forward to each day, coming into work, or going home. When I get on an elevator, and someone who has just smoked a cigarette has been on there previously, I can smell it and it bothers me physically, not to mention mentally.
Okay, so there I've had my gripe. The second bottom line is, I am not going to miss being at work for the next 2 weeks, and I am going to enjoy myself, wherever I go, and whatever I do. One of my favorite quotes from the Big Book of AA is, "We absolutely insist on enjoying life!"

 

Confederate Railroad is playing in Bossier City, Louisiana Saturday night. I called to try and get tickets, and a lady said to call back and talk to "Valerie" before noon the next day. I called and called the next day, and kept getting a busy signal. Finally, I got through, only to get a recording, so I left a message stating that I would like to purchase tickets and included my phone number. Days went by, and no one called me back... so I resorted to what some might consider desperate measures.
Yesterday I called Wayne, the bass player. I've had his number for years, but try not to abuse the privelege. Maybe I call him once or twice a year. He is always friendly and accomodating, but I usually catch him at a busy moment. Once, I called when he was having carpet installed, so it was just a quick hello, how are you, and I hope everything is copacetic kind of conversation.
When I called yesterday, he said he was working. I didn't ask questions: who knows, maybe they are recording a new album! I assumed he would be free as most of the concert gigs they do are at night. So I got straight to the reason for my call. I didn't go into details why, but I just told him I was having trouble getting tickets but I would really like to see the band while I was on vacation this weekend.
He asked if I was talking about the show in Corpus Christi, and I told him no, the one at Roper's Nightlife in Bossier City. To my surprise, he said, "No problem... just call me the day of the show and I'll put you on the guest list."
Just like that... problem solved. I told him, "Thank you very much. I appreciate it" and he told me no problem.
Now I am really looking forward to the show Saturday night. I will be driving six hundred miles but I have driven farther than that to see Confederate Railroad before. Besides, they are about one third of the way to Phoenix, where I'll be going to visit my brother.
I'm not really looking forward to that as much, because I have never gotten along with this particular brother. He is the oldest and moved out of the house when I was three or four, so I feel like he doesn't even know me. That has never stopped him from making critical and judgemantal comments about my life, as if he has never done anything wrong. Oh well, we'll see how it goes. I might have to bite my tongue to keep from responding to his attacks.
After that I'm going to see a dear friend in California, whom I haven't seen for six years. She was at the hospital the day of my surgery, when I had cancer. I am really looking forward to catching up on stories with her. She likes it out there because she is close to her daughters. I feel like a daughter to her, as she is 21 years older than me, but she is more like a friend than anything. She doesn't tell me what to do; just mostly listens and offers her experience, strength and hope.
I don't know when I'll have the chance to update my blog in the next three weeks. Perhaps I can use Becky's computer, or my brother Rick's. It will be kind of strange if I have to go that long without writing! I am becoming so used to it now.
By the way, they never did call about the tickets. I might mention that when I get there (in a friendly way, of course).
 

The first few lines of this poem came to me when I woke up. The rest of the day I kind of blocked my feelings out, not wanting to achknowledge that it is Mother's day. It has been 3 and 1/2 years since my Mom passed on, and what I regret the most is that our relationship was not always what either of us wanted it to be. But deep down, I know we loved each other in our own ways, especially her love for me. Sometimes she would say she felt like she had failed me, but I kind of feel like it was the other way around. Oh well, I guess no one's relationship with their mother, or any parent, is perfect. In the end, it's the love that we remember the most.


Good morning, Momma
It's mother's day
I love you, Momma
And this I pray

That you'll know,
I love you so.
I never wanted
You to go.

I'll always know
You loved me so
You gave me love
Like God above

You knew my faults
But through it all
You stood by me
So tenderly

Thank you, Mom
For being strong
For loving me
I could not see

How much you gave
How you were brave
But now I know
I miss you so




 

It seems Duluth, Ga. (just a few miles away where my brother lives) is gaining a lot of national media attention, lately. First, there was Ashley Smith, who convinced courthouse shooter Brian Nichols to turn himself in. Then last week police searched for the "runaway bride", only to have her show up in Albuquerque, NM a few days later. Seems she had butterflies about her upcoming nuptials. One of the local newspapers had a headline, "Cold feat" on Sunday. It's no wonder, the way they were planning on having 600 guests (and 14 bridesmaids)! I do think that she shouldn't have lied about being abducted, though.
It's getting closer to my 18-day vacation starting when I get off of work Friday, May 13th. I'm thinking about stopping in Bossier City, Louisiana to see one of my favorite bands, Confederate Railroad. I talked to Wayne, the bass player, briefly the other day. (He was out on the golf course when I called him). He told me to have a nice trip and to be safe. They really are good people.
 

About a month ago I entered a contest called Blogfest 2005 on writingstuff.com, and today I received an email saying I had won 7th place ($50)! Woo-hoo! My first writing assignment that turned out to be lucrative. Talk about encouragement... this makes me want to keep on writing, to my heart's content. Now I am looking forward to just putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and seeing what happens!