Happy Birthday To Me

Today is important, but only to me. Today I begin to explore my 7th decade on the planet. Today I plan to lay down new trails for more serious exploration, to turn away from old pathways that led me into soul’s harm – imaginary pain, taking offense where none was intended, poor habits of health, seeking not the perfection of the moment in the simple ease of drawing breath.

I might ask what I have learned & jot some notes: wordsmithing is a fine art, worthy of paeans of praise, but only in a literate society. It is a far better art to adjust to where the world lives now & dwell there. Yet in the places I cannot bring myself to gather up & enter – the worlds of Facebook & Twitter & Gab – so much energy surges, pulses, quivers upon itself, turning about & racing free. At times, I like the idea of hive mind; but only when applied to flocks of birds turning as one over the face of sunset. Humans need to unite over more than surface stimulus & unity of heartmind is so much more important than the latest line dance. Although I must admit, one might lead to the other.

Recently, I participated in a play called “Beyond A Reasonable Doubt.” it wore so many attributives: but mostly it was a moment of intense focus wherein all my energy applied. It was triumphant, except where it was not, where I took umbrage at my own mind’s seeming incapacity to remember long passages of mono/dialogue. And at others’ seeming inability to recall these as well. I lost my intensity as I reflected personal frustrations outward.

Recently, I took on an office job, thinking a return to a regular paycheck would remedy some immediate financial needs. Yesterday was my last day there, after six weeks. I simply could not relate to it in the way I once did.

Last night I did a 90-minute massage on a woman with self-diagnosed fibromyalgia. It was a barter that her friend offered to grant her ease from constant discomfort. I observe how the world goes around, kindness touching upon gift.

This morning I awake & seek new habits for myself. Once again free from rigorous scheduling. Momentarily, I scheme upon what I need to acquire, the “this n thats” of a life already out of balance financially. I opt instead for choosing new screen savers. From a wide open, sunny beach, I travel to misty mornings with a far dragon lifting wings upon her hill. This would seem a more fitting approximation of status. Comfort needs to rise above need – & a realization that I already am comfortable precedes acquisition. I offer “so help me, God” not as an affirmation of innocence, but as a softening prayer, for I alone am unable to overcome some ideas which need to be removed from the forefront. I need to turn the kaleidoscope one small twist. I choose to be more giving in the light of other’s gifts. None of us can afford largesse in my circles, yet we all practice it assiduously. Hive mind, indeed.

Lest this all seem too heavy for a promising morning to a day of celebration, I offer up a chuckle at how things turn out. The play was a grand success here in town. Word got out that it was good & we had a great audience turnout – a marvel in this half-horse town. I was lauded at a local restaurant with recognition … both a blush a treat! I’m told our play garnered more than any other offered this year by the local community theatre group. It caused rifts – one stagehand took umbrage at being told not to use her cellphone during performance, sitting in the audience. Obvious? But two people quit over it, while another was castigated by a fourth’s unwarranted accusations. More learning. Here, where a hive mind should have united in pleasure of success lay emotional carnage.

And lest this all be too heavy for a September morning where you live, ponder this: it seems to be a custom that the cast gives each other gifts…so because my character complained loud & long about having to wear manacles during the plea bargain session, our director gifted me with fur-lined handcuffs. Yesterday morning, I hid them in three different places before leaving for work; none safe enough from imagined burglars. I cast mind all day about where to pass these on…I’m not one for holding onto anything I cannot use in the immediate (!) nor intend to use in the near future (!). I dare not bring these to any of our local thrift shops…all goods are brought inside & inspected at these. And “re-gifting” them is far beyond my contact list.

From the sublime to the mundane with the stroke of a pen. Guess I can leave them in the packaging for my heirs to ponder when I’m gone. Guess I’ll continue to live well so as not to have this be soon…I can see me blushing from the afterlife!

Be well upon your days, my friends. Rest easy in your minds & hearts. Bring love to every encounter. Never surrender your ideals for less & always be aware how easy it is to fall in love just a little bit every day.

Aging to Perfection…

Mortality / Schmortality

Third person me

She walks with the confidence

Of a big-breasted woman

35 a dim echo as its double approaches

No long gray tresses here,

But short, sharp spikes

For the divine connection.

 

Thick around her center

Description: Rubenesque

Undefined by Twiggy-standards

A short, Italian fireplug of female

Passions wrapped in brain & heart;

Sharp-tongued, less than tolerant…

Strong hands, a wrinkly smile

Entering her eyes first.

 

She’s tasted risk & lived on love

Fearless, present; a solid woman

Ready for the next act

The third trimester of

Maiden, mother, crone.

 

Age Happens

Long after youth has fled the parade

Life lengthens beyond

Childhood

Adolescence

Adulthood

An unerring arrival (never expected)

It takes up residence

In spots, in strangely-shaped vein whorls.

It’s a celebration & a culmination

A triumph & a terror –

Not that it will end poorly,

But that it may not be well-accomplished.

 

The Divine Miss B

Age is the last factor of life

Positive on the balance sheet

But only after you’ve gotten past

All other negotiations.

 

At first, it was a nuisance

I asked for laugh wrinkles, but this?

Ridiculous!

The 50’s slipped by

The 60’s kind of danced along

Now, here I stand at 70:

The threshold of being Born Again

Having it finally, my way.

 

Being able to ignore the life-beast

Or take it to bed,

Suck it dry:

I rise triumphant!

 

My birthday hides in September

I have tried, am trying, to pay my debts

To be faithful to the oligarchs

Who file their nails at my door

Yawning as they await their monthly checks.

I have a Final Solution for you all…

It might be the best payment I can come up with…

When I am dead, someone scatter my ashes

In front of the banks.