Blinded by Power & Force

There’s a Ren & Stimpy birthday card where they harmonize about having so many candles on the cake, keep the firemen standing by. If I had a cake for my birthday today, it would be a sheet cake & I’d need an actuary to place the bets on getting all the candles lit … or blown out. Happy birthday, me!

Indeed, happy birthday from my island, this timespace bubble wherein live my cells & thoughts – my Be Here Now.

I was recently told I’m “blinded by power & force.” Funny, this is a fresh, recognizable insight which drew an initial shocked breath & then an appreciative smile. Yup, I do think I’m ready to have the world turn My Way! I’ve described myself as “imperious” many times. My own mother called me Queenie as a toddler. Yet, I’m far removed from the notion of nobility. I am an American woman of Italian descent: I love laughter, being held, good conversation, an unexpected joke…I love spiraling pasta from the sauce & delicious travel.

I’ve arrived at 71 with limbs intact, a cheerful demeanor & a plethora of skin tags. If anyone were to connect the dots on my body, either I would ascend or they’d have the secrets of the universe. As if!

I know the P&F thing to be true. My best friend calls me “Zinger” for a no-holds-barred manner of speaking. In this town of complaint & repetition, I am indeed the Last Brain Standing. I am forever the cuckoo in a nest of robins, my big fat egg sucking up all the energy in the room. I am the most bristly child of Fortune!

My “accuser” stands to one side, in his own bubble of understanding. Do his words sum up all assessment on my 71 years on-planet? And tho accurate, he does himself disservice in his projection of this opinion. I’ve declared him too strange for me to take in & after three attempts to reconcile a bare knuckle friendship, I no longer do so. I have found myself in a fishwife stew, screaming aloud at a man who is not even my husband! No mas!

So, what’s the problem with Power & Force?

Shall I give in to the black pearl of life alone & despairing? (There are times when this is terribly attractive.) Shall I stop offering to help or sharing the graces I also possess? Nope. Not happening.

And if my lifestyle of personal success, blessing & laughter doesn’t bear your stamp of approval, so be it. I’ve gained two comfortable descriptors that fit like softened hand-me-downs. It’s good to be in my own cult. It’s good to have a brand name. I’ve dared the fields where angels feared to tread to choose my path. I am appreciated by students & clients, beloved by [some] friends. I don’t have time for the rest right now.

Last night I met a Siamese named Percy who carefully arranged himself across my lap & nipped me when I stroked him. I hesitated & reached again. He projected, “If you wish to touch my silken grandeur, I will tolerate it.”

I nip at times, too. I push people around. The days of “sweet, silly me” are well & long gone.

I do Tinkerbell as a nuke.

I’m a Real Woman, imperfect in sight & bearing. I accomplish what I perceive as mine to do. I didn’t get here by rolling off the surfboard when the tsunami appeared. I’ll stuff these two words in my Super Powers Backpack from Dollar General.

So, wish me a Happy Birthday, a level stretch in the road, some cash for the sock. Laugh at my chutzpah, mock my Jersey accent. I have New Mexico as my sky… And what I have, I share. In the time when a heart might be heartily scored, I can slam a shield of words in place. One day I may lay them down…or explode behind them. I take my chances.

I am both happier & sadder than anyone else I know. But mostly, I am grateful that I do not succumb to robin-hood, & if it took power & force to get me here, I also have more love in the abstract than most I know.

Come, my kingdom, my mismatched blessings; come my liars & Lovers, settle here with me. I don’t mind being nipped. Should it be required, I will put myself between you & an oncoming train. I will heal you from the heart out.

I will rock your world.

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.