YIELD!

I’ve been curiously absent these last days from posting what normally is a lot of work. I try to schedule those, by the way, so that they don’t all hit at once. I suppose I could schedule them for different days but I post them that way for a reason. Think of it as clearing off my mental desk in preparations for the next idea (and there are some days with a LOT of them) to manifest.

I was working at a factory on a rotating shift. The days were 12 hours long and usually 2-3 in succession with 2-3 days off in between bouts. Back in May I had surgery on my foot to correct an ongrowing issue (my nerve had grown around one of my main foot arteries, good pun, eh?) and within a couple of months I felt amazingly good again. I could walk! I could dance! I could jog (sort of, think Mario running without turbo). I felt so good I applied for an got the job. For three months I worked diligently to maintain my personal belief and work ethic by being consistently in attendance, observant to detail, and team oriented. I believe I maintained that throughout my employment.

A few days ago, while working a position that required far more dexterity than my hands could handle, I lost feeling in my fingers. Not only did I lose feeling in my fingers but I lost grip as well. I could no longer hold onto the parts. My co-worker refused to switch jobs because she was fine. I explained that I was not. She refused again. I went and spoke with my supervisor and told her that I couldn’t feel my fingers and my hands wouldn’t hold onto the parts. She said, “Okay.” and walked away. When I don’t feel heard, my frustration level doesn’t take much to push me over the edge. I just plain waited until break and contacted my employer. I was told to go home, finish out the next day and they’d find me something else to do.

From my previous post The heated battle, you may recall that I’ve been struggling to find something better suited to my gifts, needs, and requirements of financial responsibility. I believe I’ve found this particular niche. Jamie Lopez asked me a peculiar question which incited ridiculous thoughts in my brain. I only half committed to her idea. But the thought was persistent. It stood up and plinked my forebrain like a form of water torture. It whispered, “You should do this. You should do this. You should do this.” I tried to ignore it, but it was really difficult when that’s all I could focus my attention on doing. I consulted with my Mama, tossing the idea in the air with clumsy juggles, sparking further ideas until the seed had firmly taken root. I let it rest in the “earth.”

Without much ado, a couple of nights ago, my Uncle Les called me. He’s not a frequent caller, but when he does, I always know that I’m so loved by him and my Aunt Liz that I look forward to when he has time. He called me up and asked me, “Hey, do you remember Jim Bob?”

“I do. That’s Aunt Liz’s nephew, right?”

“Yes. I was thinking about you and I usually do, by the way,” he continued.

“Thanks!” I interrupted.

“You’re welcome. Anyway, his wife works out of her home. I thought of you because you’re a compassionate woman and an excellent writer, I think you could do what she does.” He stated firmly. “I think you need to be doing this.” And he explained word for word what I’d talked to my mother, was inspired by Jamie, and pondered about for two weeks.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned that paying attention to the omens when they come that clearly is a wise move. Otherwise, the Universe quits presenting the idea to you and gives it to someone else. In the past couple of days, I’ve retrieved my EIN (Employer Identification Number), set up a Paypal, applied for a business license, bought and started setting up a domain, secured an 877 number, and applied for information about advertising.

Although it may seem as if I’ve been slower than normal or that I’ve taken a vacation, I’m actually working towards being able to do what I love more than anything to do which is write for a living. This is scary stuff in my book, but I feel the have to becoming more prominent. It’s really strong and I know it’s right.

On November 3rd, I’ll be launching the site, the business, and making sure that I have myself priced accordingly. How weird is that? With the time on my hands right now, I can make sure that I’m able to deliver top quality of a valuable and perpetuating service that everyone will need. I’m so excited that your patience is allowing me this time to bring this idea into full bloom. Let’s see what happens, shall we?

Sin-seriously

I don’t want to know the killer’s name or how it did its deeds.
I want to know the wo/men’s lives because therein lies the key.
To make the dead, neither sinner nor saint
but to revive their lives that are stained with the taint
of the bloodied hands of a death most gruesome
the details don’t matter in all the confusion
except to remember the lives that were lost
not glorify the murderer of stolen future’s cost

Air Weaving

What the people around me don’t know

is that I am hyper aware

of all their dirty secrets

that are woven in their hair.

Events, they rarely touch me

no matter what they be

mind over mind redundant

crystal clear I see

The patterns of the lives that pass

right before my eyes

are rainbow colored epiphanies

pure as a summer sky.

But things are never simple

they’re never in a line

Things do not run linear

scatter fields of emotional land mines

Because people lie

and people thieve

and people want to win

People hurt each other

as if it’s not a sin

I witness every nuance

each glance

or expression

they try to hide

I’ll keep all their secrets

locked up safe inside.

If they ask me for the key

which they rarely do

I backhand them bluntly

straightening the askew.

The Wailing Wall

I used to know a baby that shined a holy halo from the crown of his head.

When anger or hurt would come near him he’d shiver and cower in his bed.

The rawness of the world took away his glow, even then as an infant small,

He knew that everything he’d do would not be enough to save them all.

I once knew a boy that shined a dimming halo from the crown of his head

He used anger or hurt that came near him as his tools against the dread

The blackness in the world stole away his glow, even then as a boy not tall,

He knew that anything he’d do wouldn’t be enough to save his own downfall.

I once knew a man that shined a flourishing coin between his fingers misled

When aggressive words would punish him, he’d just smile with his words unsaid.

The evils of the world had shown him what to know, but his spirit heard the call

He knew that everything he owned was becoming holy, his bed his own prayer shawl.

I used to know a man that shined a holy halo from the crown upon his head.

No anger, hurt, or hypocrisy could touch him as he’d stand tall among the dead.

The disregard of the material plane was now everything, he’d shed

The rawness of the world returned his spirit glow, even as he’s enthralled

He knew that his place as a “Miracle Man” was found at the Wailing Wall.