Category Archives: Dude

Bob’s backyard

Just after shooting this video, a goldfinch joined the party. A red-bellied woodpecker also came to enjoy the offering of black oil seed.

Bob returned home after 6 months of being gone. He’s in such a good mood I had to scrape him off the ceiling with a spatula. My Beastie and I moved everything out of his apartment and back to his house.

Mocha enjoyed a pup cup today with deep passion.

It was all over her face.

In other news, last year I asked to do an art installation in the local park frequented by people who walk, run, stroll, etc. on the paths. The city said no, they don’t allow any kind of signs along that pathway in the park.

I sent them samples of the signs I wanted to place. Like “If you’re here, you’re awesome!” “You’re amazing!” “Keep going, you’ve got this!” “You are loved.” But they still said no. That irritated me enough that I made and gave out over 300 1” buttons that said, “Be L❤️ve”.

Although that sated my thirst for a bit, I wondered if I was thinking too small. Turns out, I was!

As part of the Stewardship drive at my church, anyone who pledged for the year got:

I didn’t have permission to post this person’s picture so I disguised 🥸 them. But the SIGNS!

I designed them with a bit of editing and encouragement from my Bestie (Jen Stark suggested Live Joy) and input from Lóre Stevens (Create). Now, those signs will be all over my city all because I was told No. HA! Each one a stake of rebellion and I’m bursting with joy!

You can order here

Absent

I have been absent for quite a while. I’ve set down some of my volunteer work. I’ve spent a lot of time being. Sometimes busy, sometimes not, but primarily I’ve been focusing on building the life I want to live; the one I enjoy and relish so dearly.

In the next month or so, I’ll be picking up my roots that are over five years deep and moving down the road a spell to take care of a human who, at this point, requires stupidvision with a dash of management. It’s scary to think I won’t have my safe haven anymore, but it’s thrilling to explore the world from different perspectives.

This is a big deal in my life, but not in the world. Most people probably won’t even notice my change of address. I will. Most people won’t even think twice about my new living situation. I will. I’ve determined that the risk is worth the outcome. I will do this. It will be good. I’m already happy.

Transition from one phase to another is a challenge, but change is as sure as death and taxes. I’m embracing this new direction with the fervor of devotion to myself.

Thank you for your patience.

Deconstruction

At twenty-one I planned to die,

with a beer in one hand while getting high.

Nobody could see me, I didn’t exist

I screamed myself hoarse

while in their midst

Ironically, I didn’t tell

the secrets I had borne in hell

Imploding shrapnel from darkest places

Repulsed by misleading “loving” embraces

As I grew older, I refused my name

Pushing anger towards familial blame

I gave away my power

before it could be taken

If someone actually saw me,

they’d surely be mistaken

I never did because I knew I never could

It didn’t matter the effort

no matter how good.

I believed pain was love

because that’s what I was shown

Throughout my childhood

into the adult-self grown

I was Destructive in the sense that I had to tear down who I thought I was, who I believed myself to be. I had to dismantle the neglect, anger, bitterness, and apathy that were hidden under the guise of Love. Some of the wounds still ran blood. Some of them still had the knife protruding from my body. I walked around a victim, convinced I would cease to exist one day and that event would go unnoticed, under-appreciated, and quickly forgotten.

I was lied to, given gossip about my unworthiness for breakfast. I was taught values: The value of my vagina, the worthlessness of being barren, that I deserved wrath and disdain because, after all, I was the one insane.

I was force fed my inferiority until i vomited the parrot back to those whom despised the thought of me. The people who used every flicker of my light to read and implement my oppression. I allowed it, encouraged it because they lied love in the guise of vulnerability.

Despite all of that, I’ve broken that cycle. I know I am worthy of love. I know I am loved. I know I am kind, compassionate, loving, giving, helpful, wickedly smart, emotionally intelligent, with the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy who relishes bad jokes, fart jokes, dad jokes, irreverent and dark jokes.

I have accomplished more in the last five years because I believe in myself, my power, my skill, my experience, and my North Star; my loving heart. And best of all, I have a cheerleading band of friends who both keep me grounded and celebrate my successes in flights of fancy.

What a fantastic journey I have forged from the ashes of my youth. Nourishing the needs of my soul/spirit has been the best present I’ve ever given to myself. It leaks into the world like a floodlight of hope. Even better than that? I know it’s rightfully mine.

Homeostasis

Survival mode stepped to the side
Allowing an informal reprieve from chaos
An acknowledgement of mutual security
The stability that came to dinner
Pulled up a chair and feasted gluttonously
On a childhood fantasy for totemic inclusion
Seized the steadfastness of a kinship
Situated in a sprawled right relationship
Ladling the gravy of laughter over
Legendary stories of affinity
A communion of flavorful moments
Savored in a homemade assurance of loyalty
With an abundance of whipped cream

Chickadee

On my front deck, I’ve allowed spiders to live as they will. There are several webs that are cluttered with carcasses of bugs. The hunters don’t hunt me, I feel good about being a steward to their dinners, and I can sit outside undisturbed by flying insects. Everyone wins.

While enjoying my morning prayers and ritual of Kawphy drinking, I heard a thump and saw a flutter at my front window. My curiousity piqued, I stepped to the window to see what happened, as did my cat.

Caught in one of the webs was the tiniest of chickadees, suspended in peril. I stepped out onto my porch to see if it were actually stuck. It’s beak was open and it appeared to be having difficulties breathing. I pulled the wicker chair away from the wall. To my horror, the little avian fell to the porch, wings outspread.

I gently picked it up from the porch allowing it to rest on my fingers. I slowly and carefully pulled away the web that was holding its wings. I noticed there was some web on it’s beak, so ever so gently, I pulled that away as well.

There I stood on my porch, holding this precious little creature. I cooed to it, told it how beautiful it was, and explained that it was free to go when it was ready. Together we waited.

Its head turning, tilting, and observing with its curiousity as sure as mine. It pooped on my hand, but I didn’t move. I was busy cherishing this rare occurence, reveling in the beauty of the intimacy I was sharing. I felt excitement, reverence, and in tune with the natural world.

This suspended time lasted for about five minutes before the bird took liberation from its ordeal. I watched it take off with an elation that I can only equate to winning a prize. In a way, I suppose I did.

Meeting of the Wounds

Yesterday was a wild ride. I took my friend to the orthopedic doctor to get an appraisal done on her freshly broken ankle. During the course of our conversation she said something that struck me deeply.

“When you’re meeting someone, you’re meeting their wounds.”

Dude. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

She went on to say, “People who have had trauma, bring that forward with them in various manifestations. People who are givers typically didn’t have enough and they don’t want others to feel that way so they tend to overgive.” (not exact quote but that’s what she said in essence)

People who were neglected may be overly attentive. People who were abused may be overly protective. People who were torn down regularly may be a powerful motivator to uplift others. People who got lost may find their way to their own path and lead others on theirs.

I had never considered the wounds of others. My focus has been on meeting people as they are right now. Sometimes the encounters are pleasant, others not so much. If it’s not ideal, I tend to grant personal grace because I don’t know why they would do or act in such a manner.

Understanding that I’m meeting all of their wounds and successes really honed in on my understanding of others. But, moreso, it forced me to realize how my wounds interact with the world.

I’ve worked incredibly hard to become the person that I want to be for my own satisfaction. I’ve taken what’s happened to me throughout my many chapters, discarded what didn’t work for my vision of myself and embraced my joy. I’ve struggled to understand where my life choices have brought me. I’ve battled with the traumas that changed my life directions.

And still, when I see other people out in the wild, I did not recognize, cognitively, their wounds are just as exposed as mine are. I didn’t look past the present to understand that their past is as valid to them as mine is to me. That sounds juvenile and a bit Pollyanna, but I WANT to understand. I want to help where I can because my feelings of helplessness, abandonment, degradation, and abuse profoundly changed me.

Some may say that those things were horrors, to which I’d have to agree. But, they were also a catalyst that’s propelled me forward into a level of self discovery, self appreciation, and self love that I don’t know I’d recognize without the impact of of those events in my life.

An online friend of mine has been writing about their own self-discovery. They are picking away scabs, examining the wounds, and putting healing energy where it’s needed in their soul. As I see it, that’s the bravest thing a person can do. The courage that it takes to bite into your own skeleton filled closet, examine the contents of your guts, digest the lessons that have been sorely learned is an incredible journey and not without adventure.

“You’re meeting people’s wounds” not just the current version of them, but all of their life and experiences. I’ll love them anyway because that’s who I am because of and despite my own wounds.

Apology

I’m asking for an apology

one I know I’ll never get

for every time you hurt me

for each of these regrets.

For every neglectful incident

for refusal to pull emotional weight

for your bitter anger towards me

for which I took the bait

For the disturbing blackmail

that you forced on me to pay

with the difference between want and need

being thrown up in my face

Abide with Life

I was sure I’d be dead by 21. I was positive I’d be married and have children. I was convinced that I would be married forever.

I’m 56 years old now. I live happily by myself with a pup and a cat for company. I’m surrounded by friends who love and celebrate me. I own my own business. And, weirdly enough, my path has become one of caregiving and spiritual with a focus on death and dying.

My 18 year old self, my 25 year old self, and even my 40 year old self wouldn’t recognize the life I have now. Possibilities have changed my life when I started saying yes and quit doing what I thought I should.

This life I build each day is a true adventure.

*%(&% Covid got me

Well that was an adventure I do not wish to revisit.

I started feeling off late on the 24th. Like, foggy froggy gross kind of off. Knowing that one of the places I frequent to visit clients had a recent outbreak that spread rather rapidly and even though I wore my mask and sanitized the dickens out of my hands, I thought to test.

On a Covid test, it tells the tester to set a timer for 15 minutes and read the results. Dudes, it wasn’t even a minute when I got the positive test. Yup, still the same at the 15 minute mark. I tested positive. FARTS!

I’ve avoided the plague for four years, but in my line of work of caregiving, I could only dodge the bullet for so long. I’m sorry my reign ended but I wouldn’t trade the time I had with my beloved clients to change that.

Three days of heavy flu-like symptoms, then a cough which gradually dwindled. Fever free on day 5. Feeling as normal as I can at 10 days out.

I hate being sick. I hate not being able to GO! GO! GO! It goes against my ethics, but I further know that if I don’t take care of myself, I’m setting myself up for failure. I’m not willing to fail. I’m not willing to give up. I’m not willing to surrender.