Category Archives: Human

TAMP: A.S. aka The End

I’ve heard it said

many a time

if I would have known

that it was the last time

I’d ever see him

then I would have hugged him tightly

Kissed him with a lover’s kiss

whispered in his ear

that I loved him.

I’ve heard it said

many a time

that it’s the little things I miss the most

the tilt of his head

the way he smelled of grass

and just him

a burst of giggles or

a gust of laughter

or the silent conversations.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again

I knew it was the end

of every promise never broken

of every dream deserted

of match-strike passion extinguished

I knew that because of my fear

there would be no returning to what was

I KNEW…and I did nothing.

The End

I See You

Kaleidoscope_13I see you. You are not invisible to me. When I look at you, you wear no clothes. You wear no physical form. There is a ball around your body that lights up when you’re around people you like and dims when you’re not fond of them. The ball has colors and patterns that are spectacularly blended to me. I see you.

You’re a kaleidoscope of vivid colors that ebb and flow depending on how you move the liquid essence that you float in unwittingly. Where there is pain, I see the darkness. Where there is love, I see the light. Where you reside is usually a central color that tells me everything I need to know about you. I am a voyeur of sorts but not the creepy kind. I will not jump from your closet unexpectedly one night. I will meet you on the terms you’ve established. Because I can feel your intent.

I’m sorry if you feel I’ve invaded your privacy. I don’t know how to turn it off. I don’t really don’t want to because it’s served me so well. It’s proven invaluable to me to seek others of the light. It’s proven invaluable to me when I know I can’t trust a person because they are too consumed by material things to know they’re spiritual beings. It’s guided me effectively to incredible experiences through people with knowledge so deeply profound that I sometimes weep with gratefulness while others cause me deep caution.

It’s a feeling of authentic appreciation of identity that can only bloom with the watering of confidence when I see people that fit into their spirits; That “get it”. When I see someone working actively to grow into their spirits, I can forgive almost anything they do because I witness the evolution of color as if a perfect painting were in the works and I get to watch the brushstrokes fall on the canvas. It’s glorious to see. My gift allows me the privilege without effort.

There are also people who are not exactly dark and not exactly light. They are in a flux between worlds. The material world grabs their ankles and wrists tugging them away from their destiny. Their spirit self does a watoosie trying to find footing, trying to fill in the blanks. There are some that stand in this disarray and cry out that they don’t know who they are or that they don’t know what they’re doing. Nobody knows for sure what we’re doing. We just come up with a plan and see how it pans out. If we’re lucky, we have guides to show us the way out. I am one of those guides but I don’t know everything.

It is increasingly difficult when I feel as if I am carrying/dragging them towards the light. They start off saying, “Oh yes! I really want to do something different and I really like your ideas. Let’s go on this journey together.” I comply and we have long talks deep into the night. The kind that feels like it is the most important conversation I’ll ever have. For that moment in time that glimpse into the moonlight or the daylight it truly is. The intensity can’t be matched because it is so relevant. It is crucially real. But they fall back asleep and forget that we’d every spoken the conversation. With some, that shine so brightly but fear themselves, I keep trying to wake them up because I believe they need to be; because they said they wanted to be.

I don’t say anything to people who are dark. I don’t squeal with delight when I see them. Their wounds run far too deep for me to do anything other than shine a light at the end of their tunnel and coax them from sleep if they’re ready. There have been times when words came out of my mouth that weren’t mine but were intended for a particular person. Just like that, it’s as if a small miracle, sometimes large, happens but it isn’t mine. That’s when my light can reach into that dark place and help bring them home to the light where they belong. Those are the people that shoot past me like a rocket grinning from ear to ear on the tides of self-discovery and I cherish each one that finds that place. I do not gift them because it’s already theirs as it is yours. I may just nudge the light a tad to the right so they can see they’re really okay.

But I can’t carry them. I can’t wake them up. I can’t do that. I can’t pick someone up and force them to embrace their colors. It is ALWAYS the individual choices that color their spirits. It is ALWAYS their responsibility. I learned this and other rules of engagement when watching the masterpieces I encounter.

I can’t tell people what color they will become but I can tell them what color I see. The colors don’t have traits as much as they have emotions attached to them. When I see the colors and I really like them, I have to wait. I can’t immediately bond with them because rarely, but it does happen, they are wearing someone else’s colors. Like maybe they had a bad interaction with someone so it clouds their spirit or they’ve just received great news and are wearing that instead of their normal vestments. It’s the wolf in sheep’s clothing that causes me to ease my steps.

The physical being, the way you wish people to see you comes second. When I see someone that matches their physical self with their spirit self, it’s a feeling of home. It’s a feeling of such personal integrity, I think, “YOU! You’re there!” Sometimes it surprises me so much to find an authentic person that I actually say that out loud. There are many people who come close to matching but, it’s like they choose the wrong pair of socks or the wrong shade of happy. It’s just enough off for me to recognize that they’re missing parts of themselves or aren’t aware they are. It is my experience that it’s typically the latter.

The physical being does matter. I don’t wish you to have the wrong impression. I do see it, but not until I’ve peered through the spirit. When I tell someone that they are beautiful, I see them as I’ve described to you. I wish I could paint each person so they could see their beauty too. As if, if I could create them on canvas, they might appreciate their own divinity that seems apparent to me. But instead I’ll follow the advice of my kind Uncle Les who said, “Mare, whatever you do, keep doing it. The world needs more of it.” So it is written, so it is done.

My intention towards work

Howdy!

I really love to interact with people. I love when they smile. I dig when they don’t (I take that as a personal challenge). But sometimes my intentions become caught up in the quagmire of mundane activities. They become muddied with the have to side of the room because that wall got taller for me recently. (Referring to: https://maremartell.com/2014/04/16/box-up-your-crap-part-one-the-spirit-self/).

I started a job a little over a month ago that works very long hours and causes my 46 year old body to fall into an achy sleep about an hour after arriving home. It is a necessary evil since the migration of youth left under shady pretenses. It is necessary in order to survive.

I have an interview in less than an hour at another place to use as a tool to get myself and husband out of where we are and to where we wish to be. This is a temporary wall item. It will help me get where I ultimately want to go. I accept that this toll it charges at this time will get easier. I accept that with this toll comes the benefit of succeeding. I accept the abundance and prosperity that I’m working so diligently to achieve. I’m worth it. My husband is worth it. My life is worth it.

It will not always be this way, it just needs to be right now. I accept this willingly because the end results will be a grand relief.

I state it as such because I’ll probably whine about it later. 🙂 I just wanted there to be proof that I know what I’m doing at this time. Well, that’s not accurate. I have a plan. There. That’s better.

The Shamed Undone

Cross-bones

Cross-bones

I loved my darkness as much as my birth

My humanity imposed upon my divinity

With mild impunity or dire consequences.

The pixel width line of temperance

United with my poor balance of judgment

Toppled me into temptation

But my deliverance from the Shamed

Came when I opened my spirit

But kept my flesh firmly attached

To the bones that threatened to break

The bones that are now, nearly,

Washed free from my repugnant regret

With a redemption I didn’t deserve

But am ultimately worthy of having.

I strive now, at the knees of wisdom

To fulfill my obligation to the Light

because the alternative…

…Is an inky hate that tastes horrible.

…Is a tar sand of volcanic corruption.

…Is the destruction of my own construction.

…Is laying in wait to assassinate me.

I wait no longer than necessary to stand.

I wait no longer than necessary to defend.

I must balance. I have to. My soul depends on it.

What are the 100 most commonly used words in English?

http://dictionary.reference.com/help/faq/language/t14.html

For fun, I read the words out loud as if I were reading a child a story. It entertained me. Go ahead, it won’t cost you anything but a minute.

These are the most common words in English, ranked in frequency order. The first 100 are said to make up about half of all written material. The first 25 make up about one-third of all printed material in English and the first 300 make up about sixty-five percent of all written material in English: the, of, and, a, to, in, is, you, that, it, he, was, for, on, are, as, with, his, they, I, at, be, this, have, from, or, one, had, by, word, but, not, what, all, were, we, when, your, can, said, there, use, an, each, which, she, do, how, their, if, will, up, there, about, out, many, then, them, these, so, some, her, would, make, like, him, into, time, has, look, two, more, write, go, see, number, no, way, could, people, my, than, first, water, been, call, who, oil, its, now, find, long, down, day, did, get, come, made, may, part. (Source: Fry, Edward Bernard et. al., The Reading Teacher’s Book of Lists, 4th Edition. Paramus, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 2000.) Another study, The Brown Corpus Standard Sample of Present-Day American English (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1979), cites: the, of, and, to, a, in, that, is, was, he, for, it, with, as, his, on, be, at, by, I, this, had, not, are, but, from, or, have, an, they, which, one, you, were, all, her, she, there, would, their, we, him, been, has, when, who, will, no, more, if, out, so, up, said, what, its, about, than, into, them, can, only, other, time, new, some, could, these, two, may, first, then, do, any, like, my, now, over, such, our, man, me, even, most, made, after, also, did, many, off, before, must, well, back, through, years, much, where, your, way.

The Dead Among Us

Nobody guards the living dead.

That wander around among us.

We can no longer smell their decay

Or witness their festering pus

The stories you’re told protect you

Against the sacred forever sleep.

Work harder than you need to

Pray your soul for them to keep

I hate mourning the living dead

That can’t remember the words

To the songs that living humans sing

To the tunes of the cawing birds

The crackling fear that reaps us clean

Of dastardly deeds and acts unseen

Retrieves us back from comfort one

At rising dawn or setting sun

I hate that the fear leaves things unsaid

That fear that the coffin will spring open

like a jack-in-the-box’s bouncing head

 scaring the life out of your heart

as it sucks you up in one whole part.

 Yes.

 Nobody guards the living dead.

Ancient Tomes

dustybooksThere is a mummified shroud

unraveling in our spirits
that are delivered with gusts

of gauzy breaths
revealing chapter, verse,

the context and content
of our lives lived
by the turning of our pages
to reveal
the chapters of our hearts
to one another
in labored, birthing, unity.

extend humanity outward
like a library of reciprocal knowledge
donate your gifts to fill your coffers
 
Teach from the trenches

Learn from the quarry
Bloom from the crap
Shine from the darkness

Believe from the silence

Joy from despair

Triumph from resistance

Freedom from oppression

Meaning from Understanding

Wino Confessions

After a bottle of wine I like to confess things to my husband.

I like to tell him of how I felt when I first laid eyes on his face;

how my heart raced, how my eyes teared up, how I forgot to breathe.

I like to tell him how I didn’t want to believe that he existed

because then it would mean I live surreal.

Even now, I feel shy putting this down from my fingertips.

The same fingertips that have traced every inch of his body.

The same fingertips that he’s kissed when I burn them on dinner.

The same fingertips that smooth out his blankets when I make the bed.

The same fingertips that boop his nose to see if it still works. (It does.)

I like to tell him how I’d follow or lead or walk beside him anywhere.

I like to tell him that he’s the funniest man I know,

that he leaves me breathless with laughter and breathless with love.

I like to tell him with great earnestness that he brought me to life

even though I thought I already was, but not in this way. Not in this time.

I would still be me without him, but not the same me I am now.

I’m a better human with him nearby. I’m able to freely explore the world.

After a bottle of wine, I like to confess to my husband; my always, truly.

Lost Sunday

Go away.
He sat in the back seat using his hands as a rosary
praying to holy mother Rosemary his sin not be discovered.
The violation of my air space undetected by his stealth
suddenly had air raid sirens blaring loudly,

“HOW DARE YOU?!” upon my radar screen
while I drove away and prayed the guards were adept.

The old sweater

A sweater should be warm and generous to snuggle safely into when it's chilly.

A sweater should be warm and generous to snuggle safely into when it’s chilly.

 

I loved that sweater.

I adored the warmth and the way it smelled like motherhood.

I loved the softness that it offered, the tenderness of triumphant love

I embraced the patterns, the textures, the shifting colors, the lengthening tide

It was my favorite that I brought out whenever I needed to put on my very best outfit

But I snagged it on a dream that stuck out         from the wall just a little too far, too far.

It kept getting caught every time I’d pass         through that doorway into the other room.

I kept meaning to fix that spot on the wall         but there never seemed to be enough time.

The picture of us at Christmas,

(I was wearing that sweater) hangs askew

with chipped glass over my face

That should be non-glaring, but the faces,

the fake happy faces, glare

back at me ungenerously.

I couldn’t see it then.

The sweater was covering my eyes with promises

of generational family traditions.

I wore the sweater f

a

ith

ful

ly

and wondered why

it kept getting smaller.

Why didn’t it fit any more?

As I look back,

I see the many tangles,

knots,

frays,

and trail offs

of disconnect-

-ed

yards

of

yarn.

I mourn for my favorite sweater.

I loved that sweater.