These Are My People: Marge Swenson

aliciameninga

This is not Marge Swenson. This is my friend Alicia. I love this picture.

abstractmichigan

This is an abstract interpretation of the original picture, minus my friend Alicia. It was taken with my phone, so I apologize for the quality.

There she is with her cheeks shining diamond smiles

Her eyes laughing blue sparkles of periwinkle

She ripples with giggles that bubble fountain-like

Barely restrained by her excitement to honor her calling

I unquestioningly obey her request for open arms

I pull her close to me in spirit love and protection

Warmth and true affection.

“How are you today, my beautiful friend?”

She pushes me away but doesn’t release me

She looks up into my eyes declaring, “I love you, so much.”

We share mutual admiration, forever, for a moment.

I jest with her of how much I love to learn at her knee

To greet, to host, to welcome, to embrace our community.

She laughs at me as if I were the village idiot

I’m inept compared to her. She’s a Mistress of Greeters

I, her apostle.

When the torch is handed onward, I pray I can continue

To honor her beautiful spirit with jovial conviviality

That she displays with the grace of whispering breezes

The dance the spring time brings that blesses each blossom with life

In tandem with the warm embrace of the sun.

MargeSwenson

This is Marge Swenson. She’s one of my favorite people, hands down. She’s just lovely.

We Stand United

We Stand (this link will take you to SoundCloud) is a song written by Laura Davis. I wrote the lyrics for it while she did all the hard stuff with the music and performing.

When we came up with the idea, we’d just attended the protest for #blacklivesmatter It was truly inspirational and empowering.

Love Thy Neighbor No Exceptions

She approached me after I wrote a poem and asked if I’d be interested in collaborating. Sure, I thought, why not. I asked what she wanted the lyrics to include and she was adamant about them declaring unity in the name of love. Done deals. And so, with pen in hand, I stared out the window, drank a LOT of coffee, and 15 minutes later, I had the first two verses set up. She pushed and verse three with the chorus came flooding through. I didn’t hear back from her for a while, maybe a month or so. After church a couple weeks ago, she asked if I wanted to hear our baby. DUH!

We went into the sanctuary, opened the grand piano, and she began to play. I admit freely that I stood there crying as if I were hearing angels singing the song of love for all my brothers and sisters in the heart of equality. We hugged like new parents cooing over our newborn anthem.

I recorded it this week in that same sanctuary using my phone, of all things, and my computer. But none caught better sound (no mics, mixing boards, autotune, or anything like that) than one particular video which, with my limited home studio, I brought this out to show you.

We Stand is performed by Laura Davis

Music is written by Laura Davis

Lyrics by Mare Martell

2014, THIS IS OURS!

Walkers of the Sky

The Force was strong.

The Force was strong.

The pitch of cloudy moonless nights are harrowing

Despite the switch-back trail chosen to navigate

Maneuvering childish thoughts jagged and narrowing

You said, “Bring the child back home.”

The misty breathy wisdom cites a frightened wraith

With parental patient guidance blessed wisdom

Exhuming trust, from brittle bones, from a wild-haired waif

You said, “Return the child back home.”

With coward’s yellow pungent stench un-protecting

Winter’s breath of springing fallen truths disarming

The summer child sees comfort’s spirit connecting.

You whispered, “You’re safe. Come home.”

Falling of the Son

There is no tree bedecked with lights

to push away the coldest nights

There is no ornament in your name to hang

There are no bells, their music to clang

There will be no feast to honor the sun

There will be no hours of festive fun

There will be dust and ashes upon my hearth

With saddened heart absent, a disguise worn of mirth

As the tears refrain down memory lane

with whispers of the joy that remains

etched on the holiday with stains of your haint

re-purposing, recycling you into glorious saint.

I’ll stare out the window to witness the world sing

As I dread your fair haunting that this season brings.

Transitions

Solemnity spoke

Solemnity spoke

When death comes knocking at my door,

bony feet with dusting robes stepping on my floor

My fleshy shell will open to allow my spirit to soar

I will no longer look at the life of the living

wishing more time for regrets and forgiving

I will return to the spirit with thanksgiving

The height of my body will no longer matter

The color of my skin no longer the chatter

The question answered, my lifeline flatter.

I will gaze with love at those who surround me

with their beautiful faces weeping around me

and I will know that my life shined brightly.

As I pass from this life unto the end

In my very last moments I will attend

to touching your cheek and saying, “I love you, always, my beautiful friend.”

December 14, 2014

I apologize for the delay in posting. For someone that likes to spend time contemplating the Universe, volunteering on the fly, putting my hands “in the dirt” when it comes to getting a project done, I have been doing just that.

On Saturday, 12/13/14, I spent a bit of time with my husband, snuggled up and cuddly which is rare in this wild month. Then I headed over to the Dollar General store to clean out their candy supply so The Red Cross would have give-away for the Christmas Parade that evening. I came up short. Not only did I come up short, but I had to put some back. By the time I got done, I had, and I wish I was exaggerating, 13 cents to my name. At 5PM, I met Miss Sharon Crane at the Red Cross and we got ready to move out and line up. It was a ton of fun. Here is a picture of one of my favorite people and me in my Viking hat made by Freddie Nechtow.

Miss Sharon Crane and me

Miss Sharon Crane and me

After the parade was done, I got home a bit after 10PM. Then I had to get signs made up for the protest the following day.  I posted them previously, so I won’t redo that, but you can find them here. That kept me up until 2:30AM.

On Sunday morning I was exhausted, but knowing that I’d get a million hugs at church, I got up, got dressed, and drove over to ORUUC where I attend. I gave many hugs because we found out that a beloved member of our church had passed away. The waves of sadness washed over my heart and spirit already weary from physical exhaustion. It felt heavy in my heart. My arms gave comfort to anyone who asked. I felt compelled to offer far more than usual, but the feelings were also far more than usual. It was odd.

After a brief time at home, I dressed and headed down to K-Town to meet with people I didn’t know to join them. Here are a couple of pictures from that day. My friend Laura stood so proudly on the corner. It filled me with great joy to see her courage. Although I don’t want to post her picture without her permission, I wanted to mention that I love her very much.

LTN121314 protestgroup121314Then on Sunday night, I rested with my husband. On Monday, I started working with Not In Our Town to get a large donation moved and begin sorting through it to find out which agencies would best benefit everything we have assembled. That is working in conjunction with TORCH (Trinity Out-Reach Center of Hope) to provide Christmas for those who have nothing to give but want to give something. When that part is done, all donations left over will be distributed to several area agencies to help fill their coffers with goods and clothing.

So, if it seems as if I’ve been neglect of my writing, there is, indeed, a good reason for that. I’ve been a busy gal collecting ideas and experiences to translate into more stories and poems to share with you. That will be continuing until next week because I’m already signed up for a spectacular series of fortunate events next week as well.

May your holy days, however you celebrate or don’t, be filled with the love and peace I feel sharing with you these activities. May strength to do what you can to make a difference in your community be given when you feel you may not have it. May your needs be ever met with enough. May you know that you are loved unconditionally. Peace, love, and light, Mare Martell.

Protest March

Today I will join in solidarity against police brutality suffered by my fellow human beings. It would seem some police have forgotten they, too, are human.

image

image

As a Unitarian Universalist it is my honor to be a pilgrim for justice and a fool for love. #blacklivesmatter #iamuu #lovethyneighbor

Thinkful Gratitude

When I was younger, I never felt as if I had enough of anything. I felt greedy for attention, lusted after riches, begged, borrowed, and yes even stole to acquire more. I felt that if I could surround myself with things I saw others be so happy with, I would finally be happy. That carried on into my first marriage where I used things as substitutions for the love that was absent from my life.

As I grew in age, I began to understand that no amount of material goods would give me what I was looking for in my heart. That new pair of shoes, new car, new pan, new…anything would never fill that void. Even though I still hadn’t discovered what exactly that void was, I knew my needs weren’t being met by my buying things. I moved away from that behavior.

I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t enjoy a good shopping trip, but I’d rather focus on the company I keep instead of the goods I may get. I try to shop only when I need something like food or a pair of pants, for example because I’m less likely to just randomly spend money I don’t have. But, overall, I don’t go shopping with the sole intention of purchasing something. It has to be pretty spectacular (like my goldfish shirt or my hugger shirt) to necessitate me buying something.

Original Art by Maximus Decimus Meridius (aka Maxine the Magnificent) Watercolor and ink 5"X7"

Original Art by Maximus Decimus Meridius (aka Maxine the Magnificent)
Watercolor and ink 5″X7″

My evolution made me realize that my emotional needs weren’t being met, so of course I attached myself to a man who was emotionally unavailable because he matched me at that point. Matched me enough for me to realize that the absence of emotional connection was what I was missing. I started to reach out emotionally to those I trusted to test the waters of truth in myself. I found rejection from him but I found acceptance from a few others which kindled a small flame in my heart.

I broke from that shell in much the same way as I did the other, I evaluated, realized, understood, and moved on to the next stage. I’d realize material goods are nice, but they are not where love is found. I realized that connection is as important to the growth and understanding of myself and others but it wasn’t enough. But what was I missing?

By the time I reached my third “stop” searching for love, I was broken. I had nothing of material value. My mask of makeup had been stripped away. My body had been violated. My spirit was barely breathing. I had but a basic foundation of self. A rudimentary understanding that there was something far more than what I had. I longed for whatever it was. I was disconnected from my body, mind, spirit, and self. I was lost and I knew it.

The next five years allowed me to find what I’d been missing. Out of all the crazy weirdness, I found myself. I’d hidden under the covers of degradation, humiliation, anger, hurt, fears, shame, guilt, and most of all, self-loathing. Through the unconditional love from my friends who saw me, nurtured me, loved me, cleansed me of my clutter, helped lift me up from cowering into standing, I learned to be me.

I felt like a toddler. I took uncertain steps and with coaxing, love, and laughter, I stepped into the sun of Arizona, born of the Phoenix, almost literally. The Painted Desert showed me colors that I knew existed but had never seen before as Stephanie and I passed through the landscape. The smell of Christmas that Flagstaff has all year round filled me with a sense of giving, but Shanna gave me the gift of acceptance of myself. She showed me love every step of the way. Carrie sealed me with a sense of naked belonging. I didn’t have to wear a mask of any kind around her. She adored me. I adored her. We sang the songs of unity, all of us. I learned to rise from the ashes in Arizona.

My testing grounds are my battle grounds I stand on now. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone. I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself. I do anyway, but I don’t have to. I can say no without explanation. I can say yes without reason. I can protect. I can serve. I can pull pranks. I can be everyone I’m supposed to be but on my terms. I’ve had to strip away everything in the ashes of my old life to rise again, but I am quite happy being who I am now.

When I look around at the world through these child-like eyes of mine, I see such beauty that sometimes I weep with joy. I see the smile of a person towards one of their own and the light of gratitude flashes brightly. That’s the light of love. Gratitude. Where there is love, there is gratitude for every little gift given, every glance, every ribbing and inside joke. There is thankfulness in each breath when a loved one is ailing. There is thinkfulness.

There is relief then peace when gratitude is found and met in one’s life. Every day that I’m mindful, I can be thinkful (misspelled on purpose as a hybrid of thankful and thinking): I am grateful for the quiet music in the background. I am thinkful for my visit. I am thinkful for my computer to write this. I am full of gratitude that I’m loved. I am just thinkful that my needs are all met, my body is rested, warm, and full.

Each moment I’m grateful is one that allows me to notice things differently than others because I’m tuned to the gratefulness in my life. It’s similar to breathing in love, breathing out gratitude. In a way it’s like looking for the silver lining in everything, whether perceived as good or bad, like my Uncle taught me so many years ago. Gratitude is the silver lining.