Not as it appears

Peace on Earth Love Thy Neighbor

Peace on Earth
Love Thy Neighbor

You are merely a distraction

meant as a detraction

from the deep dissatisfaction

of a dying way of life.

The marionette strings you’re dancing

are pulled by those amassing

obscene amounts of financing

with your divisive strife

You are the sleight of hand

given up as sacrificial lamb

with back-room deals grandstand

back-stabbed by Judas’ knife

I am not to judge your place

or spit into your unwitting face

as you spout you’re in god’s holy grace

while playing at Lot’s wife

I hope that what you’re saved from

in total and in sum

bring you to a better place to rest your bum

with a small bit of advice

Matthew 22:36-40,

and although it may feel a tad bit warty,

is what Jesus said while commandment sortie,

Commanded not once, but twice.

Acroamatic

They leave offerings at her altar, never seeing past her face

They vie shamefully for her affections; peacocking their disgrace

Like a Mother Mary statue she abides their adoration

They, the faithful worshipers, fall scantily in prostration

She rarely extends her fruitful bliss, suffering their confusion,

When they realize her trinity is akin to holy communion

I can’t but I can

I can’t tell you where to find your peace of mind

or to hear the voice of the Universe coursing with power

or to notice the song of the world’s orchestra as it plays

or even to taste the brisk of sharpened words.

I can’t show you the color of your balanced spirit

or tell you the tale of your sacred birth

or cherish the moment of truth you witnessed

or embrace the love you so rightfully deserve

I can’t marry you to your passion for life

or point you in the direction most profound

or take away anything you’ve learned

or dictate your growth rate in any form

Loving you Always

Loving you Always

What I can do is:

hug you

reassure you

encourage you

believe in you

support you

hear you

see you

love you

Serenade of the trees

Wedgewood Park Afternoon

Wedgewood Park Afternoon

Through all my youth I didn’t learn the language of the trees

I couldn’t hear the words to the poetic songs they would sing for me

When I became still enough to listen to the music of the earth

I learned of transformation, regeneration, and rebirth.

What I didn’t know, while true to my childish indiscretions,

were the many truths I’d learned from them, the many rough hewn lessons.

My roots ran deeply through rocky soil, building bridges of emotional gaps

My branches raised up high with deep green leaves fed by spirit’s sap

I was taught the ancient tongues of the oak, elm, maple, birch,

embraced in laughing drumming beats the circumference of my worth

I am a child of the forests, although youth I can no longer claim

I will honor my tree kin’s body; their face; until the earth embraces me again.

Peaceful Depths

Be at PEACE with your DEPTHS Acrylic on Board (Guess-timated) 8"X22"

Be at PEACE with your DEPTHS
Acrylic on Board
(Guess-timated) 8″X22″ FOR SALE!

I was asked to explain “Be at peace with your depths.” My interpretation of it may differ from how you take it, but I explained it as this:
“Your depths are your darkest parts. They’re there under all the fluff and brightness. If you’re at peace with them, it doesn’t matter if they bubble to the surface because you can flow through them.”
I received an enthusiastic response followed by: “They are abubbling and I be a troublin over them. I do understand that I must contend with the dark and negitive BUT me no like it one bit.”
“Nobody LIKES negative thoughts, but if you deny them, then you deny a part of who you are. It’s okay to have them. It’s okay to feel them. It’s not okay to dwell there. I’ve suffered from PTSD. I understand the anger, the frustrations, the mood swings. To maintain what I have right now, I use a lot of meditation, breathing, grounding, shielding, and visual aids to relieve the symptoms.”
Feel free to share your interpretations of this in the comments. Be Love

Statistically Speaking; Racism

I posted a powerful picture that demonstrates what it feels like to the photographer to have #BlackLivesMatter criticized and taken over by #alllivesmatter. This is what happened:

Juan Paul was the poster that put this up and where I found it.

Juan Paul was the poster that put this up and where I found it.

  • Random Person Are you serious? All lives DO matter.
    My REPLY:
    There is no question of that, Sir. But by saying ALL instead of BLACK, it’s saying they have no right to speak up. It’s a way of silencing the voices who are speaking against racism, brutality, violence, and murders. Do those things happen to Caucasians? Yes, of course they do. But they are not, usually, perpetrated by people in authority. As a rule, the rate of incarceration and unreasonable arrest statistics of melanin enhanced individuals is disproportionate compared to ANY OTHER civilized country in the world. #Blacklivesmatter is more about quality of life than saying no other lives matter or ALL lives matter. It’s another way to keep racism going, keep us divided instead of united, and a, pardon the pun, whitewashing the degradation of our fellow human beings. Yes. All lives do matter but we’re not focusing on that right now. We’re trying to support our fellow humans from the obvious racial disparities in our country.
  • Random Person 2 words… Bull Sheet. All lives matter. Nobody is born “equal”. But if you’re not, you fight be equal. Any man, black, white, red or yellow is welcome to take a ride in a police car after breaking the law. Cherry picking data doesn’t make you right Mare.
  • “you fight be equal” Then clearly you understand the need.
    The United States Declaration of Independence says we’re all created equal as well as the United States Constitution. Reading statistic after statistic after statistic that states clearly this is inaccurate means this is not an opinion, this is fact. It is not cherry picking when it is evident that we are NOT, in fact, created equal as we’re told.
  • Random Person: If black people are disproportionately represented in jails, don’t you think government policies might have more to do with it? In Detroit (completely Democrat) white people left because jobs left and crime was always getting worse. Social programs probably have more to do with “disproportionate” numbers…and the fact that black people are killing other black people in far greater numbers than any sub section of society. And that’s NOT just Detroit. Chicago. New Orleans. All have high murder numbers; mostly black on black crimes. All are Democrat controlled bastions of liberalism.
    RANDOM PERSON II:

    I think this is a very powerful image. Thank you for sharing.

  • RANDOM PERSON III:
    I disagree with you on this one Mare. All lives matter has nothing to do with silencing black lives matter, its pointing out that it isnt just blacks who get harassed, assaulted, and killed by the police. If i ran around shouting white lives matter, id be a racist, regardless of my opinion on anything. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one. smile emoticon
  • MY RESPONSE:

Breaking Down Mass Incarceration Statistics:

Educate yourself about the actual statistics

If this seems fair to you, we can’t be friends

The Federal Bureau of Prisons claims more white inmates than black:

Read about that here

But, the States, the Census Bureau and the Department of Justice all contradict those statistics with roughly the same rate of growth per their reports as opposed to that of the FBP.

As the two links above, this one is from The Department of Justice and is a PDF: This doesn’t match the Prison Report either

Believe what you want to, but unless you can bring me proof via public records, studies, or other recognized sources based on scientific fact and not ignorant opinions, I will love you from a distance with respect for you and will continue to state factually in support of #Blacklivesmatter

P.S. Random Person I is employed as a police officer.

These Are My People: ORUUC

Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church, Oak Ridge, Tennessee

Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church, Oak Ridge, Tennessee

I’m not a religious person. I don’t classify or call myself anything in particular except maybe leaning towards spiritual. It’s not because I don’t believe in “something” but because I see validity is so much. A few years ago, I felt a strong push as I heard a loud voice tell me to go to the ORUUC. Over the course of two years I found the family I’d been promised by the winds. They didn’t come in the shapes, sizes, or ages I expected, but there is not a doubt in my heart or soul they are my blood kin.

From the youngest children, such as Rayn, to the oldest of children such as Miss Marge, I was blessed with knowing, learning, and understanding some of the most beautiful people I could have asked for. Outside of the confines of the church there were some people whom could meet my level of tomfoolery, but never in my adult life have I found the encouragement to be everything I was meant to be as I did there.

But how can I say that an entire church is my family? A church? It hardly seems possible. What I learned from them, will follow me everywhere I go because I value the life-lessons I was given.

Be Passionate

When I first started going to the Unitarian Universalist Church, I was wisely advised to take my time in selecting what I wanted to do because everything has passionate players. They weren’t kidding. I watched the different volunteer positions to see which I felt I could be enthusiastically involved with. I discovered I loved to greet people, loved to protect, and loved to serve. I ended up joining the safety team, co-leading the hosts and greeters, as well as serving as fifth Sunday usher. I even did coffee a couple times. Find what you’re passionate about and without excuse or what-if’s, jump in and do it.

Learn Names

One of my favorite things to do on a Sunday morning was to be greeter. I have a knack for remembering the names with faces I see often. I could greet nearly everyone in our medium sized congregation by name as they approached the door. That I could do that, hug them, welcome them, demonstrated I truly was glad to see them. Learning people’s name that you see every day no matter who they are is key to discovering some of the coolest people you might never had opportunity of doing so if not for that small effort. When you remember people’s names, they know that someone in the world knows they exist. I believe that’s crucial to mental health.

Talk is cheap, Action is richer

Many times I’d listen to people in the neighborhood where I lived talking about how unhappy they were with where they lived (I was one of them for a while), their circumstances, their addictions, their kids, the etc. What I noticed was that none of them were doing anything to change any of that. They just noted it sucked but continued the same behaviors. I learned that it’s okay to complain because, really, that’s just an acknowledgment that an issue exists.

Once you’ve realized there is a problem, making a difference is the only way that problem will go away. You can kick sand over it, behave like an ostrich, or pretend it doesn’t exist, but once you know it’s there, it’s the Universe’s way of nudging you to make it better. Terry Goodkind wrote in his Sword of Truth series (loosely quoted), “You already know what the problem is, think of the solution.”

I saw solutions pouring out of the people at ORUUC far more than I saw problems. It was the most collaborative group of people I’ve ever worked with. Even when hackles got ruffled, which happens in any large group, everyone worked to make sure that the final solution was a balance. Do what you need to do to bring the positive changes into the world because happiness is worth it.

Fool for love

Pastor Jake Morrill’s closing words for the services he gives are ones I took to heart. He says, “Be pilgrims for justice and fools for love!” What profoundly simple words with such an enormous responsibility behind them. If he chose a different closing, I’d walk away rather bummed because I truly took on the challenge when he would use it.

I believe we should all fall madly in love with the world every day. No excuses, just open your eyes and fall. Even the people or things that irk your sensibilities the most are worthy of love. It’s not for you to choose who is okay or what is okay to love, just do it.

I’m not in any way implying that you can’t have preferences, nor that you should eliminate safety measures for the sake of love. I’m saying that when you look at the world as if it were your intimate lover and you its muse, you’ll find a different kind of kismet with the divinity that is everything; The atom of begin times, the eve of creation.

To clarify, I call everything the Universe, because as a rule, we can all agree there is one. If I called the Universe God, then that specific version that you know/doubt/reject/hate/don’t believe in, would negate this idea. BUT! If I call it the Universe, we can meet at whatever version of that ultimate we accept.

Using this idea, be the fool for love because love has a transformational magic that can be witnessed where two hearts meet in unison. Thus, if you’re falling madly in love with the world every breath you take, does it not then make sense that love will rule your world? And further that love will light your path to happiness because love doesn’t hurt? Indeed. As I was taught by those who love me there, be that fool for love.

A village

A short while before I moved away, I received an email that reminded the Sunday volunteers of the roles they promised to step in to fill. A reply to that email was astounded at the amount of people that took responsibility to make the service appear to be without effort. It made me giggle a bit because I was actively involved in the volunteer activities. I knew how many people it took because of that.

Sidenote: My husband would get really frustrated with me because I’d try to do way more than my body could handle. He’d have to verbally remind me, “Mare, you’re not Atlas. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

It’s the same when facing life’s many challenges (like moving out of state with a weeks notice). You’re not Atlas. Just like sharing your great experiences with your friends, sharing burdens makes them easier to bear as well. Nothing limits you to only putting on your good face. Being a human with All The Bumpy Bits is by far more deeply satisfying overall in my experience. When you find people willing to be human with you, that’s a rare and beautiful gift. Shine for them even from your darkest places. It’s worth it.

There are so many lessons I’ve learned from the beautiful people I am honored enough to call my friends at ORUUC that I couldn’t possibly cover it in one writing. I hope you will bear with me as I process this tremendous life shift. Together we can be incredible humans together on this wild journey called life.

Where am I?

The weeping Southern skies can’t promise to choke me humidly.

The rising stars refrain from performing to crickets and frogs.

Abandoned is the sinkhole of basal intent to protect!

I lay unfamiliar in a bunk bed I don’t own; reeling

I am packed tight in the blankets like my luggage.

The air (thank you Kay) is different here; archived scents

I watch walls blooming colors warm with sunset, not Volunteers

My breath keeps coming but I’m still holding it,

The weeping angels of Southern skies wave; I love them

I blow a “kiss my ass” back at those who stole illicitly from me

But that’s barely a toot of air forgotten after a pizza bird

The process will digest as slowly as Mayfield milk gravy.

“Miss Marge’s Cat”

When I took Miss Marge Swenson on our date, we had a conversation. I tried to pawn my last kitten off on her. She said, “At this stage in my life it wouldn’t be fair to bring a cat into my home. I sure do miss having a cat.” She’s 93 and that was a valid, although sad, argument, it was sound of logic.

We talked a bit more and I found out her favorite color is purple. It used to be blue, but for some reason, she explained, it’d changed to purple. I immediately decided to paint her a cat.

When she saw the painting for the first time, she immediately named the purple cat, “Mr. B.” because that was the name of her friend. It absolutely delighted me to see her aglow with joy. I don’t think it gets any better.

In the small painting in the background, I filled that with four other paintings before I stopped myself and asked how I feel when I see Miss Marge. I see her as a breath of fresh air as if I were standing on a mountain on a clear sunny day in the early spring with maybe a suspicion of rain hanging in the air but not enough to feel any kind of muggy. As soon as I thought that, I saw it and painted it.

I liked the squishy flowers because I wanted them to represent the four Sunday’s in a month (sometimes five) when I get to see my Always Beautiful friend, Marge Swenson.

This took me to this, the 5th try, before I got it right in my head.

This took me to this, the 5th try, before I got it right in my head.

The contrasts were some of my favorites. Don't hate on my leaves.

The contrasts were some of my favorites. Don’t hate on my leaves.

I love warms and cools together. It feels rich and lively to me.

I love warms and cools together. It feels rich and lively to me.

Miss Marge will always have comfortable slippers to wear on this stage in life.

Miss Marge will always have comfortable slippers to wear on this stage in life.

Miss Marge's Cat Mare Martell Acrylic on Board 16X20

Miss Marge’s Cat
Mare Martell
Acrylic on Board
16X20

17,167.4 days

That’s a lot of days to walk around the sun. 47 years for the math challenged (Dude, really, I used Google instead of using a damn calculator!) As I read through the Facebook reminders about my trip, I see many kind words and good wishes. I really love that. It reminds me that I made it around again trying to outshine the stars.

What I’ve come to love the most is when I get feedback from the people I frequently deal with that shows me how I am perceived by others. I know it sounds flippant to say it doesn’t matter, it does but it doesn’t. However, it does give me a valid self check about what I’m doing that not only feeds my spirit but helps others along the way. I truly feel blessed.

Inspiring

When I think of my personal definition of inspiring, I think of the people who teach me more things about the kind of person I want to keep working towards becoming. I wrote several times yesterday that I was inspired by the greatness of my Grandfather, aka Bapa, either directly or indirectly through his children, my aunts and uncles. When I apply the word to myself, I’m not really sure how that works. I do things to make the world a better place because I was taught that. I stand up and defend those who can’t because I was taught that. I love with all I have because I was taught that. Nearly all of that came from the Coleman side of the family. The rest I had to learn on my own.

To think of inspiring others from my life, I think of all the horrors I’ve seen. I think of all the struggles I’ve met and overcome. I ponder the battles I’ve had to fight in order to make it as far as I’ve come and I can see where that would shine the light for others too. I’m blessed to still be here. I’m blessed to know you too.

Laughter

If there is one thing without a doubt that could be said about me is that I love to laugh. I love to laugh so much that I commonly laugh at my own jokes or the absurdities that I come into with each new adventure. I love puns. I think farts are amusing. I love spoonerisms, knock knock jokes, high and low brow humor. George Carlin was one of my very favorites because he was a thinking man (Nothing sexier in my book). I love Ellen DeGeneres because she’s brave and incredibly witty. Robin Williams was a man I identified with so deeply, I seriously, all jokes aside, mourned for weeks. I knew when his light went out.

I’d rather be the butt of a joke than to let an opportunity slip by that held the potential to make my sides ache, my eyes leak, and snorts to come flying out of my nose. I love to tell funny stories because when I can make people laugh, there is nothing more satisfying than knowing I touched them in such a primitive way because I know for a fact we all laugh in the same language.

Being You

This one rather tugs at me a bit. I asked several people what exactly this means. I hear, “Mare, just keep being you.” “I love that you’re so you.” “You keep doing what you’re doing.” And there I am screaming at them with a blank look on my face, “Who the fuck else would I be other than maybe a wealthier version of me. I could handle that.” I tried for years to be someone else. I WANTED to be anyone else but me. One day, I woke up and said, “I’m going to chuck it in the fuck it bucket.”

I say what I want as politely as is necessary, sometimes to the point of being brutally honest, but I won’t lie to you. I try love and compassion first because those work best in nearly every situation. But, I also will not allow anyone to walk on me. Four of my favorite quotes are, “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission.” Eleanor Roosevelt; “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Gandhi; “Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” Oscar Wilde; and “Be pilgrims for justice and fools for love.” Rev. Jake Morrill’s Sunday service closing.

Hugs

Hugs. Hugs! Hugs? Human contact is so crucial to our survival that babies who are not touched, hugged, or cuddled enough are commonly considered infants with a failure to thrive. It’s the cruelest form of neglect I can think of when it’s one of the easiest things to give. A simple hug to reassure another human or creature that they are not alone in this world. I warm, compassionate, loving moment that gives them a place of safe haven if only for the time of the hug. It’s a transcendent feeling for me when I am allowed access into someone’s personal bubble to give them love. It makes my eyes well up with tears to think of the beauty I find when I’m granted that permission. I love hugs. We should hug more often.

Light

I’m told that I bring light. When I was born my mother knew something I didn’t. My birth name is sealed away but I will confess to you that name out of reasonable disclosure. My name was Helen Elaine. I was named for two very important people in my mother’s life that brought her light. Both names have the same meaning of Light. I kid you not.

I changed my name legally in 1996, after my Gram passed away, to Marilyn. Nobody ever calls me that. I’ve always been called Mare since I disclosed my desire. My birth name always felt like someone else’s shoes. It didn’t fit me. It was an unruly unfashionable clunker of a name that hid far more darkness than a name should. I didn’t change it out of spite. I changed it out of self-preservation.

With the advent of Mare Martell (Martell is my birth name and although I abhor the man who handed it down, he will not win. I will honor COLEMAN under the banner), I was given rare opportunity to reinvent myself. Only, it’s not rare. Anyone can choose to bring the light. Anyone can shine but most choose not to. They let people like me do it and I’m okay with that. I’ll bring my light from my darkness. Mare, yes I’m speaking third person, can be anyone I need her to be. THAT is my light. She’s a brilliant chameleon and I love her dearly.

And that is my summation of my 17, 167.4 days around the sun. Thank you for making it through. Love, Light, Blessings of Peace,

Mare Martell