I Follow My Eyes, She Said

Originally posted on Purple Profundity:

Dirty Keys
Rosemary
Thyme
A Round Red Pot
Cobalt Blue glimpsing out from behind Ruffled Curtain
I follow my eyes, she said
Soft yellow lamp light, from an old right bulb
Pooling on Deep Orange Red and Almond Blossom
Fabric covered seat
Achievements
Showcased
In the corner
I follow my eyes, she said
Discarded Cane
Three styles of shoes
Steady now
Dried Red leaf long straight stem
Propped and top tipped over
At right angle to worn baseboard
Where it fell

–elisabeth connelley

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Walktober (5)

A lot of walking and ‘walking’ has occurred since my last post. Funny how in each moment things can be so busy and full of things that we find pleasant, abhorrent and all of the places in between and beyond, that a different moment seems beyond capabilities to even happen, let alone to be noticed. For me a present moment IS all and everything that I can conceive during a speck and a space of time. I can choose to ignore this or to ignore that as a delusion, as an escape, as a coping mechanism. I can choose to narrow my conceiving to pay attention to minute details of a thing in sheer wonder of it. Whoops! I got off into a ponder! (psst over HERE Elisa, this way!)

Soon after my last post I recalled a hankering to experience a corn maze. So, I called a place where I have taken photographs and they, indeed were doing them, and a hay ride. Amazement and Gratitudes poured forth that the cost was only $5!! This covered TWO mazes and a hay ride. My daughter and her fiance wanted to go with me!! I no longer had to pay for daughter!! My present had not conceived this before and I wondered if this is where that tendency of gramma-type persons arises from. Obligation to pay for daughter has to go somewhere and oozes out onto uhm others!

We got to the place before sunset. It felt good! Right by the river that also runs through the tree place. Mist and cooler breezes snaked fingers across the wooded lot and fields to play the tickle game with the senses! Son was not afraid of the maze and did not get lost! A miracle right there! The mazes were huge and good exercise and conversation. The second maze wove through what felt like marshy land with associated birds and creatures singing and chirruping an evening chorus. I was able to have numerous Tree Place type moments even while other persons laughed and hollered their ways through the mazes around me. As my insides lifted up and flew and I hit ground at once, I heard the sound of geese!! I turned to see them and saw wondrous neon cotton candy manes across the western treetops! My five dollars was very well spent! We also went on a hayride. The farm owner gave us agriculture lessons about corn, and soy, and even cotton. I liked knowing the answers and getting into an intelligent conversation–bless my Grandpa, but had to check myself remembering these other people and kids really didn’t want to hear a lot of this stuff in the dark. :D Some of them did listen though and did ask more questions, which to me, was nice. I learned something about corn that I didn’t know before too. No images as I didn’t expect in the very late evening to be able to see to take them.

Walktober (4)

I am writing this morning, early. No, not early, 7:30 but it is dark and cloudy with wet from rain on the pavement, and it feels cave dark early. I have had one swallow of tea. The post then, might make more or less sense. That is the way it is.

This image has a WHOOOOOOOOOOLE lot more light than there is right now, but sort of resembles my hair’s current state. The bushy part and the bent parts, not yet the grey.

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The day before yesterday I went to a talk at the Thomas Taber Museum.

“…Sieminski will relate the fascinating lives of Williamsport native Myrtle Miller Anderson and her photographer husband John Alvin Anderson. For forty years, the Andersons lived on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. A fascinating photographic archives developed which included portraits of Native Americans and life on the reservation, some photographs of which are now housed in the collections of the Library of Congress….”
Thomas Taber Museum Website

I both enjoyed it, for the opportunity to think and to engage and was incensed by parts of it. The incensed parts had not much at all to do with the presenter herself and more to do with the disrespect perpetuated as truth and fact unknowingly. I tend to Wrangle with that incensed part in relation to the topic and with myself that I have yet to find balance or the most right thing to do. I used the experience to look at how elders share history. I used the experience to notice how those that are called historians and those that call themselves historians, might not be. I continue to recall one elder laughing at me in my on the floor at feet search for the truest truth. Maybe I am also incensed with myself for not having worked out how to find or how to let go of a truest truth?

Maybe no matter my wishes sometimes things are just blurry.

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Sometimes we don’t know if they are poison or a cure and answer to the…cold.

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Yesterday, I found out that there might be a way to get neurology and psychiatric care for the (adult)kiddos. It’s two hours away, however if it is good and appropriate care, perhaps God will make a way. I went to pick up one of them for Fall Break from college. I got news that was distressing, though not entirely unexpected–I detached from it a bit and got a small bit of praise from the disability services coordinator. He finally stated clearly that he cannot really recall having a student as unable to do such things before and that it had been difficult for him not to see it as lack of caring. He stated that he knows differently now, but doesn’t know what to do to help him, as he can’t attend or focus long enough to find out. He then took a breath and asked my permission to be a little personal. The inner attack me committee steeled itself to rip me to pieces. And, he stated that he felt that I felt that everyone on the outside felt that my son and daughter(who attended the same college) were the way they were because I am a bad parent. That school people viewed their actions as bad behaviors that with the right will could be corrected. And that I had failed. He then stated that in case no one had told me–No other parent would drive once a week to college to attempt to help a disabled student navigate these issues so that they could express the amazing people that they are. He said that he found it amazing how I manage to keep my composure and to calmly state and restate matters if/when others didn’t understand. He said that if no one else tells me, he thinks I am a good Mom. And, that I might need to try to find a way in all that doesn’t look like it is going well, to try to remind myself of that fact. I didn’t know that I appeared as if I had not lost my composure. Yes, that is what I focused upon, the rest was out of my pay grade to process as I sat in the chair.

More about falling short and enoughness, even within truly falling short. That is a very difficult concept for me to master–anything less than mastery isn’t enough for me. Hm.

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I also took out the Patchouli, moved the sickly looking Thyme inside–in case what I have seen is dormancy, and took care of a few other outdoor chores. I returned a huge stack of library items. The librarians’ response: “Oh myyyyy, how do you manage all of that it’s only been a few weeks. You must eat and grow on information!”

PSST! Unsure of how Robin wishes the links to the Walktober Project so,

Walktober (3)

This is an image of the amazing greeting view that met me at the Gate by the Tree of Many Faces. It is still there. It is still beautiful. I checked. The image does not portray the scene. Sometimes images don’t.

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Which ones do we edit because they are not enough? Which ones do we edit because there is a shame that a thing will be seen as bad? I believe in a concept of things being bad and not good enough. I believe that the world is becoming a place where everyone is lovely, and that we all have to lie to ourselves to be such. Every effort is enough. Every action gets a reward.

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But, does it get the right one? A sense of pleasure and satisfaction with the self, from the self and the spirit? If I judge a passion as a way to judge what is right, what about the person that takes up a hobby that is hard and different, because their joy is simply to try a new thing? I can have shame now at not being enough to notice that what works for me CAN mean that something else is false and wrong, or for taking too long to see another way. I am not at all ready to give up the fact that even the bench warmer gets an award. I wonder if competition and worthiness is not the same as a shame. Yes, Kathy I am pondering the shame post.

I loved the post. I didn’t love that I cried. I loved that I cried. So now, I ponder. I wonder if I am attempting to step back, to detach as some say. I used to have vast difficulties feeling or aiming to feel detached. I would shout, how does detached feel? You want me to be a sociopath? Oh! You want me to disassociate, I’m good at that, however the world says that is bad. So I am going to ponder and attach and detach and reattach someplace else until I am satisfied, and hopefully that won’t mean that I beat the tar out of myself.

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I wanted to share all of the wonderful books that I got through Inter-library Loan. I have so many new amazing things to which I wish to attend fully, that I can’t choose. I am also having trouble with focus, fear and worry do that to me. I wonder if it is ok just to admire the heft of each one, the shape, and the feel of the pages. The dent of the text. It is for me.

I walked last night on a manageable loop through a park, around behind the Thomas Taber Museum, onto the Rail Place, through Park Home and back. I think that makes a Tree Place length and there are grasses and many trees and plants, both native and landscaped. It was a nice thing to do after dinner and made it simpler to overcome being stuck and unable to move. I enjoyed it very much, both the freedom from being stuck and the ground so close to home.

PSST! Unsure of how Robin wishes the links to the Walktober Project so,

Walktober (2)

I had all sorts of creative expressions and ideas this morning. I felt productive all day. Until, I spent the last two hours being told that neurology won’t treat my daughter anymore and to go to psychiatry, who won’t treat her due to the nuerology. Psychotic? Jail? No worries NO ONE will treat her yay NOT. TWO HOURS hopeless and despair, people getting huge salaries to not treat anyone. All of this was before I added in the type of insurance we have and the carveout to stoneaged incompetents even if we could be seen.

What does this mean? It means I am resentful that another of my days is consumed with crap. It means that it comes first even after the beautiful day and productive morning. So, let me see. My inner honest/snark, as snark it is often called when a person isn’t pretty but honest instead, thinks that another part of Walktober is not to share only coping skills, only honest moments of joy, but the entire package. To share what is real every day as I walk through my day.

I told me to go on and to cook supper while I cannot calm the inner shaking quivering tempest. I did. I made the buttermilk fried chicken and then, I thought it best to take a few more moments, thaw some fish and do those too ahead for another day. The dishes are done thrice and the rice is ready.

Here. have a picture from yesterday’s real walk (yes we are still stuck on the word ‘real’) at the Tree Place yesterday after my first post.

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It is just a weed, but gosh it is perfect and it is beautiful and it takes my breath away to see it and to wonder about all its parts and its order in the universe and how each part that is beauty to me is mere service to it and to the things in the habitat near to it.

I walked through my morning readings, I got my meds and breathing treatment in and a first cup of tea. I smudged and used my candle. The morning went smoothly. The inner upset were waiting for the bad bits or to be startled into fight or flight mode. They were able to attend the readings. I think that I will make a bookmark that has a note to myself. Your treatments make you shake like using a jackhammer you are not anxious there is nothing to fix. I had a shower. I did my lower back and shoulder exercises and did some for my legs. I went to the tree place and was able to happily complete a very tiny bit of energy work. I have had a resentment about not doing that the way I like too. I keep telling me that I can’t do it when I am so angry and afraid. (this is partly a lie) I keep telling me to shut up and keep it simple breathe and admire…which will lead to grounding. I was able to get there for a short while, before the fix it police decided I was calm enough to tackle phone calls to psychiatry places. HA!

Here have another image, I need one anyway!

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I didn’t eat a bag of snacks today. I initiated and followed through to the best of my known ability on actions that I view as horrid. The house is calm and I am eating my own dinner. I have a window to read some of the excellent inter-library loan materials that came for me yesterday. I am going to revert to another thing that I used to have to use to help myself. Dear E, you have done everything that you could today to be healthy, to take care of the body and the mind and the spirit. You have taken one thing at a time. It is now time to stop for the day. All offices and businesses are closed and thus, your shift is over. Think of something balanced and healthy that you enjoy and go do that for at least 20 minutes. Love The GC

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Look at all of those tiny things that make up a whole (thing, day, fill in the blank)

PSST! Unsure of how Robin wishes the links to the Walktober Project so,

Walktober (1)

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I read Robin’s post entitled Walktober dates on her blog Breezes At Dawn.

I was and am still feeling disturbed and out of sorts emotionally, mentally, and physically from one of the children’s current bouts with mental and neurological differences. I thought and felt angst at missing walks and being able to have calm and peace and to attend to the little things that I love so much. I thought that I can do a Walktober, and then proceeded to make to much to large to handle with present situations. I ripped me to bits about how my walk around the back yard is NOT a walk. YES IT IS!!! #@#*^@$! I decided to take my idea of what is good enough to consider a walk and create what is more real. I made it really simple. If my feet move, it is a walk. If I can only walk 10 feet outside and sit down and notice for as long as I can, it’s a walk. My mind is still shouting, “NO, It is NOT!”

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That mind is contributing to my feeling of lack of enjoyment in the life I have been dealt and is creating misery at the loss of the things that I love, rather than allowing my creative enthusiastic parts to do their thing and be really and truly glad for everything that is a ‘can do’.

The snarky part questioned, “Who will want to see images of the same small spot?”
The realistic part answered, “We write this blog only for us and not so many people view it and we don’t so much care, so stop it and just let us have a good time and a wee bit of that ‘challenge’ that Robin tends to do, so that she might smirk at the humor that I might need to do it to get me through a day.”

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Dear Robin, I do not really think that you will smirk, though it is very very funny that I wonder if a small and attainable string of goals that are easy to achieve might be helpful! :P Love, E.

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I went right out intending to do the walk that the snarky bit called a walk, however I had to get equipment for my breathing machine instead. I did have to walk back through the property. It is an old farm property, that now has businesses in all of the buildings. I actually know the family that owned and grew up on the farm. The following images are what I saw. I have also walked around Wegman’s Parking lot (it’s huge) 4 times on two other days, with no pictures taken and I spent an afternoon trekking across a college campus trying to help my other child navigate some snags. I have also noticed myself pacing the house and walking up and down the stairs while I am busy or waiting, or fretting. If my point is activity, then activity is also increased. I am pleased to report that a feeling of restlessness when I have been still is starting to occur. I am also annoyed by it, it’s an ungrounded anxious feeling. I am talking to that ickier feeling and telling it that a walk and then a moment of grounding is nice. Maybe a fix it or not. I shall have to wait and see.

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