Blogger Under Construction

I am taking a break from blog posting.  Please visit the blog in 2013. 

Those of you who are readers,  realize that I am "going through" a tunnel;  I want to concentrate on getting to the light on the otherside.  Thank you for letting me share;  understand that now I need to stop and make sense for me.  Here is my disclaimer:  There are no veiled messages; no direction of a message to another meaning; and no pointing to anyone.  These blogs were composed for me as I attempted to sort hopes, ideas all with the intention of achieving joy.  I am not there yet, but I intend to be.  Sadness is easy for me; joy will take more work.  

Not to quote Arnold (but I guess I am : ):  "I'll be back."  I pray that I return with more dignity and integrity than Mr. Schwarzenegger.

Thank you Bay City!

Thank you to the staff and patrons of the Bay County Library System for inviting me to present at Friday’s “Booked for Lunch” event held at the beautiful Alice & Jack Wirt Public Library.  What a wonderful afternoon I had laughing and sharing with the attentive and interesting audience.  There are a lot of great folks in Bay City and I had the pleasure of meeting quite a few of you on Friday.

"You Will Go Far"

Yesterday I took a trip to the west side of Michigan to climb the dunes in Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.  (This is also the second time that I used my lifetime Senior National Park Pass – an awesome value at $10.00.) The major benefit to climbing the dunes in October is the cool weather and the absence of the million other visitors that come to Sleeping Bear Dunes each year.  (Hikers have increased in numbers since the National Geographic book, categorized this park under “The 10 Best of Everything National Parks”). 

Upon reaching the summit, I could not help but say:  Thank you Teddy Roosevelt (our conservation president).   His vision and love of the land has made an impact on our country that I do appreciate.  Regardless of how one evaluates his methods:  “Speak softly and carry a big stick". He did something while in office that directly impacts the quality of my life over a hundred years later.  I am sure without his foresight (or ego); the view before me from the top of the dune, a seemingly endless shoreline framed in blue water and the cascading colors of a Michigan Fall, would be a condo resort. 

After the day of hiking,  I watched the vice-president debates and could not help but wonder if any of what Biden or Ryan were saying would mark history in a positive light.  I did watch to the end (even though Joe Biden’s laughing and smirking was riling me.  No communicator should be so rude).  Following the debate, I had to turn the television off … I do not need nor want a panel of people to tell me what the candidates said.  I want to scream at them:  Hey, I was listening!  (A side note:  Two days later the news channels are still tellling me what I saw.)

On the night of the debate, after shutting off the noise, I walked out on the porch.  With no street lights the evening was dark; I could hear the power of the great lake smashing against the break wall.  I considered the political discussion I had viewed.  What will these politicians do for me, for my life?  I doubt if there will be a legacy as simple as Roosevelt’s. On this day, I found a Petoskey stone; I had a stunning climb, I was taken aback by the force of the water.  There was no need for a panel of experts to tell me this.  I got it.  I believe I have found my own big stick.

100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

My insurance agent has season tickets to the Detroit Symphony Orchestra POP series performed at the Max Fisher Music Center in Detroit.  Sunday her husband under estimated a project leaving a ticket – voila, for me!

After parking the car, we walked across the parking lot with the roar of Tiger fans cheering the home team in Comerica Park in the background making downtown seem alive and bright.  Only Woodward Avenue separated the fans of both the DSO and the Tigers.  And, if truth be told, I would have loved to have the chance to take part in both experiences.  Baseball has the benefit of hot dogs, popcorn and beer and the DSO, well, just the beer.  Both venues manage to cheerfully overcharge.  Ah, culture : )

There is always anticipation for me when attending a live event.  After walking through the glass doors, I whispered “Go Tigers”, to my friend and we headed to our seats.  This particular concert featured not only the orchestra but acrobats from Cirque du Soleil making it a mix of sport and culture.   This was going to be fun.

Music Center is small enough to feel intimate and our seats were excellent.  A clear pitch sounded twice … a warning that the show would begin.  At first I closed my eyes taking in the vibrating tones of various instruments that harmonized together moving “Festive Overture, Op 96 “into a crescendo that developed to a full uproar.  I heard that at that moment of the musical climax our Tigers came from behind making the final score 4 to 3.  I learned this piece of information from the woman squeezing past me to reach her seat before the next composition began.  I love that she had to wait in the lobby, she had to know … like me she had wanted to attend both.

Now the orchestra could have my full attention.  And they would, because accompanying Camile Saint-Saens “Danse macabre, Op 40” was an amazing female acrobat who executed a dance mixed with contortion and acrobatics that wowed the crowd and me. 

As a young girl, I remember being thrilled while on a school field trip to the DSO.  And  music still does that to me as an adult, all of my senses titillated by the sounds, the body moves of the acrobats, the showmanship of the kettle drummer (rump a pum pum) and the conductor, Jeff Tyzik, who was an enthusiastic vision of how to have fun while working.   

Ah, the healing timbre permeated the acoustic hall and touched my heart.  I have had a personally difficult month.  But, there is still music.  And, there are people, like me, seated in this venue just wanting to believe that our troubles can be set aside. 

The music would have been enough but we (I view the entire audience as one organism) were on our feet by Bizet’s “Les Toreadors” a finale complete with the mastery of two male acrobats who moved as one in perfect balance and strength.  I know you Classic lovers; what I have relayed is not pure symphony.  But from my point of view it was; yes indeed, a work of art, a masterpiece,  the music, the controlled bodies, me and of course, my $4.00 bottle of beer.   

Opening a Sealed Chest

As I shared a few days back, I am reading a book by Alice Miller.  I want to post a paragraph from her work The Body Never Lies. (149)

"But I believe in time there will be more and more of them (referring to positive healing in adults), as we realize that we owe no gratitude, and certainly no sacrifices, to parents who abused us when we were small.  These sacrifices are made for the sake of phantoms, idealized parents who have never existed.  Why do we go on sacrificing ourselves for the sake of phantoms?  Why do we remain the captives of relationships that remind us of the torments we went through when we were young?  Because we hope that someday this will change, if we can find the magic word, assume the right attitude, achieve the right kind of understanding.  But that would mean contorting ourselves in the same way as we did in our childhoods in attempt to obtain love.  Today, as adults, we know that our efforts were exploited, that this was not love in the true sense of the word.  So why do we ultimately expect love from people who, for whatever reason, were unable to love us when we were small? 
If we succeed in abandoning that hope, those expectations will fall away, taking with them the self-deception that has been a constant factor in our lives.  We no longer believe that we are not worth loving; we no longer believe we must prove that we are worthy of love after all.  We are not to blame. It is the fault of the situation our parents found themselves in, what they made of the childhood traumas they themselves went through, the progress they made (or failed to make) in coming to terms with those traumas.  There is nothing we can do to change all that.  All we can do is live our own lives and change our attitudes accordingly."

"Memoirs of A Girlhood Among Ghosts" (Maxine Hong Kingston)

In a six month writer’s workshop that I attended taught by author Maxine Hong Kingston (The Woman Warrior), I wrote many short stories.  In my final evaluation, Maxine wrote that until I could understand why I visited death (cemeteries) with my work, I would struggle.  She said I needed a huge canvas for the words she felt I wanted to share. She is correct.  I realize that I have lived in a box. 

These are questions I am pondering today:

What is unconditional love?  Have I ever experienced this phenomenon?  If I have not, how can I with an open heart extend this emotion?   Am I capable of finding true creative freedom? 

"The Body Never Lies"

Today I am reading "The Body Never Lies" by Alice Miller.  Toward the end of the introduction she makes an interesting statement:  “They preach forgiveness as a path to recovery and appear not to know that this path is a trap by which they themselves are caught."   This sentence intrigues me. 

The book I just finished was on forgiveness and I have had disagreements with some of the philosophy.  I have wondered about the abused child.  Certainly, a child has no power over their abuser.  Miller addresses that condition.  Well, I am only on page 25 so there is more to glean but, the first time in all my reading that I have come across an author with bravery to speak to this concern.

"Rolling on the River"

I am examining what is important to me because I have been making decisions that are unsatisfactory.  Life experiences are difficult to bear and I have found myself emotionally unprepared.  The fairy tale idea that a person is going to snatch me from what is real (and painful) and make the life lived to date go away is ridiculous (although appealing in a novel).  To run away from authenticity is impractical  to me and my innate ability (and to the person I am running to).   I have had many moments in which I know that “this is my life” but then turn away to jump on the treadmill marked “flee”.  The only intellectual and affective growth I have  ever gained is when I had the courage to turn and face my situation without self-pity and with an open heart to learn.

There Is A Season

During the early evening yesterday, I walked two miles along side a small lake.   The greens are beginning to blush with the insistence of fall presenting an opulent palate of purple, reds, oranges and yellows. The lowering sun cast a Monet reflection of the tree lined path onto the shallow water’s edge.  I knew that what I was experiencing would last only a short time in comparison to the offering of the rest of the year.  The glorious colors will soon drop from the limbs and drift to the ground becoming dried crunch.  

With the Exception ...

In regard to my last post "The Great Pretender", here is where I take exception to some of what I am learning from C. Terry Warner's book.  Forgiving is one step but more work needs to be done.  People who have been abused are traumatized; their DNA code is altered.  Often they revisit a destructive relationship to figure out what does not work.  Until the adult ego can develop, choices can be harmful. 

When I find myself experiencing the same negative results over and over within a relationship, a red light should flash:  Stop; caution!  Walk away.