Forever Single

by Bev, posted in Singles

The caller sighed deeply and sounded as though she was on the verge of tears.  A feeling of depression filled the airwaves as the disc jockey and listeners listened intently to her trembling voice.

She wanted desperately to be married.  She wanted a family of her own.  She wanted to be loved and to love, but she could find no one to reciprocate her feelings of wanting to commit to only one.  Where were the eligible men, she asked, and why didn’t the available men want to commit to one woman.

She was thirty-four years old.

The hopelessness in her voice reminded me of an old Twilight Zone episode about psychological solitary confinement.  Was her confinement self-imposed or societal?  Why did being single seem like a death sentence to her?  What was her hurry?  What pool of men did she consider eligible?  What made her think marriage was the answer to the void she identified?

I listened and felt empathy for this woman who saw the glass as half empty instead of half full.  Her emptiness dialed into a public forum in search of reinforcement from other lonely hearts who shared her feelings.  I shared her thoughts but not the feeling that she needed someone else to make her whole.

A sign of the times, I thought, as traffic slowed to a dead stop.  There is always too much or too little.  There was never a happy median.

I heard a cry of desperate longing and faithlessness in her conversation as her monologue progressed from sharing her life to wanting to belong to someone other than herself.  This sense of possession rang out as unintelligible garbage to me.

Why should any human being feel the need to “belong” to someone else?  Is possession truly what we want or do we simply want to share ourselves, our lives with others.

I tried not to judge, but the life she thought she wanted sounded like a living death sentence.  I enjoyed being single, and happily broadcast that fact to those who assumed I had to be married, because I’m happy doing so well on my own.  Being the elusive butterfly in a world rapidly changing for the worst suited me. Snap decisions, instant gratification, date rape, aids, and moral decline; helps me stay above the fray of negativity inherent in men and women who discard reason in favor of hedonistic lifestyles.

It is the nature of man to conquer and seek challenge.  Most men become bored with being able to possess totally.  What satisfaction does he get, knowing you live for him, and not yourself?  Women that hold their own and are not sidetracked by the game are doing quite well emotionally.

Men are full of game and will always try to gain as many women to their harems as possible.  But, a woman to be gained and tamed is more in demand than one who begs to be caught.

Now, I started to feel sorry for the caller.  I think it was her outlook on life that caused me to change from empathy to sorrow.

She was not satisfied with herself, I thought; she didn’t know who she was, and she wanted to depend on someone else for that definition.

I had learned long ago that the women in demand are the ones who never take no for an answer, who dance to the beat of a different drum, who love themselves, who don’t like to waste time, who strive to achieve goals, and are  “Women Who Run with the Wolves”.

Maybe I should call the station in response to this woman’s search for someone in-between her knight in shining armor and the man she would eventually settle for.

Traffic started to move and I accelerated into a higher level of consciousness as I blocked out the daily rat race.

Was I missing something?  Was I too smug?

The traffic slowed again and I changed stations, looking for something else to keep me in tune with my expectations.

Forever single lingered in my mind.  Forever single in a world where two incomes gave one a feeling of security built on a false sense of worth that only multiplied the loneliness felt by those who wanted involvement any way they could get it.

Do women need children and a man to be whole or do the norms of society contribute to this feeling of helplessness and shallow lack of self-worth.  Are women hoping for past practices in a unisex society that is slowly placing less emphasis on gender?  Seems like some things never change as we attempt to hold on to what was in a society where marriage is declining and single households surpass traditions.

Woman these days should have more concerns than hoping, wishing, looking, and betraying themselves for Mr. Rescue.  Do these women want Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now?

This problem of marriageable committed men has gained more momentum due to other social ills that are suffered the world over.  There was a time when men did most of the choosing and women were confined to flirting, winking, and blinking.  This I call the age of restrained behavior.

Now-a-days women are free to do more physically to attract, seduce, and domesticate, in hopes of getting a man to commit.  The problem is that there are so few real men left

The listening audience of the morning talk show might beg me to differ and say that there are plenty of men out there, and I would not disagree, except to say that quantity is no substitute for quality.  The lack of quality will be a rude awakening for women who end up belonging to someone who for whatever reasons will not or won’t be able to support basic necessities such as food, clothing, and shelter.

Can you also be forever single and married to?

 

Humdrum Part Two

by Bev, posted in Life

I’m here now, at my work site.  I’m late, by my standards, but it’s only five forty five and I’m the only one here.  I’m asked all the time; why I get up so early in the morning.  I remember indulging in polite conversation, with a guy at a bar, and he mentioned getting up every morning at what I thought was an ungodly hour.  He was an artist.  I asked him why so early.  He said that sleep was over rated and that his creative genius soared when the rest of the world was still asleep.  Some things you never forget.  I took his philosophy to heart, experimented, and found myself more productive early rather than late.  I discovered I’m a morning person.

The truth of the matter is…I have a life outside of a three sided cubicle, so I get in early, so I can get out early.

I log in and sit back, thinking of what I need from this day.  I need to write, I need to make room for my passion, and I need to get my employer’s work done, so I can sneak in a few hours writing.

The fire within me is dying to get out and I am afraid it will be doused by the rigors of life.  But, I’m confined for the next eight hours – three of which I will write.  I have learned not to let the right hand know what the left hand is doing.  I have learned to pretend I’m busy, even when I’m all caught up, so they don’t give me someone else’s work to do.  I’m making sure I get out of this day what I need, while fulfilling my obligation as an average person would do.  But, I’m not average.

I’m a lover and observer of people.  People are fascinating creatures, full of you know what most of the time, yet pretentious though not easily persuaded outside of their comfort zones.  Opposite of most of the people I interact with; I graciously push them into examining what they think and why they think it, so I can gauge how I’m doing.  Humanity teaches me something about life every day.  Sometimes it teaches me how much of a monster man can be to man.

Life presents many opportunities; you just have to know which ones to take advantage of and which opportunities to ignore or just say no to.  Important decision making can be a daunting task, and procrastinating won’t make the decision any easier when force to confront it.  I’ve never been one to blame my failings on someone else.  I’m sure most of my past decisions got me to this point, because I went right when some of my friends went left and fell into a ditch.

Some of my friends became hooked on drugs or alcohol, and a few did time in the penitentiary for passing worthless checks and selling weed.  I use to know someone, in South Carolina, who murdered a college student, did time, and as far as I know is probably walking the avenues of Columbia, South Carolina right now.

They say association brings on assimilation but I never wanted to be controlled by anybody or anything.  So even though I knew pimps and hookers; I always had sense enough to know when to say no.  Back then, people respected decisions and never tried to force anything on anybody.  It was peace, love, and let live.  So, I know my choices and God’s grace is what kept me out of trouble.

You see, I did everything my parents told me to do.  I got good grades and, graduated high school in the top ten of my class, and I’ve always tried to do the right thing, because I never want to say I’m sorry.

But, the economy has changed.  Resources are scarce and employment is unstable.  Long gone are the days when you could quit a job one week and have another job a week later.  The system our parents depended on and pushed us into has deteriorated and the majority of Americans are the middle class working poor.  We live from pay check to pay check and are about three paychecks from foreclosure.  It’s an employer’s market now and a college degree doesn’t guarantee a foot in the door anymore.

I’ve run the gauntlet and decided to take my life to another level by using my mind as a springboard to creating the life I’ve always wanted to have, and I will do it on my terms.

Now, just having a job isn’t enough.  No one retires after twenty or thirty years with the same company anymore.  My parents didn’t know enough to steer me into the pursuit of my dream.  It has taken years of getting to know myself for me to come to the realization that we are all pawns on someone else’s chest board, and unless you take a leap of faith and jump off, all you will do is work and die.

It’s strange how opportunities come when trying to focus on the life you dream of.  For me it became a choice of holding onto a job, making good money, or making my dream a reality.  Sometimes holding onto a job is like counting sheep.  You fall asleep and the life you really want fades into the background, until corporate realities surface in the form of layoffs or reorganizations.  I am not being smug when I say money isn’t everything, especially in the twenty first century.  But, when my true calling made its presence profound; there was nothing I could do but resign from my job and move forward.  Opportunities tied to the pursuit of money decrease creativity, opportunities tied to the pursuit of dreams will give you your heart’s desire.

I kept coming back to my life’s passion.  A passion I’ve worked on for at least twenty years.  Did it take all that time for me to become who I am today?  I think so.  So now, after all these years working for someone else and earning a wage, I know a job was not the answer for me.  I got caught up in a detour that took twenty plus years to get out of.  Material things got in the way, tied me up, held me hostage, and almost changed my life forever.  I got off the exit ramp and I am determined to make a positive difference by any means necessary.

The temptation to give up, go with the herd, and listen to the hype of resigning myself to a life of quiet desperation leaves me restless and thinking this can’t be all there is for living life.  I sort past people, events, unseen forces, detours, and guilt trips.  Few people understand the choices that must be made to get out of the rat race until they too have dreamt of true freedom.  It’s life changing, but lonely too.

The kingdom within is more powerful and thought provoking than any man or woman can imagine.  The life force called intuition steers me onward through self-doubts.  I put one foot in front of the other not knowing where I will end up…just knowing that if I don’t keep moving forward the repercussions and regrets will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I know deep within my heart that riches beyond measure await me in this life and the next.  Discipline is the key to unlocking all God means to give me.

The energy generated in each day must be used to the fullest anyway I can.  The demands of this busy planet will not consume me.  I must cast off negative, washed up, compassionless, people who feel they must tune into the noisy desperation that feeds their spirit.

Slow down and let the herd go past you.  There is safety in number, but not in a pack mentality that keeps us in a time warp disguised as added value.  Are we feeding upon ourselves?

The older I get, the more I value life with a healthy respect for its short span.  I am convinced and convicted that no human being will exercise control over what future I have left.  I must be about my Father’s business with due diligence as snares appearing to have my best interest at heart materialize.

At some point; I think we should become selfish, head strong, taking no prisoners, and allowing only what is relevant to our mission to seep through.

Staying on the right course is hard to maintain.  External and internal forces, positive and negative, attract our attention for days, months, years.  When hungry for a way out of the rat race, we derail ourselves thinking we can help God out.  Sometimes we find ourselves in derailments meant to lead us to the promise land.  Sometimes we derail when in our gut we already know our gift.

When we know our gift; we must not question or take counsel from those more interested in their mission than ours.

If Jesus could walk the walk, talk the talk, all the time knowing he was sinless, but would die for our sins, then why do we snuff out own spirits seeking treasures that deplete our spirituality.

I’m tired of being tired and finally realize it’s now or never.  I got off the merry go round and am acclimating myself to living the life I was meant to have twenty years ago.  Change your life while you can!

Enough day dreaming, it’s time to get back to work.

Humdrum Part One

by Bev, posted in Life

The alarm clock goes off and I turn over to see exactly what time it is.  I can never remember what time I set it for, because I’m always changing the hour I arise from my sweet release.

It’s three A.M.  I hit the snooze button and sink back into the warm spot.  Closing my eyes again; I stretch and find that place in my subconscious that releases me back into the arms of peacefulness.  I rest, breathing deeply, while hoping a dream will take me to that make believe world of endless vacations, sunny beaches, clear blue water, and love making with the Count of Monte Cristo.

The snooze button goes off for the third time and I finally sit up and thank the Lord for my day.  A positive frame of mind is how I start each day, hoping that theme will carry me through until my head caresses my pillow once again.

My first stop each morning is to the kitchen and I am followed by my two cats, Taps and Grey.  Taps, the tom cat looks on as if he is royalty and I am his attendant.  Sometimes I wonder who actually runs the house, me, or his highness.  Grey purrs as she brushes against my bare legs. She adopted me instead of the other way around.

The coffee pot emits its tantalizing aroma into the bedroom, where I take great pains to make sheets, coverlet, and pillows sing a song that says lay on me.  But, one of the rules of the house is – no one lies on my bed unless invited.  Even the cats obey and know that if Mommy is not in bed, then they shouldn’t be there either.  Making up my king size bed is a labor of love, and my petite frame loves to stretch out in any direction it pleases, unless of course there is a cat in my way.

C-SPAN is on, but I quickly change to the weather channel for today’s forecast.  Its late January and thirty to forty degree temperatures move me towards the closet for something warm and chic.

I plan to hit the road at five.  My commute is forty-five minutes.  My dislike of traffic leads me out into the wee hours, when most of Dallas and Fort Worth is still asleep.

For the last five years I have reflected, analyzed, faced, and rearranged my life while desperately trying to maintain a lifestyle threatened by economics and presidential administrations.

The land of prosperity has become the land of haves and have not’s.  The Jones’ are trying to keep up by using credit, as opportunities shift across the globe.

Read part two tomorrow

Realization

by Bev, posted in Dating

It’s too late.

You’re out of time.

No more stringing me along.

I am not weak.

 I hear the throng as I weep.

But I know that tomorrow I’ll sleep,

Peacefully and without regret.

You see,

I’m a woman in need,

of one thing,

true love and devotion,

not arguing and commotion.

 I love you still. 

I always will.

I freely give back your ring.

I can see a light,

at the top of this hill.

 It shines brightly and beckons me on.

I must believe in my abilities,

no shelter have I found in thee.

Oh,

I thought,

you had such possibilities.

But, no matter.

No love loss as they say.

I have weighed the situation,

therefore I’ll pray,

and thank God.

For I have found my way.

I’m free to love,

myself,

this day.

The Last Straw

by Bev, posted in Singles

I asked, “What channel was that?”

Instead of him answering, he punched the buttons on the remote.  The channel reappeared and he said, “That’s what channel it is!”

“Ump,” I said as my eyes involuntarily blinked twice and my jaw hardened into a frown I had no intention of hiding.  I said to myself, why didn’t he just say what channel it was?  Why all the drama?  I couldn’t believe all the inconsideration he demonstrated towards me.  The bed sheets were still damp from intercourse shared less than a half hour ago.  I’d just gotten home from a three day trip to Sacramento to visit my family.  He acted like he couldn’t wait to get me between the sheets and welcome me home, now that same old selfish attitude of his had reared its ugly head.

Funny how a simple act, omission, or comment can transform itself into the last straw.

“You knew what channel it was,” I said as I looked in his direction.  All you had to do was say so.  What is your problem?”

He looked at me as if I’d lost it, as if I’d nitpicked him instead of him nitpicking me.

He reached for his pack of Winston’s laying on the nightstand.

He started it, so I kept on railing.  “I just got home.

Those little tactics you think will control me aren’t working.”

“What’s wrong with you,” he asked?

As usual, it was my fault, so I left him sitting on the side of the bed smoking his brains out.  Enough is enough, I said to myself as I disappeared down the hallway and out of his eyesight.  Let him sit and do what he does best; smoke, stare at the television, and think about what an ass he had just been.  Knowing him, he was probably asking himself why he just didn’t tell me what channel it was.  No, he had to be a jackass.  Now he was feeling just as alone as when I was in Sacramento.

Before I knew it, it’s Tuesday and the situation between my once significant other has not gotten any better.  While he’s at work, I’m physically free, but my mind is tied up in knots trying to decide what to do.  B. B. King comes on the Oasis and belts out “The Thrill is Gone”, and I sway back and forth to the beat agreeing with every word he says.

It’s almost time for him to come home so I leave, because I can’t stand being in the same house with him anymore.  On my way to the movies, I make up my mind.  I’m moving out.  I wish I could move back into my house, but it’s under lease, so I’ll have to find someplace else to live.  After living in a house for the past fifteen years, I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in an apartment again.  No that’s out.  It has to be a condo or townhouse so that my baby (Taps the cat) and I can have our privacy.  Besides, Taps likes to go out to do his business so I need a small yard so we can both have some space.

Thursday morning I woke up, started the coffee, and found the phone book.  This morning I wouldn’t sit on the toilet drinking coffee and working a puzzle.  This morning I jotted down phone numbers of property managers.  Half the morning had gone by when I backed out of the driveway on my way to drive by a list of locations realtors had given me.

I immediately ruled out the first location as unsafe.  The next two condos were attached.  I was leaving to become unattached so why would I rent a condo or townhouse resembling a part of someone else’s life.  My fourth stop was also attached, but had a garage.  It was more modern than the last two and the walkways were on the side, so you might never see your neighbor.  OK, attached, but not attached.  Maybe.  I had one more stop to make before going back to the house for lunch.  I wasn’t calling it home anymore, just “the house”.  Yea, it was time to go.

Bingo!  From the outside it was cute.  Focusing my eyes, I peeped between pickets to get a glimpse of the back.  It had a deck, a big shade tree, and enough yard for Taps to poop, scratch, and feel safe in.

The Realtor agreed to meet me in Desoto to see the one with the garage.  We walked through and I liked it.  Then we drove to the one standing alone without a garage but with the deck.  It was perfect and rented for seventy-five dollars less than the one with the garage.  With the application fee in hand, the Realtor promised to call by Monday.  I drove off, feeling resigned and looking forward to the transition that was soon to take place.

Can you imagine sleeping in the same bed with someone you felt passionate about and all you can think of is getting the hell out?  He laid there snoring and I laid there wishing he would take up space in the room his son use to sleep in.

Monday arrived and I hadn’t heard from the Realtor.  I wanted to move Wednesday, July second, because he was going on vacation July third.  I knew moving when he would be there would only cause more anxiety then necessary.  Can you imagine asking, “Can you get up, the movers are ready to load the bed onto the truck!”  No, I had to move while he was at work.

I got the boxes out of the storage building, found the tape, and began packing.  These were the same boxes I moved into his house with.  I’d saved these boxes three years and eight months, anticipating the day would come when I would need them.  He wasn’t right for me then, but I was so in love, I thought.  I thought we would get use to each other.  I found out it doesn’t work that way.

“We’re still trying to verify employment,” said the office manager.  “Your credit is ok.  It’ll probably be another day or two before we can let you know something.”

“Do you know who you spoke to at the agency,” I calmly asked.

“We didn’t get a name.  The note here says someone will call us back.”

I listened, knowing the temporary agency I freelanced with rarely returned calls.  I was unemployed and the last time I’d worked on an assignment was two months ago.

“This isn’t going to happen is it?”  I asked.  “The movers want me to call back before noon today or else they can’t move me Wednesday.”

“Let me call you back,” said the Office Manager.

I continued to pack.  I knew I was moving come hell or high water.  I looked at my plugged in cell phone a dozen times.  It was on.  No, my ears hadn’t deceived me.  No calls or messages.

It’s eleven o’clock.  I haven’t eaten.  All I can think about is July fourth.  Independence Day.  The catchy tune on my cell phone, get my attention.

“Hello,” I say as cool as a cucumber.

“Beverly, this is Sherrie at Move In Realtors.  I called the owner of the property and she says to give you the keys.  We’ll need first month’s rent and an eight hundred dollar deposit.”

“I’ll be there within the hour.”  I looked up towards heaven with closed eyes.

Getting the go ahead caused my stomach to flutter as I immediately thought about how much packing I had to do.  I called the movers and was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon.  It was going to be all work and no play, so I loaded my car with as much as it could carry and pointed it in the direction of the bank.  After signing the lease, getting the keys, and handing over a sixteen hundred dollar cashier’s check, I rode up highway sixty-seven to my soon to be residence and unloaded the car.  That afternoon, I made many trips unloading little things I didn’t need to pay movers to transfer.

I was tired as hell by Tuesday evening when he walked through the door.  We hadn’t looked each other in the eyes or spoken since the remote control incident.  Boxes laid open everywhere, and I was busy filling, closing, taping, and labeling what belonged to me.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said back.

He nonchalantly walked back to the bedroom.  I held my breath, waiting for some comment from him.  We had argued before about me leaving.  This wasn’t the first time I’d packed boxes, stacked chairs on top of the dining room table, took down pictures, rolled up rugs, and emptied the china cabinet, but it was the first time I’d kept the momentum going until it reached a critical mass level with only one end in sight – escape.  After all, it was the first time I’d paid a deposit on a new dwelling place and I wasn’t about to lose sixteen hundred dollars.  It was over.

I couldn’t continue to pack and not say something.  Being the diplomat I am, I walked down the bare hallway where little holes could be seen.  Holes that held hooks, hooks that once held pictures that brought a feeling of peacefulness to the house I thought I was turning in a home.

 

Peace

by Bev, posted in War and Peace

As time goes by, I wonder when America will be at peace again.

Flags fly high as a beacon to our soldiers in foreign lands.

Who defend our right to be free from terrorist sadistic plots and plans.

Hatred abounds around the globe as we fight to keep mass destruction from America’s shores.

Because of our freedoms those who hate, want to bring us to our knees.

We hold our heads up high as we debate how we will crush the hate that crashed through our gates.

Although we bite our tongues, we are sure of one thing.

Never again will we stand idly by while all the world over children cry.

We take our swords to enemy territory and pray that God will cast his glory.

Attitude

by Bev, posted in Mind, Body, and Soul

It takes plenty of attitudes to walk among the imps racing around causing havoc in the world we live in.  Attitude keeps me above the fray, somewhat aloof, out of the to-do atmospheres the majority of sheep wallow in day in and day out.

I don’t have time, and have never paid attention to those who’s attitudes are downright nasty and rotten to the core.  You see, attitudes take on a number of altitudes and can lead to forward progress that benefits humanity or it can maim and torture the unsuspecting and least capable of defending themselves.

My attitude wards off those who would do me harm, but who appear to have the best intentions, or what I call ulterior motives.  After all, humans will always do what they perceive is best for them or their ilk when push comes to shove.

Sometimes it’s best to have an attitude of indifference because trying to be everything to everybody can only lead to mental breakdowns, and who wants to bear the burden of a defeatist attitude.

Today (2014) people have the attitude someone else is to blame for their short comings.  The blame game is extremely popular these days because admitting fault or error is seen as a weakness.  It takes a very dynamic attitude to not fall prey to the “It’s not my fault,” mentality and admit no one knows everything and it’s human to err.

People cop the wrong attitudes and run with their herd mentalities because they’re lazy thinkers, feel it’s safer in numbers, and want someone else to make their decisions (although they will never admit this).  Thinking what others think for the sheer easiness of the lack of process is a sign of ignorance my attitude cannot abide.  I’m reminded of the Nazi party members who went along to get along and marched with their heads held high in celebration of what they thought was victory that would last a thousand years.  When destructive attitudes cause us to ignore history we will repeat it.

Attitudes manifest into many forms depending on which stage we’re on or which individual we’re interacting with.  Family members, friends, co-workers, associates, those we like, those we love, and those we love to hate, or feel ambivalent about all call for different attitudes and at different times.

An overall positive attitude about life is paramount and far more proactive and productive than a pessimistic one.  But pessimism isn’t all bad, living in a world cloaked with myriads of secrecy and motives not always good for the survival of all species.

When I was younger; I felt nothing or no one could interfere with my attitude but today anything can disrupt my attitude, whether good or bad, but how I react is the only thing I can control.  So, my attitude strives to be cognitively engaged at all times so I can maintain the high or moral ground to foster an attitude of appreciation of all people no matter what their backgrounds and attitudes.

To fight fear and have peace of mind is the right attitude for love and forgiveness.  Today spiritual beliefs are set aside to appease fears that may be real, but in all actuality are used to fuel hidden agendas men of power or men who want power use to divide and conquer those who sustain their lively political posturing.

Human beings seem to be moving towards an attitude of total indifference to the suffering and inhumanity of those they don’t know or don’t like.  Raping of women, human trafficking, pedophilia, wars, drugs abuse, domestic violence, church scandals, political bickering at the cost of a whole nation, are issues we frequently hear about and shrug our shoulders at because we think we’re defenseless.  There is only so much the thinking brain can take in and not go crazy about, so we fight only the battles we think we can win, which are mainly those associated with our comfort zones.

Life as we use to know it is more about surviving than helping those too weak to fend for themselves.

Stretching

by Bev, posted in Mind, Body, and Soul

Standing nude before the bathroom mirror I stretch, raising arms, hands, and fingers towards heaven.  Rotating my shoulders back I feel a sensation of ease leading to relaxation of muscles tightened from the days never ending anxieties of the man-made world I live in.

I look upon my outstretched limbs and marvel at the beauty of my flesh.  I feel oneness with myself.  I am still in one divine piece after all these years.  All me, all organic, free range, and tone to the bone.  No artificial implants for this beautiful mocha physique.

I close my eyes, listening and immersed in the moment.  It’s quiet.  My cell phone is turned off, there is no landline phone in my bedroom, and the television is not on.  There’s just me and Grey, my cat, here in front of the mirror; checking ourselves out.

Why does stretching feel so good all the time…whether morning, noon, or night.  Our bodies appreciate the extended release of internal inconsistencies irrelevant to our spirits.  Tensions are purged and our body unwinds into a short sweet blissful aha moment that feels much like heaven on earth.

I think about stretching past the good, bad, and ugly to the meaningful.  Life is a stretch that requires the concentration of a yoga master. What exactly does it mean to enjoy life abundantly unless you extend and stretch past Maslow’s basic needs?

My passion, for writing, continuously eats at me.  I pick it up and put it down.  I wish, and then realistically put myself in check.  I must make it happen.  I must stretch if I am to conceive what burns within me.  The incubation period has been far too long.

I stretch my thighs as I kneel down in prayer, giving thanks to the Almighty.  Tension leaves my neck because of a pouring out, a cleansing brought about by prayer.

I am at the beauty shop under a hair dryer, writing, hearing the slap of dominoes, as hot air blows upon my head, over my ears, out among others waiting for the opportunity to sit in this spot.  Feet tap anxiously, phones and cell phones ring, water runs, and voices join in the throng of endless gossip and reverie.  Women flip through magazines looking for a style that will refresh their look and make them feel like someone else.  I sit here stretching, looking, and soaking everything in as I compose.  All the while knowing each moment is precious.  I may see you next week, I may not.

My life has never been ordinary, but it’s not extraordinary either.  Ordinary doesn’t compute with my personality.  By no stretch of the imagination am I ordinary.  People have always thought me different, a rebel, a non-conformist, never following the herd, dancing to the beat of a different drum, never holding in, communicating, not taking sides, seeing both sides, standing strong, believing in truth, accepting responsibility, not happy with the status quo, idealist, realist, cutting to the chaste, and convicted by one thing – the truth.  No situational ethics for me.

I’m stretching, reaching, and fueling my engine as I get ready to roll my way over the top of this hill to the next plateau.

We all have hills to climb.  Hills are dynamic – they shift and sometimes crumble to the ground, like when an earth quake occurs.  What use to be there is changed until the next wave of natural catastrophes blow our minds.  Like when ants build a mound and a lawn mower, foot, or drenching rain destroys it.  The ant stretches and rebuilds.

Human hills can be environmental, man-made, self-imposed, and in many cases; just plain stupid.  The San Francisco earth quake changed a lot of peoples’ lives.  The housing bubble was man-made, dripping with greed, and almost caused all of us to go under.  A person buying a home they can’t afford was underlined with lack of education and a self-imposed disaster and wake-up call.  Thinking you don’t need to keep learning is just plain stupid.

And just when you think you can take your foot off the brake and coast a while the unexpected happens and you must stretch to get through it.  Most thinking people are always reassessing life as they know it.  To keep moving forward takes a lot of stretching, will power, courage, commitment, and persistence.  Who knows if they’ll make it to their dream state, that special state of mind that says well done; now I can relax?  After all, it’s all about the journey…isn’t it?

I watch the circular motion of a fan rotating hot air.  It reminds me of a little mouse running around and around a circular wheel going nowhere, its energy expelled in fruitless activity.  Life can be like that, a rat race with oneself.  I stretch and realize that at this particular moment I’m not sleeping, eating, regretting, or preparing, or thinking about tomorrow.  I’m here now, composing, stretching my mind and knowing all I have is now so why not make use of it.

I feel the smoothness of my relaxed hair upon my sane head and I am aware my body has stretched again.  Each movement is a stretch, but in which direction?  Moving forward through life is a stretch.  It takes nothing to move backwards, or stay put, but stretching takes effort.

Learning fuels each and every part of me, giving me energy that enables each step to get wider until I run, then soar like an eagle.

I am a late bloomer, although I’ve always known this is not as good as it gets.  It’s as good as we want it to be.  I’m bored with the status quo.  I want to refurbish my life.  The reinvention of me is one stretch that shouldn’t take too much effort.  I’m a chameleon – adaptable.

Even someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth has to stretch to become someone other than the money inherited.

Spirituality is a stretch in the right direction or the wrong direction.  It depends on who or what you worship.  Straight is the gate and narrow is the path that leads to unbelievable relaxation into the arms of the one who knows me best.  I’m always stretching in His direction.

Christ stretched on the cross, with arms open wide, giving up his physical body, becoming transparent, and then he embraced the world with his love before returning to the Father.

Why must I stretch?  Why must I look beyond…into the unknown?  Why can’t I be content with what is before me, what I can see and feel, what I already know?  I’m never satisfied with what is as I stretch to what will be.  I just have to be me.  It’s in me is all I can say.  I was made this way.

I stretch to stay focused on the moment at hand, but can’t help thinking about the future.  What must I do next to stay afloat, to take care of myself, to ward off the tax man, the axe man, stock market manipulators, back stabbers, and a host of demons lurking around the corner waiting to pounce?  I desperately seek a higher ground, a higher purpose; away from ego and its protections.  My mission is awareness of life in the present as I rest totally on my faith and guarded by my divine hedge of protection.

Bending over backwards is unnecessary.  I can lean into the light…to stretch.

Are you stretching?

REST

by Bev, posted in Uncategorized

How does one’s imagination comprehend the death rattle of a child?

The slumped shoulders of a mother riled.

To what purpose does the ethnic cleansing rapist believe,

that spilling his seed will ease his grief?

Bloody hands drag babies into conscription,

only to die by the same child’s conniption.

Rivers of blood and tears flow into wounds of the innocent.

Into sores inflicted by those fearful for their lives.

Many of those afflicted are or were mothers and wives.

There is no joy.

There is no hope,

And no thought of a future,

only a desperate need to find refuge from death or the suture.

No nation is without guilt.

Even the United Nations is looking like a patchwork quilt,

splattered with blood from head to toe,

and dumbfounded as to how to combat such a foe.

Women trudge on, boys grow up, and babies are born.

Maybe evil men somewhere, someday;

will count their losses and finally access,

that there is no joy unless there is rest.

“The Last Ship”

by Bev, posted in Television

TNT’s new 2014 summer blockbuster accelerates my consciousness back to what I call the good ole days when America walked softly and carried a big stick, when Americans gave much thought before speaking, legislating, and deploying to foreign lands.

As a baby boomer and military brat; “The Last Ship” reminds me of America’s resolve, engineering, loyalty, love, and hard work.

The country I love, the country I was born in, the country that evolved through extremely divisive social ills into a country quick to defend through the enlistment of men and women trained to function as a military machine.

My eyes well with tears, as the plot crescendos, and we outsmart our enemies by using brain and compassion before brawn and destruction.

This program has no explicit sex or bleeps, just awesome content that educates and emulates the best in us…..USA.

As the credits run; I think about our current world view and wish we could see our way back to resolving domestic issues with less of the hoopla and photo opportunities and more reconciliation to do what’s best for America.

What is your current impression of America the beautiful?