The Return

To summarize the things experienced is an impossibility I can only aim for but I will give it my best for the rest of my life which I hope is a long time. 

I smell of urine. It isn’t mine. I already washed twice. The bedding in the bags was soaked. I barely opened one out of suspect. This is an increasingly alarming scenario. 

I noticed the bags first in the makeshift pen a few days ago. The first were clothes. I assume Kyle’s. Today there was one pink Hanna’s Las Vegas shirt at the end. Today, when I came to clean up more, it was the beheaded and bent over “Barbie” I noticed as the first article as I cleared away the garbage. I left. I debated reporting it. They’ve stopped showing up when I call in.  I imagine there’s plenty of DNA evidence for what… this kid? 

Over the years I wondered what happened when Kyle was gone. I had my suspicions but no never evidence. Not until I provided him a home, children, cars, money and prosperity… then the unthinkable started to happen. At first it was just domestic violence. Then it was drugs. Sprinkle in things missing and strippers. Only after I left did I learn about casinos. 

Truly tho it was leaving the home. At first it was just the only option but slowly, with each arrest and exposure, a very clear picture came into focus. This is my fourth time now, here, in my family’s last home.

Such desecration. At least it’s not me and my children in whatever this image is of what happened now. 

It's Funny. Life. Thirty Years. All This Experience. To Get To : Here.

It makes sense. Every lesson. Every Decision.
Every Action.

I've lived. I've known a lot of people that have not. Many that have killed them selves, in one way or the other.

I value life. I all ways have. I struggled, from the beginning, to survive it.

It's Insulting. People. What They Think. How They Judge. But, I know, I Know Why.
I was around for all of it.

I began studying Psychology when I was a child. Reading. Reading was all ways my escape.

Before Writing.

I read better than most people. Great novels in literature that most have yet to thumb through.

And,
I was ten.

Eight.
Seven.

I wanted to understand people. I had met so many! Between my mother and my step father and my grand parents and all the people they knew ~ there were all ways people.

I was quiet. Perceptive. A wonderful listener and observer. It was unquestionable that Psychology was in my future.

Text Books. Libraries. I was addicted. There was no internet. No computer. I had to sneak to use the phone. But, encyclopedias... I was all ways friends with those.

I absorbed knowledge. I wanted to understand how, and why, people did all the fucked up things I saw them do. Drugs. A lot of drugs. It took me years before I was ever brave enough to test you.

I watched the down fall. The way people just gave up on each other. The way they gave up on their self. How they'd rather just sit there, saying negative things, rather than do something positive and pattern-changing. It was easy. To stay the same. And, it was nurtured, through the use of television.

I stood back. Cautious.

Food.
We have all ways had an interesting relationship. There were years where we were starving. My Sister. My Lovely Little Sister. I'd find her crouched under the table, like a mouse, with a stick of butter. Eating It. Whole. Bite By Bite, because she was starving. I saw the lack of food in our fridge and cupboards. That was before there were food stamps and before I started making money and shopping.

There were these neighbors. They were fat. Very Very Fat. They actually were quite far down the street. Where the run down places actually became houses. They had kids. A lot of them. And, the house was a mess. Mess is an understatement. It Was Atrocious. Now, there are shows. Television Shows. "Hoarders." They would've been : Hoarders. Clothes. Dirty Clothes. Every Where. Mountains. Bigger than I. We'd go there. My siblings and I. I'd Clean. I started to cook. Very Very Slowly. It was the only place we ate. That, and, GrandMa's...

Six.
I was Six.

We lived in Sonoma.

Mondays

Today I officially begin applying for jobs in Eureka. It's been a year and a half year since I last hunted. Got the first and only job I applied for. Lasted three days. Corporate. They wanted me for management. They all ways do. Quit the job before that just over two years ago. Everyone says, "Good Luck." Everyone always tells me to think twice before I decide to stop showing up. But I always find another. Money. Job. We are what we seek.

I'm Not.

Last night I watched as my two cats scaled the highest point of this house. It goes so high, so steep, I was frightened. Telling them to be careful from my window so much lower. Sliding... They're fine. Every Time. If you were there before you can get there again; I'm sure.

But I don't.

I think of all the money I've made. Some days up to $400 and $500; regularly. I think of the people I've helped and supported. I used to volunteer. Served two years in AmeriCorps. Blah Blah Blah. And what do I have to show for it? Cats. Two Cats. Isis & Osiris.

And they were acquired. How much I've invested in things and people to create this concept of a stable life I always lusted for. I think today about the past, again, and how in so many ways I was disadvantaged. I survived. That's what people don't realize. I even succeeded. But it was false. I wasn't happy. I didn't go to sleep feeling rewarded. It wasn't real. So, I let it fall. Piece by Piece. Until the whole thing came a part and all I was left with was my self. With no more glamour or pre-conceived success it was the ultimate test for all people. Could you see me? Could you accept me? Could you handle your self when there was no more distraction or illusion to which you'd become comfortable? Most wont. Handle themselves. They'll just explode with the slightest impact or exposure. And then it's all out. Every card on the table. Instantly. It's that simple.

I'm tired of people. When did we forget that we're all individuals? Last I checked I knew but do you?
Apparently Not.

Apparently Not.

I think of the last person who fought to be my legal guardian. Sudie Pollock. A well-established land owner. Published Author. Millionaire. She sold me her trashed Volvo for a dollar. You know.. the one I still drive around. The one I've lived in and worked out of. I had to work; to pay for my self. Luckily it was a restaurant so I ate well. School was my first priority because all ways I'd known it was my only ticket out.

It wasn't.

I think of every one I know that still has help. Or support. I have one person. Ericka Apple. I love that girl so much.

My sister, three years younger, used to harass me so much. She hated when I'd wake her up. Every morning. It was still dark. Michael didn't care. Her father. We just wouldn't go to school and for him that wasn't a problem. Bus came an entire hour early but we all ways made it. Dark. She hated me. Just wanted to sleep. Said so many things...

I miss her a lot.

People Suck. As a group we're fucked. Pecking Orders. Competition. Let's Just Fuck. Who cares about love? Acceptance? Individuality? As a group... No one. We're corrupt.

So I stand a lone.
Meagan Ishtar.

I mean... We can do every thing we want to prevent the inevitable. But what is inevitable is inevitable and that we have to realize. I could live each moment in fear. I could deduct, each day, the presence of threat until I have nothing left but what I recognize. But then how am I pushed, to grow, to achieve, something more than I knew I could be? I wouldn't... I would live a life that I have dictated without the presence of difference and complication. To some this seems nice but then we are ill-equipped when the inevitable happens. And it will. Because it's inevitable.

The presence of control is an illusion. We have societies and businesses and economies and zillion-aires that live off this. Every time you pay a dollar you are accepting a complete system that controls a life you may or may not realize you are / want to be a part of.

To subscribe to a belief that dictates the remainder of your life is a delusion to which we all subscribe. But we shouldn't. It keeps us from being here, now. It keeps us from accepting the inevitable and living with what we have with gratitude. Fear is the basis of every thing we do. It's why I left.

What about you?

Guinness.

I drive along this island that seems to be the edge of the world and realize the sun hasn't even crested the mountain.top .There is so much expansiveness right along my side; the whole world it seems like.

How many times have I been here? Freedom in :My Face. It seems anything is possible; almost to the point where I've become paranoid. I think it and it is so. I say it and it happens, ten fold. Just last night I was talking about how I wanted to stay here and this morning I get that message asking me to; the message sent when I was talking about it, too.

I think of the people in my life that I never got to connect with the way I wanted to. How often I've held my self back out of respect and, it seems, the only result is a life that leaves me lonely and contemplative. But I think of all the things I've avoided. The lack of violence and betrayal because I was kind and loyal. I suppose it all works out in the end; I forget the game isn't over yet.

I think of how many people talk down to me. My entire life. Still. Like I don't know. Like I haven't a clue. Like I'm just floating, carelessly, like so many of you.

The repercussions of our actions fall on the few who take the time to dwell on them. Few Do. Dwell. And, Well... Maybe That's Good.

The source of beauty is a painful process. It takes digging and digging below the surface. It takes fearlessness as we dance along the edge's that so few experience. This depth; This expansiveness; This light that hasn't even appeared Yet. So few even notice it.

And I guess That's :My Poet.


xo

Bailey's & Guinness

I think of all the way I distract my self from the loneliness that lies in my chest. Thirty Years. Soon it will be thirty years of feeling, mainly, a disconnect. I think how, growing up, I never related to my peers and the complications that came from spending time with people that preceded me by so many years. I think of every person I have connected with and how almost every single one is gone now. I think, I write, because this was the only way to get what I actually felt out.

How often no one has listened.
How often no one has been there even when I am.

I think, "it's so easy to be distracted,"
but I'm tired of living life like this.


I'm like a pristine beach that everyone trashes.


Thankfully, the tide rises.
again and again and again

Fry Days

It's actually Tuesday. A month ago yesterday I found my self landing in Hawai'i. After Maui. For some reason I was sure I wasn't gonna make that flight. I've been walking around, this last year, with death ever present. It hasn't been me. Thankfully. I'm in no way ready to go yet.

The new moon was yesterday/last night. This is how I live my life. By the Lunar Cycle. I am A Gardener. I aim to be one with Soil. I give thanks as I eat what these plants that I love provide. Full Moon is Harvest. A time for the celebration of the fruit of your labor. The New Moon is for planting. A time of work and preparedness. I like to ride the momentum of these natural cycles that influence us on every level. That's just the tip of the iceberg that is massive underneath this surface...

About three weeks ago I gave myself a Mohawk. A very short one. It was the second cutting of hair that I loved. Before that I had dreadlocks. Before the first cutting that is. I loved them but their momentum was more than I was equipped to deal with. Perhaps on the second round tho... And this is how life goes. We learn from each experience that will repeat it's self and we can either grow, with each cycle, or give up. Life will play it's self out whether we choose to be involved. But, if we're engaged, the result will be worthwhile.

It's hard to remain engaged in this day and age. Truthfully, everything about our modern life and economy is meant to keep us distracted. We are powerful beings full of wisdom and light. If we accept this, if we express this, we can not be manipulated. And that's what our society is built on. Manipulation. How hard can I work you before you pass out? How much can I charge you before you will go somewhere else? How long can I subject you to the same information before you know nothing else? This is the process. Of our Work. Of our 'Education'. And people wonder why they come home with headaches feeling exhausted and worthless...

Every human is an enterprise. Each and every one of us has the skill set necessary for success. We are tricked when we focus deliberately on survival (altho, trust me, those instincts have definitely saved my ass also). But, as adults, as intelligent thinking adults, we can do anything we want and, most of the time, we'd be successful.

We are encouraged to be a product, not an individual. We are a number and a tax bracket and a mouth that is addicted to McDonald's. And that's all... unless you choose to omit your self from that system. You have to step, consciously, over that line that is drawn to divide us. On the other side is Free Enterprise. You either have it or You Don't.

so, which is it?


xo