My (not so) Merry Christmas

This morning, as I followed my normal random path of thoughts; one led me down a side trail that resulted in this post. It was written quickly so the writing might be stilted and choppy. It is also without much read through or editing, so please forgive any glaring errors.

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                      "In a world were everyone wears a mask, it is a privilege to see a soul'.

My thought this morning revolved around the pressure, ever growing, put on individuals to always have this perfect, happy life. To never be without control. To refuse to break under pressure or, if we do, to never, ever, for any reason show it. We live in a world wear a mask is required. I am sick of that rule. I am going to break it. So here is a snapshot of life for me today.

This has not been my happiest of holiday seasons. As the days have passed, screaming unapologetically towards Christmas, I've grown increasingly homesick. I am not sure if it's the difficult year I've had or my nephews or something else entirely, but the absence of Alaska and family has never been this hard. My eating disorder did a rather decent job of kicking my but the second half of November/first part of December. The last week an half has been better, though that always brings it's own set of issues. I saw the doctor a couple weeks back and found out I had pretty low iron levels. It brought relief, of a kind, to know the bone deep exhaustion I'd been feeling of late had an explanation. I started an iron supplement got a slight, but noticeable, uptick in energy. I hope that only continues. Work has been crazy, but I've adopted a routine of caring one day and then not letting it get to me the next. It also helps to remind myself that, compared to the responsibilities/stresses of my co-workers, my job is a cakewalk. This helps to curb my inner complaints. I've been filled with dreams and plans for the future, but an inability to immediately act on them, leaves me feeling stuck, stifled. I, of course, waited until the last minute to do Christmas shopping and no one will get their gifts on Monday, leaving me to feel like a horrible daughter/sister/friend etc.... Money is tight, more so than usual.

The purpose of sharing those things isn't to generate sympathy or pity. It was done to rip off the perfect mask of lies. It's to say that this won't be my happiest of Christmases and that's ok. Not every day is a good one, so too with holidays. That is life.

I know there are others, people with whom I interact almost daily, who are dealing with heartaches much greater than my own. And I know that at least a few of those people feel guilt over their lack of holiday spirit, try to hide the feeling they are crumbling. If any of them read these words, I hope they are able to glean from them their own strength to set fire to that guilt and rip off their own pain filled masks. It is ok to feel sad, to be witness to failure, to not love every second of your life.

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I worked hard to create happiness today. I smiled at the sight of Faelina quivering with trepidatious rage at birds skittering just outside my window. I could almost taste, her desire to break free, to attack. I started re-reading (something I never let myself do) one of my most favorite books, The King of Elfland's Daughter. I swear it is one of the most beautifully written books ever to exist. I went to the movies, finding fair entertainment for a couple hours. I decided on a walk and was graced with one of the most stunning mountain sights I'd seen in a long while. (Thank you universe for putting that thought in my head when you did).  I listened to music I loved, loudly, blurring the lines of where the music stopped and I began. I sneaked into Inspirations front door, found a new creative writing project. I deliberated over, decided upon, the word which will be my theme for 2018. I stepped through the doors of my favorite store Barnes&Noble. I sit now in their cafe, sipping coffee and typing away. I am fairly certain that when I leave this place, it will be with a few new books in tow (thanks to the gift card I've been saving!). I know I have a warm home to return to. And in that home is a small Christmas tree, sparkling with lights, and presents tucked beneath it's branches. Now some of those presents are the ones I didn't get in time to send, but others are from family and friends. People who love me. I have much to be grateful for. Today was a surprisingly good day. I have hopes that tomorrow will be another. If it isn't though that is ok. That is life.

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I close with a request...plea...call it what you will. Don't lock yourself inside a world of lies and false perfection. Rip off your own masks. Shine on the happy days but don't be afraid to let your tears show on the bad ones. Because you need them both, you need all emotions. Life is a breath of magic, one full of delightful beauty and devastating tragedy. Blink one away and you'll never be able to fly with the other. So live, fully, whatever that may bring.

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Poem

Make of this poem what you will. I give no explanation for it, save that it was sparked by words I heard this past week. It's not particularly graceful but, most times, neither is life.

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They want to be invisible

A winter star that’s never seen
Or blow away into the ether

Dandelion wisps lost to the wind

They dream only of the shadows

Long to walk those halls as ghosts

To at last become the hauntings

That have so destroyed their world

They’ll wake to that place someday

Perhaps sooner than they think

First fading into mist, then feathers

Then lost forever to the wind

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A Plea for Empathy

A few years back I wrote a short post about a video I'd seen on a work conference. The message of the video was to inspire empathy and understanding towards others, because so often you truly have no idea what joys or sadnesses they could be experiencing. The first time I saw this video I cried; watching it years later I cried again.

Lately, I've seen an overwhelming amount of judgement and negativity directed towards others. I see it in the world at large in politics, international relations, race, religion, etc.... but I also see, hear and feel it among the people I interact with on a daily basis. It saddens me, deeply.

So I've decided to share the link to the video again. I hope that you'll watch it. I hope too, that you'll take it's message to heart. That you'll remember the people you talk to in the store, the peers you interact with at work, and the neighbors who live across the street are living inside a world completely different from your world. Try not to judge too harshly, the person on the phone who says something rude - they might have just been yelled at themselves for no good reason. Don't criticize the people down the street for never having a clean yard - they might suffer chronic pain and not have anyone who can help them. Let go of any annoyance you may feel for a person who talks insufferably about the same topic over and over again - it might be the only thing in their life that brings them any joy.

Our world will, I think, be a better place if we can all find it in our hearts to do this more; and that in turn will make our hearts happier, brighter places to call home.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDDWvj_q-o8 

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A Return of Self

Since I last posted, I can point to only a handful of days I have not written at least one sentence. I would journal on the events of my day, on worries and concerns I’d troubled with, but all my sentences were stilted, chaotic. I’ve begun numerous short stories, each floundering after page one. I’ve penned poems but all so terrible that the poems themselves crinkled in shame at their own words. Often I wanted, really, to come back to this blog, but with my newfound inability to focus on any paper I’ve put pen to, I decided not to waste other people's time. I’m not quite sure why I’ve had such struggles, but I think primarily it all boils down to my mental health.

A brief snapshot of what that means. Earlier this year, I returned to therapy. I began in February and have gone almost every week since. My new therapist has a ton of experience working with those monsters called eating disorders, and with her help I've attained a few breakthroughs, but there have also been some setbacks. It's a constant swing of highs and lows that leave me with the inescapable feeling that I’m the ever fraying rope in a game of tug-o-war between my eating disorder and the whole rest of the world. I also continue to struggle with the place I currently call home. Mountains and the wild west aside, Utah continues to be a very difficult place for me to warm up to. I’ll skip the hard details for now, and simply boil my issues down to culture and air quality. I have this year let the stresses of my job affect me far more than should be allowed. And lastly, I went home in June, and while the trip was wonderful to extremes, leaving caused the same type of destruction Alaska visits have.

All this combined, led me to spend the majority of summer and early fall in a semi-depressed haze. There were days I had a hard time being happy with any part of my life, and had next to zero desire to go out and explore. Really, I had little desire to do anything but read, which I did - a lot. I had a hard time imagining how I was going to pull myself out this incredibly unwelcome slump. But then something beautiful happened, I went to Maine.

My first trip to Maine since driving away two years ago, was more than fun adventures with friends and frequent visits to my favorite haunting grounds. It was a reminder of the person I could be outside of Alaska. By that I mean the feeling that I'm never 100% complete unless I am physically in Alaska. In the past two years I've twisted that mindset to mean 'happy' can only exist with 'whole' and 'incomplete' would always mingle with 'sad'. But in Maine I realized that was a lie, one that slid away revealing underneath the me who could be not quite whole and also happy, full of hope, and ever adventurous too.

Flying away from Maine I sensed renewed health and dreams, and a lot more confidence in my ability to actually live the life I hope for. I landed in Utah full of many plans and a list of goals. One of those goals is a return to writing and to actually finish the stories, poems, and blogs I set out to create, so, I am. 

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An Impossible Poem

Throughout my whole life and all the, likely, hundreds of poems I've crafted, there really is only one I love entirely, that I feel proud to call mine. A terrible poem though is easy to create as long as it rhymes; and I write those constantly, often without even thinking about it. Rhymes come easy. Non-rhyming however does not, and I have found that scribing a poem – good or bad - without that sing song quality is just about downright impossible. Today’s poem is an attempt at that impossible...

'This can't

be all there is', I say,

on days life seems to be

falling backwards in

to the superficial

mundane.

 

I dream, those days,

of simple woods; fields

of wild untouched

berries; of mountains laced

in violet flowers - the kind

that I can fall into

forever 

 

 

 

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Furiously Happy - the List Version

“I’m thinking of making my own list of things that make me furiously happy” a co-worker (and one of my favorite people ever) said over the phone a couple weeks ago. She had taken me up on my advice to read “Furiously Happy” by Jenny Lawson and loved it. I was thrilled; finally I had someone who truly understood just how awesome this book was, someone I could share my delight  and excitement with. Our several impromptu hallway conversations about stuffed raccoons, giraffes, Spoon Theories, and Pegasus’s left us laughing while other peers walked by slightly with slightly perplexed looks on their faces. The book inspired her idea to create a ‘Furiously Happy’ list; I though it was brilliant plan, decided I need one of my own and immediately set off to write it.

My list is made up mostly of things I've done/experienced. There are a couple that have not yet crossed my life’s path but I’m  99.9999% certain they would enrich my life in countless happy ways. Then there are a few which are so open ended they could really be applied to anything so you might say I’ve done them but maybe not just as fully as possible. Creating the list was easy, I knew exactly what needed to be there; however, after it was complete I realized that I haven’t really been living it. I mean sure, a really literal person could argue that I do every day by drinking coffee, playing with Faelina and daydreaming that I live at Hogwarts. But doing just a few things every day doesn’t make up for me not trying out any of the others ever. I mentioned in my last Furiously Happy post that I’ve had the past few months I’ve had a really hard time feeling truly happy; perhaps that’s because I haven’t been living life in a way that’s true to myself. So here’s my list. Now it’s up to me to go live it.

 

 

1.       Midnight hikes

2.       Nighttime swims in the ocean, rivers and/or lakes – clothing optional

3.       Coffee

4.       Kittens

5.       Furiously Happy – the book

6.       All things Harry Potter

7.       Challenging dumb social norms

8.       Not caring what others think

9.       Seeing my nephews

10.   Surprises – both giving and receiving them

11.   Pulling an all-nighter just because

12.   Committing anonymous acts of kindness for others

13.   Leaving anonymous secret letters for people to find

14.   Solo vacations

15.   Dressing like a faery, princess, mermaid, gypsy or combination of all four

16.   LIVING like a faery, princess, mermaid, gypsy or combination of all four

17.   Spontaneous Adventures

18.   Searching for magic

19.   Throwing caution to the wind

20.   Giving into the wildness of Mother Nature

21.   Dancing under the full moon

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Poem

 

I was at work deep in admission mundanity (yes I know that was not a word, it is now) when suddenly this poem dropped into my thoughts. It was completely unbidden, I have no idea where it came from. It's dark which I find a bit odd because I've been (surprisingly) light hearted this past week; I have been watching a lot of Game of Thrones though so perhaps that was inspiration enough to my subconscious. Anyways here it is...

Sunlight drips with topaz poison

Shards of fire beneath white snow

No idle threat will be forgiven

No tiny breath can be let go

 

Oh Earth this madness, how did we get here

When did our heaven become hell
I'd sell my soul to know this answer
but Time's great secret it will not tell




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Come Happy, Go Happy

 

In Iceland, people greet each other with “komdu sæll” meaning ‘come happy’ and part ways by saying “vertu sæll” which is ‘go happy’.

I learned this while reading “The Geography of Bliss, One Grump’s Search for the Happiest Places in the World”. In it journalist Eric Weiner chronicles his travels through countries that have been noted for their high levels of happiness (or unhappiness), trying to figure out just what gives their people so much joy, what causes them to feel blue, and how that differs from America. Reading this book has been incredibly delightful and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my visits to Switzerland, Bhutan, and Great Britain to name a few. The country that stole my heart most though was Iceland, that frozen beauty up north.

 Miami based Weiner suffered an understandable shock upon landing there in January (he did have a logical reason for going that time of year), on the other hand I found his descriptions of the hard ice, cold snow and permanent darkness to be perfectly fantastic and exactly the way life should be. Weiner’s time there introduced me to so many wondrous aspects of Icelandic culture (wild connections with nature, an obsession of books, believing in elves) that I began to feel a very strong desire to move there, now (seriously, any ideas on what I could do for a job?). And I just love how the native language plays such an important role in bringing happiness to the people, particularly their versions of hello and goodbye. So while I may not be moving to Iceland (yet) I am going to start adopting the practice of “komdu sæll” and "vertu sæll", as I think doing so will go quite far on my own quest to find happiness.

So until next time vertu sæll, go happy.

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A Letter to My Father

Hi Dad,

Happy Father’s Day. I miss you, a lot. I’m home today, a reality that makes me happier than I could ever possibly express. I get to celebrate with mom, Kairi and Eric, Tori and Tim, Tanner and David. I wish though, we all do, that there were two David William Berg’s here. I’m sure you are in a way, the life behind the air's gentle presence, but it’s not the same.

 I think about you every day. Sometimes I try to imagine the person you'd be were you alive today. I like to dream up the ‘memories’ I would have, of you walking Kairi and Tori down the aisle, the celebration hugs you gave each of us when we graduated from college, the words of wisdom and caution to be safe as Kairi and I set off on cross country road trips in search of our new homes, and the absolute joy in your tear filled eyes as you held your new baby grandsons for the first time. I wish those were real memories that you had been able to experience all of that before having to go.

Other times I remember you through my real memories. The time you instantly left work to rescue your foolish, college daughter who’d locked herself out of the car, twice, in one week. Coming home to Park City after a five week road trip with mom, Kairi and Tori to discover – to our delight- that

you’d built us an awesome swing set. The moment I realized you’d tricked me into truly believing a flat head screwdriver was called a David’s screwdriver, for the first 12 years of my life. Your response when I asked why you did that “I just thought it was fun”. Then there was the April you came to Nenana my sophomore year and took me to Fairbanks for a fun weekend, letting me drive the whole way. When I was six and you let me drive – without any assistance – the golf car during your and grandma’s game. The year I was eleven and we spent your birthday weekend dip-netting (unsuccessfully) in Soldotna. I made you the most ridiculous gift out of random items I’d cobbled together in the trailer, yet you kept it on your dresser for years. The picture I took that weekend, of you with the massive cinnamon roll ‘birthday cake’ is one of my absolute favorites.

There is one more memory; some might not call it a real one but to me it is. It was the March after you died and mom had taken us girls to Big Bend. Within hours upon driving through the park's gate I was finally able to understand why you and mom loved that place so much and with eaach passing hour I became ever more entranced. Throughout that entire week, nights at our campsite, hiking into Boquillas, the evening mom took us to witness the sunset magic of Sierra del Carmen I saw you, standing there with your hands on your hips saying “this is just so cool”. You were so happy to finally be able to share this amazing place with your family.

As I’m sure you’ve seen, these past years haven’t exactly been my proudest. I got myself into a pretty bad situation a couple years back, made some less than stellar decisions. I haven’t always kept the promises I made you on your last night. I am trying though, and when I feel myself really floundering I look back at how you fought to stay with us and gain just a little more strength to push through. I know you would understand though, probably more than most, how hard it can be to continue that mental battle; to you what would matter most is to just keep fighting, which I have and will. I think that at least makes you proud.

Another memory; it was my first year in Nenana and school had just about reached summer. I’d called home and after the normal conversation bits I told you why I had finally stopped crying to come back home the prior fall. It was because you had pointed out that I was always so quick to give up on things and I had to stop doing that or else I would never get anywhere in life. I’d been furious in the moment and didn’t call home for at least two weeks, but I eventually realized you were right. So I changed my attitude and gave Nenana a shot. You told me months later that it was the first time you had cried because of something right you had done as a parent.

I so hope that you left this earth knowing that there were a thousand other moments you had to be proud of. You gave your family so many wonderful gifts, memories that we will be grateful for to the end of our lives. I’ll stop here now, go back to the others; but know that I'm thinking about you, that we all are. And not just today but every day. You are in the hearts, minds and dreams of your entire family always. I love you dad.

Your daughter
KC

Furiously Happy (?)

Last Tuesday I reached over to my stack of library books and grudgingly pulled out “Furiously Happy” by Jenny Lawson. I say grudgingly because I’d just finished a wonderful story about dark faeries, spelled princes, and crazy magic and was not excited about the idea of leaving the realm of magical fiction behind to instead root through a person’s real life story with mental illness. I can honestly say that within one minute of reading I had completely changed my tune.

This book is fantastic. Seriously. It is one of the best, most hilarious, and incredibly entertaining; laugh out loud books I have read in possibly my entire life. I started chuckling on page 1, almost killed myself choking on an apple at page 27, and giggled furiously (yes I’m stealing that word) for close to 15 minutes straight the night after. But interspersed with the humor is Lawson describing her lifelong struggle with depression, anxiety; sleep disorders, etc…in a refreshingly real way. She freely and openly shares emotions and experiences that so many thousands feel the need to hide because our society tells us we should be ashamed of them. 

I have so much respect and admiration for people like Lawson; individuals who buck the idea and expectation to be 'normal' and instead embrace who they are, the good, the bad and the crazy - the fun parts and dark moments both. Social media bombards us daily with images, ideas and 140 character messages of people's perfect, happy lives. We're tricked into believing that life is always amazing for everyone, except us, but that is just a ridiculous lie. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that probably 99.99% of the world's population have at least days, if not weeks or months, and sometimes entire years of unhappiness. But they hold it in, living with a painful belief that only they are failing at that this thing call life. If more of us not only embraced those moments, but were also brave enough to shout them out to the world, there might not be so many people feeling isolated and alone. I haven’t been diagnosed with any of the disorders Lawson mentions in her book but I have had my own mental health battle. I’ve been fairly upfront about that fight but it has been many months since I’ve shared anything of substance though, so here goes…

I would say that at least once day I feel like a failure. I listen to my own Mr. Hyde-like voice telling me I’m a mess at my job, I have no established career, I can’t clean my house properly, I’m a disaster at lawn care, I suck at writing, I watch too much TV, I haven’t baked a dessert for work in a month so I’m totally dropping the ball, I told Steph I’d like to make frozen dinners for her family months ago and have cooked one so I’m a bad friend, I never seem to be able to save money so I’m an irresponsible adult…I could go on for pages. The Dr. Jekyll side of me knows that not all of those things are necessarily true (although the lawn care definitely is) but it’s so easy to disregard that whisper and instead fall in line with the negative yells. I also have that other voice in my head; the one who tells me I’m too fat, that I’ve eaten too much, that I only worked out for an hour – not three – so that’s an entire day wasted. It’s exhausting.  

In truth, I'm not particularly in love with life right now; I haven't been for a few months. That’s not to say I’ve been wrapped inside a constant state of unhappiness; I can easily find contentment while sitting in my little home library, or delving into a craft project, attacking a steep mountain trail, or wandering through the dark shelves of Barnes&Noble for an hour, or two...ok maybe three. Faelina remains my ever shining star and has me laughing daily as observe her zany obsessions and delighted obstinacy in rule breaking (we have daily discussions about the kitchen counters being off limits, I say they are (off limits that is), she disagrees).

Part of my downward emotions are probably due to the fact that, since January, I’ve been back in therapy. There was no major crash that brought that about, finding a therapist was something I should have done as soon as I reached Utah, but I was just so tired of dealing with everything so decided to attempt managing everything on my own. In some ways I did ok, in others I definitely failed; by January though I was started to lean towards bad habits and decisions with frightening frequency so it’s good I started back up when I did. Of course there is a pretty big difference in living a delicate balance with an eating disorder and actively trying to eliminate it. The second part is harder, it sucks, and it means that many days you go to bed feeling miserable.

That isn’t all of it though, there is just something is missing. I have been rifling through my life and mind trying to figure out just what that something is but apparently elusivity (this may not be an actual word but I don’t care, I’m still using it) is it’s middle name because so far I’ve got nothing. It’s a quest I won’t give up on though; happiness is too important to give up on, so I’ll keep searching. I’ll share things as I discover them – good, bad and ugly. I’m also going to start being a little more forthcoming with some of the quirkier, weirder aspects of myself because they bring me joy and delight and a little bit closer to becoming furiously happy.

p.s. If you do anything today, go to the store and buy that book. If you don’t laugh at least once I will refund your money. If you still don't want to spend money go the library, books are free there.

 

 

 

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It Can't Happen Here

This past weekend I read the final words of Sinclair Lewis' 'It Can't Happen Here', a "cautionary

tale" about a new president establishing a dictatorship in order to save the country from an all-consuming crisis. The book was published 1935, yet certain passages have me all but convinced that Lewis discovered the secret to time travel and witnessed the 2016 presidential election. I suffered a whirlwind of emotions throughout it: apprehension, incredulity, resigned amusement, a flutter of fear, and doubting disbelief - Yes, the election played out in the book, could have been the prophecy of last years, but there's no way what happened after could really happen now - could it?'. '

I'd like to think that with the advances in technology and social media today the country's safe, that I'm just experiencing a moment of paranoid fear, but honestly who knows. I freely admit that I trust this current president about as much as I would a President Lord Voldemort (should he ever run, win, and - you know - be real). I despise Trump and am disgusted with the direction he has taken the country. I wouldn't put it past him to go after a dictatorship if he sees an opening to do so, and with the absurd amount of supporters who continue to follow him (a fact that makes me downright ashamed), he just might.

I recommend this book not because it will bring one enjoyment and happiness, but because it makes one truly ponder the importance of the principles this country was built upon. Obviously, I may - ok do - have some very strong, biased opinions about this government. Those who share those same political ideologies would likely have family similar thoughts were they to read this book, and I would love to discuss it with them (this would make for an excellent reading club choice). I'd also be interested though in hearing the opinions and insight of those who do not ascribe to those same beliefs, because as much as I try to understand where they're coming from I just can't. But maybe by continuing to talk differences through (and I will concede that the harshness dialogue in my previous paragraph is perhaps not the most conducive to such discussions) we can someday breach the ever expanding differences between us and really work together to improve this country. I hope so, because if not, then someday, we might wake up to find that it did happen here.

The Bear and The Nightingale

Last night, I closed the cover of the beautifully, enchanting book The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden. It was a tale that dove back into the olden days of Russia; and was full of the magic that floated softly through the times’ frozen forests and flared above the warm fires in those ancient homes.

It is the story of Vasilisa,  a young girl who lives with her family weeks away from any major city. For decades, her small village has lived a peaceful existence inside the rules of the church, all the while never forgetting the spirits, rituals, and customs of their ancestors. But as Vasilisa grows, a devout stepmother and young priest, challenge the balance of that life, and threaten the future of them all. Vasilisa realizes that she must break with the will of those surrounding her and trust in her own strength, if she is to save her world and the people she loves most.

Certain aspects of it reminded me unmistakably of Eowyn Ivey’s The Snow Child, one of my most beloved, favorite books. Both stories existed in an age now forever gone, both were worlds of frozen snow lit beauty, and both brought to life a young girl full of fierce fire and magic. Just as with The Snow Child, I’d hoped this book would never end.

If your reading preferences center around books firmly set in the realities of daily life then this probably isn’t the tale for you. If however, you love to get lost inside a story that makes you believe true magic is possible, seek out a copy as soon as possible, and enjoy.  

 

 

 

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Sparklets and Florilegia

For the past six months or so, I have been an eager listener of the podcast 'Harry Potter and the Sacred Text'. Each new show focuses on a specific chapter and analyzes what takes place through the lens of a pre-determined theme (i.e. mercy, fear, thankfulness, regret etc...). The two hosts also apply a Spiritual Practice to certain sections of that chapter for deeper analysis. For those of you who have loved the Harry Potter books I highly recommend listening; and for those of you who haven't read the books, stop reading this immediately and go get them!

One of the Spiritual Practices is - Florilegia. An edited definition from their website is "a compilation of excerpts from other writings". In the podcast, the two hosts will pick the sentences or phrases that jumped out and spoke to them in that particular chapter; they then string them together to see what new meaning(s) they are able to discover. They call the lines they've chosen 'sparklets'.

I love this idea. As far back as I can remember, I've written down quotes from books, songs, movies...anything that struck me as profound, or beautiful, or something I could completely relate to. I've occasionally even shared those beloved favorites on this blog. So I decided to practice Floriglegia myself. However, instead of honing in on just one book or chapter, I've chosen words from any book, song, poem, thought, conversation, etc....that 'sparkled' in my mind. I began this quest last Sunday and finished Saturday night. Here are all my sparklets in the order they came to me.


What you really want at the end is a surprising inevitability. What you really want is the characters to be changed at the end. As long as hate dwells in the human heart, real peace is impossible. You will become your favorite color. Complacency is lethal. It is the wrong time to be thinking of you; it's the wrong place to be cheating on you. What makes city life meaningful is what you hide. What our heart intends and what our words intend. Was I born wild, have I been asleep this whole damn time. Life, too, slipped by in much the same way, speeding up as it ran along the tracks laid out by time and fortune. It's not a mistake it's just a layer. How difficult it was to tell the truth and be sincere at the same time. All behavioral has a communication. Your body keeps score of all that happened. Just be free. Little by little that fiery glow, the light to take ones breath, had faded. He had seen when her soul lit her face like firelight. The story's always talking, you just gotta listen.


I'm still working on unearthing a deep meaning from them, but I did instantly spot an underlying theme running through most of my sparklets (with a few outliers thrown in). I'll tie what I see into another post that I'm working on, but in the meantime I'm open to others interpretations. I know the same thing is interpreted differently by different people, and sometimes people on the outside of a story are able to see things those on the inside can't. So anyone, everyone, out there - thoughts, ideas...

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Hi Mom

Hi Mom,

Happy Mother’s Day! I wish I could be there to celebrate you in person, but I hope at least that you are enjoying a day of peace and light. I hope you had a fabulous breakfast, partook in lots of flower shopping, and got to hold each of your grandsons. I hope that you feel loved and special, because you are.

 

Not long ago, I was given a writing challenge which asked me to share five blessings in my life. I tried to forgo the obvious (family, friends, Faelina, etc.…) and pick a few of the slightly more subtle gifts instead. The first thing I thought of was “My mother’s wild spirit”. I wrote that you were brave and had sought to a life full of adventure, refusing to live by any other’s wishes.

 

I’m sure that marriage and motherhood calmed you somewhat, but I think your wild essence remained. Growing up you shared that sprit with us girls, through mushing and road trips and a refusal to keep your beliefs and opinions quiet. Without those lessons I might not have had the courage to seek out my own dreams, realize my own freedom.

 

I hope that one day I will be able to celebrate Mother’s Day with you in person again. Until then though never forget you were wild once, don’t let them tame you.

 

I love you forever,

KC

Dreams of Far Off Places

I've lived a rather light hearted mood today, partly as I keep getting lost in daydreams about far off lands. A writing challenge I did not too long ago, asked me to list the 5 places I wanted most wanted to visit. The answers came quickly, though of course I couldn't just pick places firmly here on earth, my imagination just wouldn't allow for it. So I have a list for unreality too!

Reality

1.) Ireland - green, magical, ancient

2.) Iceland - Wild. A place where nature always rules

3.) Antarctica - cold, dry, full of winter, empty

4.) Venice - A city without streets, a vibrant taste of olden times

5.) Greece - is the water truly that blue? are the buildings really such a perfect white?

 

Dreamland

 

 

1.) Hogwarts - I think that this is my favorite of all places that will ever, could ever exist
2.) Waterfall City - in Dinotopia, this place just sounds too beautiful to pass up!
3.) Rivendell - All of Middle Earth really, but Rivendell seems the most lovely
4.) The 9 Kingdoms - I live there, happily, forever after
5.) Belle's Library - my dream home!

Those are my places, what would yours be?

~~~

Wild Calls

Driving home from work just now, I was working through some serious thoughts. This was the only way to release them.

Stagnation forever drowns the soul

the breath of wild breaks it free

A lone wolf cries to the moon

beckoning Winters' child.

It's up to you to answer that call.

Ignore it and your heart will bleed.

~~~~





Untittled

A few days ago, a good friend experienced a loss. It was not only sudden but belief-defying, and the magnitude of it left them, momentarily at least, shaken. I wrote this poem that afternoon.

We live in a world where Pain, it breathes

  hotter than any dragon's fire

and then with every step in life

  Jealousy’s wall climbs, just a little bit higher

 

Confusion, Loss, clawing Sadness

  drowns hearts with a fear that’s ocean deep

Is it any wonder that in this flawless madness,

  We hunt for magic in our dreams



~~~~



 

Life is Like a Bubble

Another poem today. No real story behind it, just the direction of my mind today...

Life is like a bubble of exquisite magic,

promising infinite wonder

yet is delicate, fragile.

Starting off with joy, with flight

it dares to be bold

For some that lasts forever, for others

gravity takes hold.

 

 

 

~~~~

 

 

 

 

Poem

One day back in September 2011, I was in Maine. It was late afternoon and I'd gone out running along the long two lane road my friends (and at that time I) were living on. The street glowed with fallen red, orange and golden leaves; thousands more danced along the branches of the tall trees that guarded the street; a glorious mixture of vibrant life and color. I'd taken my iPod along, counting on the music to help inspire my legs to keep moving. At one point they needed a rest; I slowed my pace and softly got lost in the dizzying magic of color. Breathing in crisp clean air, I let the words of a song carry my mind to the world of faeries. I turned my head then to gaze up at a particularly firery patch of color, and a world with the most incredible magic suddenly woke in my mind...

That night, and in the years since, I have tried to delve deeper into the details of that world's story. So far my efforts have not found success, this week though they did discover the words of this poem. I'll keep working on the story but until then...

Trees of silver branches

leaves that glow lazuli blue,

A web of lost enchantments

all beneath the frozen moon

The sun has lost all wonder

 the air a liquid poison stone,

Every hope descends to madness

  escape through time forever gone

It's a world of desolation

 rage, fear, tiers of twisted fun,

No dream can stave this desperation 

until the final battle's done 

~~~~

 

'Normal'

The first week back from Alaska is never fun. Thankfully, this time around I had a fairly solid ‘Stay as Busy as Possible’ plan, which made the whole experience somewhat less awful than times past. While writing was part of that plan I produced nothing that could be even remotely considered good. Still, I have a strong desire to do better with this blog, so I present instead a small bit from earlier year. It was Day 9 of my January 30 Day Writing Challenge, the quest “Some Words of Wisdom That Speak to You”…

 

 

“Do not expect your life to return to normal. That is not what you had in mind when you entered on this odyssey. Normal is a conduct that has no frame of reference in the realities for which you are preparing.”

I do not know who, where or when those words were first uttered, or written. I googled them once but found nothing. I first saw them back in 2010, printed on a postcard painting that'd been taped to the visor of a Subaru that belonged to one of my housesitting clients. Over the next year I housesat for those clients several times and always would use their car to take the dogs hiking twice a day. In all the times I climbed into the driver seat of that car, never once did those words fail to wow me. Their impact and meaning  carved a deep imprint on my soul and left an echo that has followed me through years into each new journey, trial and fearful change. Their message has been a guide, a soft reminder of my deepest dreams, and a balm in moments that chance left me trembling. Their message was also a catalyst, driving me to make the kind of choices that would uproot me from my ‘normal’. They are the whisper behind so the few experiences where I have done something terrifying and, in so doing,  really truly lived. 

I may never learn the original source of these words but I am grateful, deeply, that the universe saw fit to place them in my path, for my life is forever infinitely richer because of them.  

 

Ten Spots of Happiness

Today's post (for time purposes) will be short and sweet. I mentioned a couple weeks ago that I had partaken in a 30 Day Writing Challenge and Day 1 was to "Write a List of 10 Things That Make You Happy". Well here it is...

                       1) Faelina and her faerie madness

                       2)Early morning coffee in darkness, by dark I mean both the coffee and night sky

                       3) Opening a new book, so much promise is held in that moment

                       4) The satisfaction and relief that comes at the end of a long hike

                       5) The perfect clearness of the moon in winters night

                       6) Sparkles (or sprinkles!)

                       7) Spontaneous all nighters

                       8) Alaska - it's existence, it's beauty, it's soul

                       9) Tanner and David - forever

                      10) The word 'Always' and all the magic that comes with it.

 

 

 

Happy Sunday evening to all of you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~

 

 

 

 

Alice

It was many months ago the opening words of this poem first unfolded themselves in my mind. I was hiking and happened upon a spot that seemed as perfectly suited for a Mad Tea Party as it was a quiet place for a young girl to rest her head and dream. I was in a rather dark state of mind at the time. It was right after my July trip home and I was missing Alaska with an almost desperate madness. I took hold of that feeling and wove it into this poem, bolstering it with visions I'd gained after reading the truly terrifying 'Alice'; a novel by Christina Henry. The story is a masterful retelling of Lewis Carroll's tale, but definitely not one meant for a child's ears. I will never again think of the character of Walrus without shuddering in horror.

By the time my deep sadness passed on I'd become too attached to these words to abandon them. The poem's seen many revisions and likely will receive more in the future. For now though I feel the need to move on, and so have decided to share.

I sit at the spot Alice once fell,

from deepest dreams into darkest hell.

A place simple tears transformed to ocean screams,

and death-vined roses bowed to the Mad Queen.

 

Trembling with terror, Alice twisted and fled,

but night's velvet wings soon entangled each step

Walrus inched closer, tusks dripping with wine

Rabbit's red grin whispered slowly "It's Time"

 

I sit at the spot where once Alice dreamed,
inside a world of the darkest means.
She would have escaped but for that skeleton grin,
which then disappeared slowly, never seen again.

~~~~



 

Back with Books

Epic failure. I'd say that's a pretty apt description of my effort to keep up this blog the past few months. I won’t even try to go into reasons why. There are reasons, but excuses all of them, and all ones I’ve used countless times before. I will only say now that I vow to do better and hopefully this time will follow through. Lack of blog posts aside, I can happily report that I have not let any/all writing fall by the wayside. In fact, these last two months in particular I have found a renewed focus to write and have done so most every day. It’s all been journal writing, sometimes on the events of a day, others on an issue I’m struggling with. I’ve also been working on a 30 Day Writing Challenge, although I’ll openly admit it’s taken me longer than 30 days. I might end up sharing some Challenge outcomes in future posts. There has also been a bit of change/newness that I’ll update this blog world on soon…ish. Today though I’m easing back in with something short, sweet and – for me – me fairly easy: books.

Since the start of a new year I’ve read a great many books. Some I’ve found deeply moving and/or delightfully enjoyable. This list here is a sample of my favorites and if you’ve not read them I highly hope you will.

East of Eden (John Steinbeck) – This book was placed (literally) into my hands by one of the teachers at Benchmark and for that I owe him great thanks. Thoughtful, profound this epic moves softly through decades, winding in and out of hopeful dreams and sad truths, much like the slow moving river that runs through the Salinas Valley. The splendor of the writing pulled me inside the lives of each character effortlessly, such that by books the end I felt that I had gained a dozen close personal friends. This is one that I will look at with fondness for many years to come.

 

 

 

Fahrenheit 451(Ray Bradbury) – This is the first of the many dystopian books I have on this year’s reading list (I’m halfway through 1984 now). It is also the first time I’ve been introduced to the works of Ray Bradbury (which I now know is a negative on my part). It is a brilliantly written promise of how bad things will become if society insists on sitting idly by in ignorance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Scarlet Pimpernel (Baroness Emma Magdalena Rosalia Maria Josefa Barbara Orczy) – While the scenes of this quiet little classic take place among some truly horrific facts of the 1792 French Revolution, I quite enjoyed this book. There was lightness to the writing, an impossibility of the story, which allows the reader a separate themselves from the harsh reality of history. At least that was my perception; perhaps though it's just my affinity for the macabre speaking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Poet of Loch Ness (Brian Jay Corrigan) – Beautiful story, breathtaking writing. Entirely entranced throughout this too short book , I was left dreaming for the wilds of Scotland long after I closed it's cover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith) – This book technically shouldn’t be on this list since I read it last November. However, it has left such an impact on my heart and spirit that I feel bound to spread its greatness to as many people as I possibly can. This isn’t a happy book; in fact it’s often quite sad or disheartening. But it is a book that from its first page made me question how the hell I’d managed to live the first 29 years of my life without it. Nothing I write could possibly capture how magnificent it is, bely how richly Smith has written each and every moment, or accurately describe the feeling one gets as they connect with the characters in a way that is not often felt with their closest friends, much less characters in a book. It will forever be one of the favorite books of my life. Read it.