Thursday, October 20, 2016

What were you doing in 2006?

What were you doing in 2006?  In the afternoon of Thursday Oct. 20, 2006? Do you remember? I do. Distinctly and in detail. After finding a lump under my arm that morning, I was hearing from my local physician, for the very first time . . . “I think you have cancer.” Life Before Cancer ended on Oct. 20, 2006

On Friday Oct. 21, 2006, the biopsied lump was whisked away to a lab for testing leaving me to wait till Monday, Oct. 24, 2006 when I heard, “ Stage 4. Small Lymphocytic Lymphoma / Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia.( SLL/CLL )  Stage 4!! Eleven days later, on Nov. 6, I began a two and half year regime of chemotherapy. I was told with the blood markers I had, that 5 -7 years was a good prognosis of my life. This cancer is dogged and persistent. It is ‘treatable but not curable’ . . . says the experts.  Every day of my life, I choose life, joy and hope. relentlessHOPE -that is my mantra. Hope that is more dogged, more persistent and more tenacious then CLL/SLL. I have now been in remission since 2007 . . .  many wonderful, amazing, memorable experiences since that day in 2006 . . . as a then 43 year-old woman, I still had three teenagers at home. So much of life ahead.  Life now is A.C. After Cancer. . . regular scans convince me cancer is not yet within my body. Life beckons and I answer…yes. Whatever is life’s question…my answer is yes. 

Saturday, March 19, 2016

IF this were page 1 of Chapter 1 of a book - would you read any further? . . . . . . . . . "The car veered, shimmied the curve, shattered a stash of hidden beer bottles and tore through the neglected weeds. Gravel flew out from the wheels and Giselle screamed. A scream so visceral, it sliced through the growing darkness and would have pierced a listener’s ears. Giselle was alone. No one to hear. No one to warn. No one to comfort. Her black Carrera accelerated as her foot fell heavily. Her tears, her screams, her fears accelerated simultaneously.
The salty tears clouded her vision and the soft shoulder threatened to send the car into a tailspin to match her out of control emotions. How could she process the news? The horrible news. Tragedy etched her life and she uttered a constant stream of guttural screams of grief.
She would have stopped. Normally, she would never have gone forward. Giselle never saw him. Never knew what hit the Porsche. Absolutely, never saw the bearded father of four hiking alongside the road. His minivan stood overheated fifty feet behind. Only days later, when the uniformed policewoman crisscrossed the parking lot to accost her, would she learn of her new status. Wanted. Wanted for manslaughter. Giselle wondered if anyone would care. . . if anyone would notice her absence.
One death in a week was adequate, thought Giselle yet two murders in a week was too much for her mind to comprehend. She gripped the black pen as the desk officer droned about police procedures. Giselle noticed for the first time, her blood tinged shirt, the jagged cut over a bruised, swollen knee and her hands shook as she handed the officer the pen. She turned on one foot, careful to protect her knee, and heard a woman’s voice echoing jarring screams of distress. “Giselle! Giselle! Why? Why did you kill our baby? Jonathan! Jonathan is dead. Dead. Because of you.“
Giselle looked blankly at the crying woman in a blue cotton boat shirt, her mind searching madly for a strain of recognition. A memory never surfaced. She continued to stare. Willing her eyes to meet the raging mad woman, now restrained by two police officers, Giselle registered no emotion. No tears. No voice. No noises escaped her throat. Her only motion was to reach into her back jean pocket, stealthily slip out a silver razor blade and in one cat-like movement, slice through her own stone white flesh. The blade flowed crimson as her neck pulsated. The slashed skin parted as a virginal sacrifice and her clean hands dripped with her blood.
Registering another voice, another scream, another cry of despair, Giselle ear’s told her mind that these screams now belonged to her. Giselle saw the blue boat shirt woman jump over a metal desk chair, throw an officer aside and as she grabbed Giselle, she kissed her check, screaming. The women fell; the hard cold office floor embraced them as her eyes flowed fresh tears.
Giselle fainted, her head and chest, obscured by blood and the strange woman sat to the side, head down, muttering, “ why, Giselle, why?” as the paramedics walked around the blood stains. "

. . . whispers in my ear: choose joy. be kind. compromise. stand strong. receive help. offer forgiveness. screams within: stay angry. go first. demand. look down. go away. refuse relationship. 

TODAY: may i, as i listen with my heart centered on the way of peace find the path that leads me into tranquility and ease. 

may i, as i refute turmoil and confusion, release tension and conflict. 

may i, as i allow grace to manifest in my life - turn to you and share with you that which heals me. 

may you as well begin a journey into your healing. 

O', that we both may share. O' may whispers in ears transform screams into peace.
The words swirling in my mind as the sun arches over the palm trees, as the clouds dance through the horizon and the birds play my melody: relax, beloveds. 

nothing is going to happen today to you that cannot be deciphered, eventually. 

tragedy may befall...i know.
sadness may ebb. . . i understand. 
confusion may settle...i've been there. 
yet. yet. yet. walk forward. breath in. breath out. 

settle for simple. strive for calm. aim for easy. 

take those three hard steps and fall back two. get up and take another step. or two. and reach out for peace. peace. 

peace: that small whisper in the back of your heart, that ever so tender urging in the struggle to face one more day. one more hour. one more minute. 

i know it can be rough...i also know when you, when i - relax, breath and move. 

ever so slowly, i ( you ) warner a bit more strength that makes the tomorrow's easier than the today's. relax beloveds....let your breathing in and breathing out bring you comfort and courage. . . let your steps today, small though they might possibly be, be steady. 

relax, beloveds, you are not alone. i too am with you in this journey. . . and together when we as people walk forward, so walk we all.

breathe beloveds, breathe.
. . . .no one deserves to be rejected, verbally harassed, or neglected. 

today may i embrace the woman in my mirror. 

may i care for myself as i would care for you. 

may i speak encouragement, support and love to her. 
today i silence the harsh self criticism, the sabotage of self doubt and the viciousness of critique. 

today, that woman in the mirror?

 i love her and will actively let her know she is beloved!!

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Cry of the Earth

Staring abyss. Dimmed vision. Dull. 
I sat.
Watched the sun peek. 
Peeking out amidst high bellows of brilliantly white strewn clouds across blue heavens. 
Salty foamy water waves crashed at my feet. 
Ears heard a cry. A whine. A cry in the winds. Piercing my conscience, hauntingly beautiful. 
My soul stopped. The cry of the earth. The cry of the earth cried for me. 
Cried my name. 

The spirit of the earth manifested, yet invisible, I saw her. Welcoming and beckoning me, I hesitated.

With permission, she came to me. 
Hands out stretched. She stood me. Up I gazed deeply into her peace.
Mute, I stand and she spoke. 
Spoke. A ballad of all times, cascaded, permeated my being. 
Overwhelmed with her total acceptance, the earth stood before me.
Words halt. Silence flows. Heartbreak caverns inside me yet no sound emerges. 

"By your side, I long to take you into my body. 
Let me consume you. Get lost within me. Search my being and touch me.
Please. I beg you. 
Morph into me.

Eliminate the rawness. Take away your pain. 
Give you freedom. Give you rest.

I look. Your eyes hide. 
Masked by control, I see tears drip, drop, drip, drop in your soul. 
Your cheeks: so high, so dry and pretty, shine unscathed.
Your body sits composed and steady.
Your blood mingles with calm.
Your heart - a stoic beast. 
The mask of "I'm okay" reinforced with each breath.

You cannot be ok. You lie. You are not okay. "

I hear my voice, a strained croak. A sliver of me.
A glimmer of nothingness revealed, "I am not okay." 

My stilled questions echoed, unspoken, burned.
Their burning stench lined my spirit.

“How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with brokenness? 
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with pain?
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with abuse?
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with disease?
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with neglect?
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with apathy?
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with rejection?
How can one fragile fleshly human be okay with despair?



She heard the burning cries. She heard. The burning in my spirit. She heard. 

She is not afraid of my burn. She is not afraid of me. 
Engulfing the stench of my spirit she entered me.
Extinguishing the burn, Earth merged within me, penetrating.

"Come closer to me and be.
Come closer to me and dissolve.
Come closer and lift the virgin mask off.
Come closer and expose your truth behind the walls of self-protection. 

I am safe. I am gentle. Tender and soft, fall into my arms of love.
I will hold you while you break. Caress you. Protect you. 
Pour life and liberty over your raw, bleeding, pus filled emotions. 
Balmy oil of peace trickles in....while putrid vomit fear oozes out. 
Calming release flows into you as you come into me. 
Lay down your sweet head. Rest. Refresh. Renew.” 

I? I feel: faint faint faint stirrings. Scabs of protection, red tinged coverings:
a hidden healing begins. 

“Stay within me and heal. Stay within me...Within me heal and live. 
Stay within me and be not alone. I am here. I am here... for you.
I am with you. I am you. You are me.
Every moment. Every breath. Every beat. Every drop.
Every moment. Every breath. Every beat. Every drop.
We are not fully healed but we are on your way
We are not okay with your pain. 
We are not as broken as once we were. 
We are more than your brokenness. 
We are more than your pain.

We are.
We are finding the answers as we journey. 
We are bound by respect. 
We are tied by grace.
We are in love.
We are.

We are together. 
We are one. 
We are. 

We. "


Monday, June 15, 2015

Poodle chicks, Berkshire pigs, Nigerian goats and Pionus Parrots! Oh my!

I NEED: 10+ acres of land with a large fishable stock tank or on a fishable river or  lake...of course, with either gulf access via a canal or be within 5-7 miles of a beach.  

Reason: I need a FARM! I NEED!  Clutch of poodle chicks, drove of Berkshire pigs, herd of Nigerian goats,  American Paint Horses!!  I CAN DREAM!! A greens garden! A flower garden! Oh, a Harlequin great dane! And a Pionus Parrot! And a bit of room for bee hives and the occasional rescue creature.

House, cabins and outbuildings. A retail shop with creative works for sale as well as unique and organic pet supplies/food/accessories.

Pool with covered Florida lanai. Dreaming . . . dreaming. . . dreaming.

While I dream, I encourage you today- stop. Cease rushing around.For twenty minutes- close your eyes and dream. What would you have if you knew you could not fail? What is covered up in your busyness? What is in your heart of hearts? Your hopes? Your desires?

Life is so short. Dreams need to be birthed. Dreams are given for a reason.
Dream on.....and let your actions today BEGIN. BEGIN to prepare you to receive the reality your dreams.

relentlessHOPE Farm shall be a reality one day.

A place where folks can gather to refresh their spirits and soul. A gentle, kind, and tender place where adults with special needs can work/visit/belong. A place where those living with cancer can retreat/renew/be. A location for artists who need to recover/rediscover/recreate their own zest for creativity. A meditative/spiritual place where respect oozes, love permeates and life buzzes.

The hub? An event center for relentlessHOPE LIVE events to occur.

That's my dream . . . What is your dream?