For Good

(Elphaba):
I'm limited
Just look at me - I'm limited
And just look at you
You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda
So now it's up to you
For both of us - now it's up to you...

(Glinda):
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

(Elphaba):
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you

(Glinda):
Because I knew you

(Both):
I have been changed for good

(Elphaba):
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for

(Glinda):
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share

(Both):
And none of it seems to matter anymore

(Glinda):
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

(Elphaba):
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood

(Both):
Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

(Glinda):
And because I knew you...

(Elphaba):
Because I knew you...

(Both):
Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good...

Kristin Chenoweth - For Good from Wicked

A Day I Will Remember Forever

Not because for the first time ever in the history of the United States an African American man was elected president....

No......... I will remember this day as the day I first heard my daughter call another woman Mom. A woman who hasn't EVEN known my children for a whole year. Does the title Mom MEAN something anymore? Doesn't that title have to be EARNED? I am sad, but even more MAD at the adults that they would teach/support/encourage/allow my children to be so cavalier with this honor. As if it means little or nothing for one to have such a title. As if respecting your Mother and Father above others is not necessary, that they are easily replaced. And maybe I am being a little dramatic here after all it is just a word. But in my heart of hearts it should mean more than that. And I am dissapointed that I have not taught my children the sacred meaning of that word.

To pretend I didn't see this coming would just be naive. But I can say I must have done a really good job of fooling myself into believing it wouldn't happen - because when it did hear it I cannot describe how very much it hurt. Like being hit by a car - no matter how many times I looked before I crossed the street - this one seemly came out of nowhere. Yet in hindsight I know I wasn't looking carefully enough. Wishing that I would be lucky enough to avoid this.

Lately I have struggled to tread water in the swelling river of "the teenage years" - fighting the current of teenage angst - and now I am also feeling the weight of a new step mom for my children.

For as long as I can remember all I ever wanted to be was a Mom. I didn't have career aspirations like the rest of the kids I knew, the only thing I knew for sure was that when I grew up I wanted kids - and more specifically I hoped for a daughter.

Lucky, lucky me.... not only did I get two kids, one of each: a daughter and a son, I am incredibly blessed to have healthy, beautiful, smart children who are growing to make me more proud everyday. And now as I realize just how honored I am to have the title of Mom - I also have to realize that with that title comes some amazingly hard responsibilities. For as selfish as I would like to be about this, I know as their Mom it is my duty to do what is best for them. As much as I would like to be such a giood Mom and have such a solid relationship with my kids that they would never ever consider calling someone selse Mom, as much as I would like to believe that I am irreplaceable - the truth is I cannot make them feel guilty for feeling how they feel. I cannot be mad or insist that I am their only Mom. I must let go and let them decide in their hearts what Mom means to them and accept that sharing that title with another woman is truly their decision - not mine.

God gave me these children because I had lots to learn. I have taken for granted my role and my relationship with my children - assuming it was a given that I am their Mom - and that I alone would have that. When in truth the hardest part about being a Mom is knowing when to let go and let your kids who they are going to be. And that includes allowing them to have whatever relationships they will have in this life with who they will.

Doesn't change that it hurts all the same......................

You're Fired

Once upon a time I made friends by default, by lack of any other choice you got the job. And I kept friends like the government keeps workers: continued to pay you until you either quit or retired, but I never fired you. Lots of people quit, some retired. And those that stuck around just kept collecting - whether they did their job well or not.

I don't like it that you are angry with me about this, because it is hard for me to accept that someone might not like me. But today I have come to understand that deep down inside.... you hating me over this is the reason why I can no longer respect you enough to call you my friend.

You didn't live up to the requirements of the job. Sorry but YOU'RE FIRED.

Wicked

"Was it an accident I saw that? He wondered...... Or is it just that the world unwraps itself to you, again and again, as soon as you are ready to see it anew?"

Wicked, Gregory Maguire

Letting Go

I came across this in the most unlikely place but it was exactly what I needed to hear.

LETTING GO TAKES LOVE

To let go does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.
To let go is not to enable,
but allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means
the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.
To let go is not to care for,
but to care about.
To let go is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their destinies.
To let go is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.
To let go is not to criticize or regulate anybody,
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.

To let go is to fear less and love more

Cloudy

It is gray and cloudy today for the first time in a very long time. It is oddly comforting to me, the dark brooding sky that rumbles occasionally letting go and drops spill from above. It seems to mirror the mood I have harbored all summer long. Despite the blue skies and sunshine my petulant mood just seems to cloud everything to a dull overcast finish.

I have been so naive - What I know now is happiness is NOT ALWAYS simply a choice - or at least there are circumstance where choosing happiness is just not as simple as it is stated. Sometimes choosing happiness is as difficult as fighting against a current dragging you the other way. Sometimes it is just too much. Too much for one heart to hold. And I see why people give up, become still and stop fighting.

Too much loss, too much to bear, that I wonder how I can continue like this. Yet everyday I do, somehow, manage to get up and put one foot in front of the other. Going through the motions, but really just sleepwalking through life. I even manage to sometimes distract myself just long enough to enjoy the moments, but there lurking in the background is the pull tugging me back, reminding me that this year summer just didn't hold the same joy it normally does.

I don't know that it has ever been this bad. I don't know if my compulsion to run has EVER been this strong. Do you ever just wish for a do over? I just want to start all over. Like OK I see how much I've fucked this up can I just select to restart the game? I know it isn't right to throw the baby out with the bath water, but that is exactly what feels so attractive. Just to walk away from everything.

Time heals all wounds? I'm not so sure, I think time tends to allow our minds to forget. And forget we do until the next time.

Waking up

"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me......

....Whatever it was that had happened.... it had woken me up."

New Moon ~ Stephenie Meyer

Eventually Everyone Leaves

It seemed so normal sitting in the shade sipping iced tea. I largely just enjoyed the time in the shade on a perfect summer day. For a brief moment I allowed my mind to process how right this all seemed and agreed it felt good not to be so distant and brooding. To allow her in. It didn't really occur to me to remember all of the times she's hurt me and let me down. It's funny, just like anything that is painful, in order to protect ourself from it we forget just how much it hurts.

Of course if I let myself, I could have done what I normally do and just closed down. Kept her at a distance and not let her in. Protecting my heart from the next time she leaves. But the truth is whether I kept myself closed or not, it hurts all the same when she disappears. And she did. Less than a week later, one day, life was just too much and she did what she always does which is to shut off the outside world until she deemed it safe for her again. And there I was left to take care of canceling our plans and rearranging life - left to wait it out until the storm in her world passed.

I am struggling with this lately as I have also just watched two of my very best friends both leave, and a third teetering on the brink of going away. Most of this is geographical, but also emotionally I've had to say good bye for reasons beyond just a change in their physical location.

This got me thinking about a lot of the relationships I have had in my life over the years: they have all ended. I can't think of one relationship that I have maintained over the course of my life. At one point or another, sometimes for good reasons, and sometimes it has been just circumstantial, but they have all gone away. And unlike my Mother who pops back in after weeks on no contact, just as if nothing is or has been wrong, people who go away, tend to stay away.

It has not gone unnoticed by me that there is something here that I must need to learn. Beyond why it seems I can't maintain lifetime relationships, and that like shoes they just seem to wear out or go out of fashion and get replaced. No, more like how to not be like my Mother and go away when life is hard. How to gracefully deal with difficulties without shutting out the world. But when you learn to be scared that eventually everyone leaves... how do you trust and not hold everyone at arms length?

Good-Bye

I keep trying to think of a good reason to do anything other than what was requested. As if somehow I could choose to have this all be different. The truth is the time for making another choice was long ago and I'm so sorry..... I leapt in with reckless abandon one too many times, having too much trust in what is meant to be will be, and now the consequence is just what it is. I'm not sorry I made the choices I made, just sorry that the consequences are what they are. It is sad, but I believe it is right to just let go. I will miss you but I'm not sure my selfish desire to keep you as my friend supersedes his wish to have me just go away.

I wish it were different in so many ways....

Healing

I got out a saucepan to heat water for tea - I hadn't found the kettle yet; I suppose it was in one of the few kitchen boxes I had yet to empty. I'd drink a mug of Sleepytime, and then, when I was sure I could no longer keep my eyes open, I'd go upstairs to lie down. In the morning, I could cross off another day. I put my hands to my lower back, stretched, allowed myself an oh God. "Healing hurts," someone at John's service had told me. "But hurting heals."

-excerpt from The Year of Pleasure by Elizabeth Berg

Are You Happy?

If only I could ask you this and if you would give me a straight answer.

Miles to Go....

Sometimes I stand back and consider all that lay before me. I consider how far I've come, who I am and all that I have accomplished. But the truth is I have miles to go....

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
by:Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

.... and stopping here and enjoying the view would be nice. But I do indeed have promises to keep and miles to go......

A Beautiful Disaster

Do you ever wonder why you keep banging your head against the same wall, over and over again?

Why when we are doing something we know is just plain stupid, we just can't bring ourselves to stop? Why? After all, the outcome stays the same right? Bang, ow, bang, ow. Is it the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it will somehow be different? That the outcome will magically change and that it will all work out in the end?

Or are we just a glutton for punishment? Is enough ever really enough?

For some people I think the level of tolerance for this is not high. They will stop the banging because it hurts too much. Hit it once and lesson learned. But for some of us, it isn't the pain of continuing that causes us to change....

maybe it's because it just feels so good when we stop.....

Boundries

The truth is life is messy and complicated. Sometimes we cross the line. We make mistakes. We step on each other's toes. We let people in and sometimes we hurt and we get hurt. And we think, if only we had better boundaries.

The thing about boundaries is we create them in an effort to protect ourselves, but mostly, they just serve to isolate us. We hold ourselves apart, at a distance, never being completely open and honest with those around us, because it is a risk. But if we never let anyone in, as safe as that feels, we never have the benefit of someone knowing us. We never benefit from trusting someone with our secrets. We don't allow ourselves the opportunity to be understood. Yes, intimacy is difficult. Because when we do let others in, inevitably, they let us down, they misunderstand and even on occasion they disappoint us. But to never let anyone in, well, then we would be missing out on one of the true gifts in life: relationships. Deep, meaningful relationships.

Boundaries, some at least, can serve a purpose. After all, we should not let everyone in all the time, that would just be plain foolish. But carefully crafted they must be for we would not want to build fences that keep everyone out. There are no absolutes. Life cannot be clean and tidy all the time. And the minute you start believing you are immune from the mess, that is when you will be given just the lesson to learn: Life is messy.

After Awhile

Beautifully written and expressed by Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul

You learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.

You begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises

You begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of woman,
not the grief of a child

You learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth

And you learn

You learn
with every goodbye, you learn...

On Writing and Having Faith

Elizabeth Gillbert once wrote: "I never promised the universe that I would write brilliantly; I only promised the universe that I would write."

For me, writing requires Faith. And persistence. But mostly Faith. And also some discipline. But largely Faith. OK, so it takes lots of things, but first, for me, it is always Faith...that whole believing in the unknown. Since I rarely know where I want to end up it is like walking towards something without proof that it exists. Trusting in what you cannot see. Creating the sidewalk under your feet as you go.

Frankly, Faith is something I have never been good at. Faith in others, Faith in the world, but mostly Faith in myself has been the hardest. Which, for me, translates into an inability to write consistently with confidence. I question myself: "Do I even know what I want to say? Is it really something worth saying? Is my writing good? Why bother, its all been said by someone else. Don't write something unless you can write it well. Why do I even do this?" Or this can simply be translated to: "You are just not good enough." I give up and push it aside having a complete lack of motivation to write anything, when I can't find faith. The irony is it is probably then that I need to write the most. If I can just figure out how to let go of the perfectionist enough, I might be able to get to it. You know move through it to get to it? Yeah, baby! Faith is just the beginning. The proverbial tip of the iceberg. Move through doubt, (which is small compared to what lies below), to get to that little inner voice and allow it to sing for all its worth.

Faith is believing, beyond all the uncertainty, that there will be something there: that this empty pottery wheel will in fact contain something in the end. I, myself, have a hard time creating something from nothing. I like: directions, instructions, a blueprint, if you will. When I have a plan, I can follow, even mimic, but starting with nothing and molding it into something without a desired outcome as to what it should look like, for me: HARD, HARD, HARD! You might as well be asking me to do surgery on myself! How do I begin? What if I do it wrong? When it isn't easy, and faith is elusive I wonder why in the 'H - E - Double Hockey Sticks' I even thought I was good at this or even like this, I struggle to begin, the words just not coming, sheer force of my will or even self-deprecation cannot make me fill the space. I close my eyes trying to summon anything but usually all I find is a mocking "I told you so." and then silence. Sad, but also, somewhat relieved, I put the scalpel down and walk away.

Of course there are times when I am faith-filled I write as if I am the tide and the page is the sand. Believing I have something to say, not sure of a good way to say it, I keep putting down one word after another, not even knowing if the outcome will be intelligible to anyone but me, and I don't even care. I keep working, I keep writing, I keep reading and re-working my words, crashing over the sand again and again in an unstoppable rhythm. THAT, my friends, is faith! Not seeing a picture in my mind of what I am trying to construct, but faith that if I keep putting down words a sculpture I will create. OK, probably not a sculpture, but maybe a bowl, or a vase or something. I will have something to show for this.

Faith....which today seems to have taken up residence in me again. Most days, I can't recall even what it looks like or when was the last time I saw it. But today faith and I are having coffee and sitting here together as if he was always here. So much so, that today I can say here: I am a writer. Maybe for no one but myself, but it is part of me - of who I am.

But even with faith I find I get stuck. It's that in the hurry of life, sometime I can't find myself and my inner voice. Cluttered in my mind among the to-do lists, chores, the constant worry and the 50 million other things I must remember is that small voice, lost in the busy crowd of competing thoughts. In all that disorganized chaos clamoring for attention how can one find even one complete though, let alone a string of them that makes sense? "Hush!" I tell them, "I am working my clay." Oh if it were only that easy!

Sometimes my inner voice speaks so eloquently to me at very inopportune times like when I'm in a place where I cannot scribble down what is being spoken. Taking me on a ride in my mind that is magnificent. When I do finally sit down to write I cannot summon this voice to talk. Like a stubborn child with its arms folded across its chest and mouth clamped shut. His eyes are beseeching me, "Come on I dare you to try to make me open up!" And I sit.... trying to recall that blissful train of though that I rode as it came up over the mountain and upon the most beautiful valley of words. But that stubborn toddler will not cooperate. Yes, I admit, I can't make you remember or revisit the earlier trip we took. I imagine this toddler mad at me for my lack of attention when he was ready and willingly spilling his secret.

Writing comes in fits and spurs. I would like to say if I disciplined myself to write everyday that somewhere in that I could sift out the good, worthy part from all the rambling that would surely be the result of filling pages with my daily thoughts. Truth is, my voice speaks when it speaks and them is silent when it's silent. So I don't know if this would be a worthwhile habit to force.

And there in lies the perplexing issue of discipline. What drives us to do anything? Because if you don't have a reason, why then how do you convince yourself to keep moving through the stuff that is hard? Finding the reason that will cause you to do the work. Not just a goal. Quite frankly, I am goal driven, like: "Do A to get B". But this is a process, not an end-result kind of thing. The goal moves and changes. On one hand I can see that having discipline is not completely the answer, but I can also see that I don't want to use lack of motivation as a crutch.

Quit worrying about being good enough, or saying the right things. Just write. Quit giving up and pushing aside what is hard. Trust that your heart has something to say and if you let it is will state what is contains. Because even at it's worst, your words are just that: yours.

“The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.” ~ Maya Angelou

Addiction

Reading a new book called Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gillbert. Absolutely LOVING it. As in I am devouring each and every word, absolutely gulping them down like a tall glass of water. My head tilted back, eyes closed, trickles of water running out of the corner of my mouth and down my face.... not wanting to waste, not wanting to finish with out savoring, but can't quite slow down either. Yeah, it's THAT GOOD! Here is one excerpt that I am addicted to (no pun intended):

"Addiction is the hallmark of every infatuation-based love story, It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never ever dared to admit you wanted - an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement. Soon you start craving that intense attention, with the hungry obsession of any junkie. When the drug is withheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but who now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore - despite the fact that you know he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because he used to give it to you for free). Next stage finds you skinny and shaking in the corner, certain only that you would sell your soul or rob your neighbors just to have that thing even one more time. Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you're someone he's never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is, you can hardy blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even in your own eyes.
So that's it. You have reached infatuation's final destination - the complete and merciless devaluation of self."

Oh boy....

I imagine sitting in a room. A fan slowly whirling above me and the circle of faceless people. I stand and say:
"Hello." and I state my name "I am an addict"
The group of faceless strangers reply back, "Hello..."

Maybe I have always intrinsically understood I was prone to addiction. Afraid always of needing anything. But somehow, I let myself want this. Didn't even understand that I wanted it let alone that I could come to crave and need it. Now fighting that feeling of loneliness that comes when the high wears off.....

Which brings me to one of her excerpts about loneliness. When she finds herself dealing with loneliness she tells herself in absolute resolve (that I am so jealous of):

"So be lonely, learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for you own unfulfilled yearnings."

Oh my f-word-ing Gad! (Opps, I apologize... lordy, should probably not be so profane... especially when the book is about gaining spiritual insight). But is that not beautifully, beautifully stated? Yeah... goosebumps.

Winter in Oregon

If I don't get some sunshine and blue skies DAMMIT I will have to resort to this....

Angel

Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There’s always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I’ll find some peace tonight

In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there

So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don’t make no difference
Escaping one last time
It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

This song reminds me of the ever present discontent that hides in the shadows most of the time, but when things slow down this time of year, seems to capture more time in thought than it should. Spending time in our minds thinking and rethinking all that lay behind us and before us. Sometimes all I want is that distraction to pull me out of the depths of my own madness. To not be so consumed with second chances ~ because all that is done is just that: done.

Silent Reverie.....

Back 2 Good

"Back 2 Good"
It's nothing,it's so normal
you just stand there

I could say so much But I don't go there cuz I don't want to

I was thinking if you were lonely Maybe we could leave here and no one would know
At least not to the point that we would think so
Everyone here, knows everyone here is thinking about somebody else
It's best if we all keep it under our heads
I couldn't tell, if anyone here was feeling the way I do
But I'm lonely now, and I don't know how To get it back to good

This don't mean that, you own me
This ain't no good, in fact it's phony as hell
But things worked out just like you wanted too
If you see me out you don't know me Try to turn your head, try to give me some room
To figure out just what I'm going to do

And everyone here, hates everyone here for doing just like they do
It's best if we all keep this quiet instead
And I couldn't tell, why everyone here was doing me like they do
But I'm sorry now, and I don't know how To get it back to good
Everyone here, is wondering what it's like to be with somebody else
Everyone here's to blame,
everyone here gets caught up in the pleasure of the pain,
everyone hides shades of shame,
but looking inside we're the same, And we're all grown now,
but we don't know how To get it back to good
Everyone here, knows everyone here is thinking 'bout somebody else
It's best if we all keep this under our heads I couldn't tell, if anyone here was feeling the way I do
But it's over now, and I don't know how, it's over now
There's no getting back to good