Tag Archives: Life

Drumroll….

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Drumroll ......

Stuff. We have so much stuff.  Allen and I have been stewards of family heirlooms, papers, and stuff.  Recently when we were once again downsizing his mother’s belongings, we realized what a burden stuff is.  Even the fun stuff.  The beautiful stuff.  We have spent so much time in memories of the past that we have not been living.  So, we are trying to unload even a piece at a time….things that have meant something to us, but are just taking up space.

I bought these drums soon after my 50th birthday.  I am about to be 58 years old in August.   I took drum lessons.  Then, I stopped.  Life got in the way.  Obviously it was not my passion either.  So, my drums have taken up space in our upstairs playroom.

Today I am selling them to a young woman who is giddy about these drums.  I am selling them to her for $90.  I am sharing this because I want you to know that it is ok to make a little, but not hold out for those big bucks we think we can get.  $90 is what she offered that she can afford.  I am excited for her to have them.  She is getting them for her 40th birthday. This is what life is about.  Passing dreams on and continuing with our own dreams.

Allen and I want freedom from the burdens of our stuff.  We will see how it goes.  This is my first real thing I have been afraid to let go of.   Some things I will donate, but if I can make a little for a rainy day fund, then I will do so.

Wish us luck.  Letting go…

Drumroll….

 

 

Go Away For A Bit

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I must write a disclaimer here. I mean no disrespect to anyone with this poem. I wrote this days after Kate Spade committed suicide. I was walking up my stairs at home and I thought, “Brilliant. Hanging with a scarf. I have never even thought of that.” As one who has suffered with depression, I know that I am sometimes just tired. Mentally tired. The thoughts racing in my mind. I love life. I love recovery. I love growing. I love sharing through words. That is what this poem is about. It is not about suicide.

On Tasting Grief

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My grief made me vomit sobs.

The pain was not palatable.

Repulsive pain.
The kind of pain that will make you hate.
Bitter.
That sick taste.
My grief made me vomit sobs.
Like a virus that lingers.
Cast out this substance.
Still shaky on my feet.
Time is what it takes to swallow life again.

Buy Good Bay Leaves

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My advice to my daughter today is…

Buy good bay leaves.
Your recipe calls for bay leaves.
If you buy the cheap ones and put them in your dish,
they will be superfluous.  
Profuse or perhaps refuse.
You will have to navigate them and take them out
before you can enjoy your meal.
The eye will see them and think the cook went to great detail
while preparing this bounty.
 
If they still have their flavor, it will be worth sifting them out.
But, if they have no essence they become trash to you.  
Unnecessary. 
You don’t need them.  
Buy good bay leaves.
 
 
 
 

I Know People

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I know people who live a life one foot in front of the other.  

They don’t leave the path on which they trod.
Maybe a stumble.  They must take a step back.  
Then, onward they go.
I know people who walk in a circle.  
They can’t find their path. Life floats them along.
I know people who trod and who float.
They capsize.  They plunge.
They ascend.  They rise.
I know this person.  

Save Draft

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Save draft.  I am feeling a bit anxious this morning.  A bit in my head.  Thoughts racing.  What to do.  What to do?  I want to sit here and watch the birds outside my window.  Watch them eat.  Food provided by my benevolent husband.  It is a paradox.  We feed them so we can watch them.  They fascinate us. It is for us.  It is for our entertainment.  Is it really an act of giving? We think we must be the source of their food for the winter.  I want to watch them and escape.  I am writing today in my Gmail because Gmail will save my draft.  I woke up with anxiety this morning as I do most mornings.  I began to panic that I didn’t have the necessary backup for my computer.  I have so many things to do in 2017.  I need to ensure that my writings are saved.  I am just not up to it today.  So writing in my Gmail is my solution today.  It will automatically save this.  One thing I am good at is finding solutions.  I panic a little; then I move on.  There is no time for frying in panic.  Frying in panic.  Frying seems to be the opposite of marinating.  Marinating is stewing in something.  Letting it sit.  Panic doesn’t do that.  Panic takes a hold of you and it makes you done.  Fried.  I have a lot to do in 2017 and one thing I will do is to continue looking for solutions.