Taking Stock

“I see…fields forever                                                                                                       Growing wild and free.”

nature vs. nurture
nature vs. nurture

Stuff I’ve learned the past five years.             Good-bye, NY.

-when in doubt, go back to the start, go back, go back, keep going back

-I don’t miss cement towers, crowds, noise, designer flare and busy streets full of empty strangers
-if you plant seeds, they will grow
-closets filled with fancy things are just that, overcrowded
-sweats, sturdy hiking boots, practical dress may not look cool, they are warm and efficient

 

-purpose. find a purpose that nurtures the five-year old dreamer, naive, exuberant, happiest parts

-choosing love is hard, brave and healing
-loosing your mind, over and over, putting the pieces together is not what I would have chosen, it’s what I got

-right now is it, tomorrow is guaranteed different, tomorrow is not a guarantee

-I have lived in many countries, cultures, cities, experienced various tastes, varying people                      -you have only one heart-happy home

-when asked if I wanted to replace Lupe, born blind in one eye for a different puppy, my  answer was a vehement no, thank you                                                                                      -trust your first instinct, even when living in a constant flux of polar opposites

-at my sickest, darkest, scariest I knew, I would take care of her
-what I didn’t know was how well she would care for me, asking for nothing
-Lupe sees and feels with her heart, much like her mama

-where I am going is…nowhere, nothing special on the agenda                                              -I am here, doing my best to make it count

-there is pure, white magic on the small-town Street where I come from
-doors remain open, smiles greet me no questions, no judgement                                                 -warm welcome home.

-simple is good, simple is okay, simple is not very simple at all

its all right

to go back, try again 

lupita
another bridge

Good earth, love.

A visual, the starting point. The jumping off place inside the intimate, very personal view of a world. The vast, rugged, dangerous, tumbleweed terrain, desert earth we’re traveling. Hearts get trampled, tears, pain, misery. Is it worth one brief, fleeting second of love. The Vast Landscape tells me so. It’s all borrowed time, life’s torn pages and faded images.

-excerpt Georgia Pine.

“Adelaide finally let go, cocooned in a white cloud of down comfort. She slumbered, dreaming of plaid picnic blankets, wicker baskets, melon, oranges, baguettes, brie, green olives and sweet tea. The citrine sunrays’ shadow dancing across the waves. The dream memory. Her mother’s strong, lean arms sending her soaring above the ocean. Free, unafraid, Adelaide’s daddy sat waving on shore, peeling a Clementine.” 

http://www.amazon.com/THE-VAST-LANDSCAPE-Jacqueline-Cioffa-ebook/dp/B00H3P51LS

http://www.adinamills.com

Adina Mills Jewelry

Life is messy beautiful, chaos.
Life is messy beautiful, chaos.

GEORGIA PINE. Covered

Immersed in the land of Georgia Pine., a glimpse. The mysterious, ethereal image was the first I found. It helps shape the divine character I see in my imagination, so vividly. The cover, a sneak peek. The Vast Landscape sequel, is a steady work in progress. Harrison’s raw, honest beauty carries on, through Georgia Pine.

Georgia Pine.
Georgia Pine.
Jacqueline Cioffa

©Laura Makabresku photography

Thank you dear Laura, for sharing, your art, haunting imagery and intimate, emotive, fairytale world. I am honored.

“Every wound, tear is real. They are mine. And every photo sep­ar­ately I treat as my own spir­itual child.”  Laura Makabresku

http://lauramakabresku.blogspot.com

Matters of the Heart

heart happy
heart happy

I like to fix things, the fixer am I. Without a toolbox filled with talisman, memory and crazy glue, the fixing proves difficult. A house is built with cement, nails, wood, copper and steel. A home is adjoining parts, veins, bones and good intention, feeding the heart. The most perfect, precise pump ever made, says the master journeyman, and my ancestor. Impossible to understand, at times impossible to fix. 

-goethe
-goethe talisman
Home.
Home.

Knock Three Times

this old clock
this old clock

When I’m stressed, I clean. When I’m confused, I clean. When I’m angry, I clean. Exhausted, nauseated, in full-blown Benzo withdrawal. Not permitted by my shrinks to travel, basically I’m assigned to the nut house. Only, this house arrest comes with a ton of perks, comfortable amenities. Yeah, you could this house is pretty clean. Benzo withdrawal is worse than heroine. You could say, that, yes could.

Just when I think I can’t take one more day of the absurdity that has become my existence, apparently I can. I blame the doctors in part, the shrinks, quacks, they don’t a clue what might work, and what won’t. Mental Illness meds that could very well kill you, they’re so quick to write a script. Well, that one didn’t work, let’s try this on top of that. Pretty soon, your brain is a full on pileup of conflicting signals, no wonder it’s lost without a roadmap. My beautiful mind, gets more and more tangled, lost inside forgotten memory, drooping eyelid, psychosomatic illness, blindness, hallucinations. They’ve really fuked you now, you have no choice but to go nuts. There’s no winding the hands back on the clock.

Me, I’m the anomaly. The med-resistant patient, the BiPolar opposite. I hate the drugs. Muscle rigor, swollen tongue, numbness, vertigo, ringing ears, eye paralysis, what’s next? Fuk off, you can keep your pink, white and yellow pills, in various doses of madness. When I can’t fight anymore, when I can’t find the will, I will look to the clock. With what’s left of my shredded dignity, faith, courage and hope, I’ll simply go, on my time. My brain, I’m donating to science.

I received ‘the phone call’, email. The sad news we dread, three times in one week. Each ring, every broken heart, gave me strength to fight the personal pain, fear and sorrow. Empathy takes over in tragedy, gratitude settles in. One loss hit hard, knocked the wind out. The loss of a child. I would’ve gladly given away some of my time, to his mother. I have lived so much beautiful, loved so deeply and laughed so loud, freely. Time doesn’t work like that, the hands do not stop. I will fight for her, silently, the unbearable loss. In honor of mother and child I will live, because that’s all I can do. I offer prayer, for the loved ones who’ve gone missing. Maybe they’re not missing at all, maybe they returned home. To an ethereal world where there is no pain, no disease, filled with Technicolor dreams, and Opal crystalline riches. Enough for us all. Home to an impeccably clean house, with five-star amenities and perks, and no sorrow.

GEORGIA PINE.
GEORGIA PINE.

Time tells me I’m here, for a reason. For now.  Until I’m not.

And that is, just fine by me.