Nana knows this much…

The woman never could understand why people search for that which is so hard to find unless they look within. No one needs to spend a fortune to seek these things out. One only needs to be willing to learn and experience it–and to be silent and listen. Each person must do this on his or her own–wherever their wings take them–and it is nothing to fear. And that person must patiently wait for the answer. Fear keeps many from finding their vision and sometimes looking for it through others can prevent it–especially if we become too dependent upon them. Others can guide us, but we must find our path ourselves, in our own way, in our own time. The process is part of the adventure, and it can be rewarding–and for her it has been.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JI2o-nxHd8

I have my mountain to which I run to, and it is where I find my solace but I plan to go to Sedona, AZ or to Pecos, NM for a retreat at some point. There is strength in silence and beauty in places where nature can speak to us.  That being said, I hope you all have a great weekend.

 

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Unusual Truth–Nana

You have beaten me yet I do smile

You have berated me but I still laugh

You have misjudged me and I have survived

You have bound me but never have found me

You have misused me yet I have prevailed

You have discarded me-the stone left unturned.

 

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Nana Looks Back at 2012…

It is hard for me to look back at 2012 without first looking at 2011…In 2011, my area was in a severe drought.  Here are some before pics from 2011–the year of that horrible drought that isn’t QUITE over yet…

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This is at my beloved spring…Just one of my sanctuaries.  I knew when I walked here last year and it was still dry, that rain would come…I knew the creatures would return after all those fires, too.

This is where a lot of the water came (the snow earlier this year)  from and the result, for which I am grateful! I also took pics from the mountain last month so you could see how much water we got even from a distance! I am grateful for this!

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We got snow and rain! As a result, my sanctuary is now normal again for now, and for that I am truly grateful! Enjoy the view! I do! And as I go up the mountain on this first day of 2013, I will hope and pray that all of you get what you richly need first, what you want second!

I want to send out a special congratulations to Lauren Vasil of the Fizzgiggery blog for her achievements in 2012! She really rocks! Not many people can pull off a 4.0 average like that!  Lauren, may 2013 bring you great fortune and all you desire! You earned it!

And I’ll share this on twitter since I promised to get some pics out! Got my SD card back today and found my camera again yesterday so I’m back in business! Happy New Year everyone!

AND CHECK OUT THIS BLOG!  http://www.fizgiggery.com/

 

 

Nana Goes to the Sanctuary

The woman learned long ago that the words to this song hold very deep meaning for those who listen intently to it. With her pen in hand, she ventures up to her mountain again–and this time she won’t leave it until the arrows that are pulled from the quiver of her pen have found their target. The vision is there, but going deeper to get it is sometimes a challenge. It is often harder to follow through, but she will because this is a matter of finishing something–not starting anew. Some things are too important to not let the pen have its way. She learned long ago that those who should have stood by her were the very ones who stood in her way–hence the change of number and change of company. It paid off with a new gig… Have a great week! I hope you all dance…

And this is where one can find me–if one looks hard enough! 😉

And here’s a video to brighten your day…

 

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In What Colors Do You Dream?

Sounds silly doesn’t it?  Maybe it is but we all have our quirks and perks.  Some of us even slide into pulling into our shells from time to time because we are safer there. It is when I am in my shell, as I am at the moment that I begin to ask myself what it is I really want? What color do I want my life to be?  Blue is beautiful, yet almost as somber as black depending on the shade.  I love how the rain, lightning and thunder mixes with that–and there are many times I have felt safer in the storm than out of it.

Nobody can understand that thought either. I hear that life cannot be a “color” but who is it that makes these bloody rules?  I know that there are those times when I rant about some things, but they DO make some sense to me.  The color on those days is not a basic crayon red but more of that of arterial blood–my blood, which I once saw after being viciously bitten once.  That was a scary experience–combined with  yellow, which is often associated with fear but not canary yellow…Oh no…It’s more of a pastel because while there is some fear in my hesitation,  that part does not last long.

Then there is my mountain which ranges from brown to green, with various sprinkles of color throughout depending on my journey.  It calms and blends all those other colors.  It is said that we all bleed red but the road is red also.  That blood that dripped from me then is now part of that road for real.  So what color should I dream in?  Should it be the mixture of blues and greys of a summer rain long anticipated, or should I start to dream of greens and such?

Better yet here is a question for you.  What is the color of love?  Does any emotion have a color?  I thought I knew love but I didn’t until now.  It embraces me when I close my eyes. It chases me when I would rather be alone.  It really never gives up on me, so the Universe must know something that I don’t.  However, I don’t let it consume me.  I cannot let it possess me. It opens me back up to yellow all over again…This time the same shade of yellow as that wallpaper that Charlotte Perkins Gillman wrote about. I have heard that love is insane.  Time will tell won’t it?

What color is insanity?  Is it bold and bright or pastels and subdued?  Are the artists and dreamers really the mad ones or is the rest of the world the color of–well what color could the word “fucked” be?

Sometimes it can be the dark hues of “The Awakening” by Kate Chopin or “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath.  All of these colors I am looking into–but if love has a color–I fear letting it become a force to drive me out of this comfort zone–this solitude I am now in for the rest of the week.  As long as I don’t slip into the darkness of a murky river with grey stones to weigh me down, I guess I am doing fine.  That color keeps chasing me–especially when I dream–but should I dream it at all?  Is it white and pure or is it the color of the bruises that I once had upon my heart?

I do know this much–it does have different types and degrees–some true and some false.  How does one know the difference in their heart? Does the  Universe say to trust it, or to think before deciding?   I’m not trying so hard now.  Maybe it is not a color but a vibration.  If I figure this out, I’ll discuss that later.  But for now, in what colors do you dream?  I think I’ll enjoy these colors for a while:

Solitude with peace…This is where love might find me–if I let it.

I will stop this now.  I would rather dream the colors of my mountain and the colors of the new chapter in my life about to open.  Something is on the horizon–and it will be to my benefit.   In what colors do you dream?

Farewell My Warrior

I stood up here again today.  I waited quietly for the sign or a word from you.  I felt so alone–isolated and unloved without you here.  I kept dwelling on why you were taken from me, weeping softly as the willow trees harmonized along with the wind.   It was then I felt the embrace of the South Wind.  The warmth of it made me aware of a presence I hadn’t noticed before.   I felt as if I were being embraced when I was asking why you were gone.  I looked to my right and saw a number of blue jays in a nearby try.  They didn’t move even if I moved closer, but kept watching me…

It was then I remembered something else–a story an old man in the village had told me about how the cardinals and blue jays watch over us at times.  I could almost hear you telling me that it was alright.  I could almost feel you wrap your arms around me in that wind.  Then the clouds started to blow in and a mist began to fall…I then heard the cry of the Eagle.  I knew the time to mourn would pass and that the Eagle would guide me to the point to where I could find you.

I began to walk further into the forest on that mountain and the rain began to fall.  I found a cave and went inside.  The storm grew worse, but I knew the Eagle guided me here for a reason. As the thunder roared and the rain quenched the thirst of the forest, I felt a slumber come over me.  I laid down on my jacket and closed my eyes.  I then walked through a field toward a magnificent lake.  The mountains there were much taller than here and had more green trees and beautiful flowers. It was there I saw the white stallion.  You once promised me that when I saw a white stallion, it would mean that I would go to another land, far away from the land of my tears.

I had little idea that when I arrived back home, a plane ticket to a place called Montana was waiting for me.  I guess that it is there that I will discover a new world–and a new life.  I did not know that I would be needed elsewhere, but you did.  You told me this long before I lost you.  I will go forth now and will shed no more tears.  This was meant to be.  What awaits me there, I am not sure, but I know that when you told me that I would leave here, I never thought that I would have to live this vision alone.  Until we meet again.  Farewell, my warrior.

The water behind the mountain ahead...

 

 

The All-American “Nanahood”!

Someone welcomed  me to the All-American “Nanahood” today…As mentioned before, I am going to be a grandmother.  My mind flooded with emotion when we found that my baby, Kevin, is having his own baby–and it is a boy…He will arrive onto this troubled orb sometime around 27 July 2012.  I’ve looked at the significance of the date in History, and then decided I’ll wait until he gets here to deal with that post…However, I will let it be known now that I thank God he is not coming in November or December since those are the months that his father, his two uncles and I have birthdays and everyone is always freaking broke because Christmas is RIGHT AFTER!  ***I am rejoicing there! Seriously!***

Being that I have raised 3 sons, I can deal with this little guy fairly well!  He’s going to be raised on football, baseball, Shakespeare and Heavy me–I mean several genres of music. Above all, he will learn to watch the sky and know what the changes mean,  as well as how to hear the 4 winds.  He’ll know the differences between the birds. He will also know to thank the universe for what is given to him.  If we are ever by the ocean again, he’ll learn to watch the tides.   All of these things I learned, and more.  To those who do not understand this, it would seem to be useless but I have never been  harmed by tornadoes and such yet…NO weather man can predict the weather like this family can anyway.

Have a great week!

Sometimes When I Cry…

I learned that my 6th grade English teacher passed away within the past 48 hours.   This was a woman who was tough, but fair.  She always pushed her students to do their best, yet as they got older, she encouraged them to march to the beat of their own drum.  She was best at marching to her own beat in a time that most felt uncomfortable with anyone or anything that was not descended from the same train of thought that they were.

One thing I did learn was that she expected to hear our own voices when we wrote–not a rehashing of what someone else spent months and years pounding into our heads.  There are days I simply want to scream, “This is who I am!” knowing that very few accept my not-so-conventional train of thought (and probably never will).   I do not know that she ever experienced this depth of feeling so alone at times, but I know I experienced it for most of my life.

Death has been a constant companion to me.  It is neither male nor female, and yet it’s presence seems to invade my space and that peace I have as of late.  It is a part of my life, having been touched by it many times in my youth, and damned near experiencing it myself twice. I won’t go into the details of it, but I know what it is to come very close to experiencing that endlessness that everyone seems to fear with  so much dread.

I don’t fear it though.  Why bother fearing it when it touches us all more than we realize?  If anything, it is what we leave behind that we should fear.  It is the failing of saying “I love you.” to those closest to us each day that should have us reeling in repentance for neglecting to realize that they DO need to hear those three words from time to time.

It is our failing as human beings to do what we know to do that is right even when nobody is watching us that we should fear.  It is the children and grandchildren that will learn what it is to inherit a lack of integrity as a result.

It is our non-acceptance of others regardless of how different they are from us that we should grovel in tears over, because our children and our grandchildren will learn what it is to be a bigot if we fail to realize our own stupidity with respect to this issue.

It is our unwillingness to give selflessly of ourselves to others we should show some remorse over, for our children and our grandchildren will learn what it is to be self-centered from that alone.

It is our willingness to dash one another in thought and tongue from our presence (since it is not legal to kill them) that we should weep over because if we are willing to force our wills upon someone else rather than take them as they are or banish them that teaches our children that hatred is a good thing–as well as power.

There is power in hatred.  From hatred springs every evil known to man–murder, destruction, wars and sometimes pestilence.  Anyone who disagrees should look at how there have been many advantages given to Death to do its deeds with each successive conflict in History–and we won’t even discuss periods of time when hundreds of thousands of people to millions of them were slaughtered.

Sometimes when I cry, it is because  although I know Death is a constant companion in life and to life, I have joy for it does not dominate me.   Death in and of itself is a release from the bonds of our own nature it seems.  However, if we are not concerned about the tracks we leave behind in our trail for those to follow, then we have lost all consciousness of who we are and what we should strive to become throughout our days.  Does that make sense?  If it doesn’t, then reflect on it a while.  How should we WANT to be remembered?  I know how I remember my teacher and several others that have passed before her would answer that question.

Sometimes when I cry, I remember that they gave me a torch to carry and to pass on to my grandchildren–and I will do so–regardless of what others may think.  We should never fear those we don’t answer to–but we should fear what we leave behind for our descendants to answer for in our behalf, I think.  For what we leave in our own tracks, we are accountable because it is the future generations that will always pay for our own stupidity in spades in the end.

Yes, we should follow our own drum–but we shouldn’t sentence our descendants to follow the drum others make for them. Sometimes when I cry, I fear that they will not know what to follow because they are pushed so hard to be like “everyone else” and not themselves now–or so it seems.

Deeply Reflecting…

I have pulled in the ranks and am not talking to a lot of people right now. It has gotten to a point to where I am even  re-evaluating a couple of decisions I’ve made.  It gets really old when one tries to cheer others on, and then tries to help in any way possible and then only seeing a blank space where some colors and design should be.  However I have recently found myself in situations to where I have to fake a smile or a laugh…I have also found myself in a situation to where once again I had to be the one to create distance for my own well-being.

At dawn I will be up on my mountain again to see if there is an answer awaiting me. When I feel uncertain as to the path I should take, I find my strength up there.  Once again I must seek answers and guidance.  My spirit is deeply troubled tonight, so this time I will not go up there to seek the blessings of the Universe for others as I normally do–but I will seek the answers to my questions while there.  I need to know that my energy is not being wasted for nothing.  I need to KNOW that what good I do really does go out to reach others like the ripples of a pond, and that people who benefit at the nucleus (meaning where I began to have the empathy and compassion to want to see them do well) are actually paying it forward themselves.

Believe me, Wankan Tanka has never, ever steered me in the wrong direction.  My questions will be these: Am I making a difference or not. If so, I don’t see it.   Is anything I am doing to help changing a single life for the better here?  If not, where do I need to be?  Better yet, is there something I need to change?  Hopefully when I come down, I’ll have those answers.   2012 is going to be a good year for me. I just need to figure this out for now, so I’m going back to my cave for the night.  I wonder what the Universe is going to send my way this time?   Hopefully I will gain some fresh inspiration.

The Great White Alligator of Baines Parrish, Louisiana… (Part 1)

You’re right…There is no such place in your world, but in the world of a little girl named Felicia Mitchell, it is very real.  And to her, it is where she lives with her mother, Annie and her Grandmother Ida.   As the smell of freshly baked blueberry muffins permeates through the walls at 6 a.m. one morning, six-year-old Felicia goes across her room to her dresser where she looks at a picture of the father she never knew, right after tossing aside the Winnie the Pooh comforter.

“Daddy, I know you can’t come back, so I wished for a new daddy for Christmas. If it makes you cry I’m sorry, but Mama is lonely and I want to know what it is like to have a daddy of my own.  Grandma says you will never come back and that you’re in Heaven and Mama gets all upset over that, but I think she’s right. Maybe someday I’ll get to meet you, but I think for now, I’m going to go look for the white gator…Big Bear says if I see the white gator, my wish will come true, so I’m gonna go by the pond to see if I just catch a glimpse of him.  Big Bear says sometimes I might see him in a dream and he’s not a bad gator either.  He doesn’t eat people and he has no teeth! He just shows up to let people know things are going to be okay. I hope you are okay where you are. Later, Daddy! Oh and by the way, Mama got me Winnie the Pooh stuff for my room and my walls are now white instead of that dark blue you liked. I hope you don’t mind but it was just too dark in here for me!”

Her father, Michael has been missing in action since Felicia was six months old.  Although Ida felt that Annie should divorce, she refused.  Annie felt that somehow, someway, he was alive somewhere.  However today, she was about to have all hopes shattered.

With that being said, Felicia hastily put on her clean jeans and a sweater and went into the kitchen where her grandmother was sitting in the breakfast nook, enjoying a cup of coffee and her cigarette.  Her salt and pepper hair was tied back and no one would guess that she is already almost 60.  She looks as though she’s 40.  Like her daughter, Annie, men fawn over her too.  She spilled a little coffee on her brand new pink robe and looked up to see Felicia’s blonde curls headed right past her–so she refrained from uttering her usual vernacular.

“Child, where are you going at this hour?” she asked Felicia.

“Just to the edge of the pond to see if the white alligator is there.” she said as she looked into her grandmother’s green eyes.

“Alright but stay on this side of the yard where I can see ‘ya.” she said.

“Yes ma’am.” Felicia said as she went out the back door and walked to the edge of the pond.  When she looked at the ground, Ida could tell how disappointed she was.

“Are you going to tell her that there is no alligator?” Annie asked as she entered the kitchen in a mini robe and a pink teddy.

“No. I won’t hurt that child by shattering any hope she has.  She never tells what she wishes for, either.  Just let it be Anna. And don’t tell her Santa don’t exist either or I’ll go postal on your ass!” Ida said.

“I wouldn’t do that to her, Mother.” Annie assured her as she tied back her blonde hair and sat across from her in the booth.

Felicia slowly re-entered the kitchen and went to the booth and sat down quietly.

“No gator?” Ida asked.

Felicia shook her head, “I won’t give up though!”

“Good! That’s the spirit! Now what are we gonna do today?” Ida asked.

“Mama said we are all going to the park for a picnic!” Felicia beamed.

“That’s right!” Ida said.

“And we are having a special picnic! Remember why?” Annie asked.

“Today would be Daddy’s birthday?” Felicia said.

“That’s right and we are going to tell some stories about him so you’ll know more about him!” Ida told her.

“Mama,” Felicia began, “Who is that guy that moved into Billie’s old house?”

“I didn’t know anyone moved in there Felicia!” Annie told her.

“He did! He’s an older guy and he talks funny! I asked him where he’s from and he said Birmingham but he don’t talk like no one I ever saw before. I told him he talks funny and he laughed at me! That’s when he said he’s from England.” she said.

“You shouldn’t say things about how people talk. It’s not polite.” Ida said firmly.

“But he does talk funny!,” Felicia protested, “And he doesn’t know anything about cars like Grandpa did either!”

“What on Earth do you mean?” Annie asked.

“HE keeps calling a hood a “bonnet”! I may be only six but a bonnet is what some girls wear on their heads at Easter! I let him know it too and he laughed at me again!” Felicia said.

Both women laughed then Ida told Felicia, “Well just be nice. They just use different words for different things, that’s all.  You have a cousin who is going to school there.  Go wash your hands and get ready for breakfast.”

“Yes Ma’am.”  she said as she left the table.

“Looks like we have a new neighbor you should go meet, Mama!” Annie said as she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t even think about it Annie!,” Ida warned, “I KNOW that look!”

The rest of the day was going normally until about 10 a.m.   Then there was a knock at the door.  Felicia answered it.  There were two men at the door. One was a priest and one was in an Army uniform.  “Hello, little girl.  Is your mommy home?” the man in the uniform asked.

“Yeah…Somewhere…MAMA!” she yelled.

“What is your name Little Girl?” the priest asked.

“Felicia Mitchell.” she said.  The two men then looked at each other but said nothing.

Annie entered wearing jeans and a sweater.  The minute she saw them she put her arms around Felicia and then knelt to eye level. “Felicia, go get Mama, now. Please.” she said.

“What’s wrong, Mama?”  Felicia asked.

“Just go get Mama. Go now.” she directed calmly.

“Yes Ma’am.”  Felicia said as she went upstairs to Ida’s room.  Ida’s door was open and she was brushing her hair.  She too  was already in a sweater and jeans.

“Grandma. Mama needs you downstairs.  There are two guys down there who–”

Then Annie screamed “Noooooooo! It’s not true! It’s not true!”

As Ida entered Annie collapsed from the Chaplain’s arms into her arms.  As Felicia watched–not fully understanding what was going on, she knew that it was something really, really bad for her mother to break down like that.

The men stayed for a while and Felicia went to her room.  She didn’t want to be down there at that point.  A bit later Annie entered her room and directed her to sit next to her on the bed.

“Felicia,” she began tearfully, “I have some news to share and it isn’t good.”

“What mama?” Felicia asked.

“Your daddy is not coming home.  He was killed in Iraq.  They didn’t find this out until a few weeks ago and he is being brought back here so that we can say goodbye to him.  I will be making funeral arrangements tomorrow.”  she told her.

“Grandma told me a long time ago that she thought he was in Heaven.  I’m sorry Mama. I wish I could remember him.” Felicia told her.

“You don’t remember him but when we look at you–we know he is still around.  He lives right there.” she said as she pointed to Felicia’s chest.  She then took the child into her arms and softly wept as she held her.  Felicia didn’t really understand death, but she wanted her mother to feel better so she simply hugged her back and sat in her lap quietly as Annie rocked her back and forth.

Later, after the two men left with some paperwork Annie signed, the three sat in the kitchen and ate quietly.

“Felicia,” Ida asked, “How are you feeling? You do understand what happened don’t you?”

“I think so Grandma.  Daddy’s never coming home.  It’s sad, but I don’t remember him, Grandma.” she said.

“It’s alright, Felicia. We know.,” her mother began, “Over the next few days a lot of family members will be here.  Your grandparents from Hawaii will be here too, and they’ll be so glad to see you.  They came last year, remember?”

“Yes Mama. I remember.  They gave me that picture of Daddy and his trinket box.” she said.

“That’s right–the one with your daddy’s baseball card collection is in the attic too.  He loved baseball just like you do.” Annie said.

“And that little necklace you have that he sent you from Iraq is in the trinket box.  You should  wear that to the service, okay?” Ida said.

“I’ll wear it but it won’t break will it?” Felicia asked worried that the chain would break.

“No. I had it fixed a month ago. It will be fine.” Ida said.

End of Part One