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Confessions of a gypsy girl

Not all who wander are lost

You, Death

you listened to music

while I died drowning in tears night after night you

impassive hard as the

rocks you dug from the garden but never removed

we piled them up until they formed a mound a tiny wall like the invisible one that rose up overnight blocking out the sun forever and then

there were the vegetables that did not grow

I saw the signs

how everything that comes into contact with you dies

(neglected house plants garden beauty the truth love God me)

the sparrow hawk that hit the picture window smearing blood and feathers on the clean glass and

lay in the front

neck broken

you scooped up the bird in your hands and your eyes impersonating profound sadness and regret related how beautiful it was

and then you casually threw it into the woods

Bright star, he

In my night there lives a man who is the sun burning the mist from my morning slumber

In unfocused half-wakefulness I see him truly and listen for the melody that is his and his alone bending my soul towards his

I hear


is the rain gently falling on parched grass the mist that gathers at evenings end and his spirit soars with the bird-flock who arch upwards into the clouds wings outstretched he

Carpets my world in green and puts the blue in the sea dolphins dance and the silent songs of mornings are his songs

he is the fish that leaps joyfully breaking the surface of the still, deep pond rippling outwards and he is the shy deer that stands at the edge of the forest at sunset

music moves with him drawing the world somehow nearer to listen to the melodies of his soul-song

he is the bright star of my morning travel ever north, compass point home. All that is good follows him softly for his way is not brash but gently his artistry shines

the silken webs of spiders creating beauty holding the beaded shining morning dew his is the bird song lilting up to the clear blue sky

He is himself and inside his soul-light


northern winter

In the snow
trees sleep under their blankets of white and
All is silent.
Softly the snow falls in lazy spiraling dance
in the blue black night
I sit in the darkness savoring


I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.

Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

I just want to be alone. I feel so uncertain right now, living in loss and uncertainty. I miss the friends I lost and I miss the one I loved even though I know that the losses are for the best. I am uncertain if they were really friends so acquainted I have become so suddenly with the truth that everyone including me operates however unintentionally or intentionally, with ulterior motives. Were they never my friend?I find myself asking at odd hours, or in the bookstore today tears springing up and spilling over as I considered how R. would have found something I saw funny or how we talked about Russian literature and poetry as I walked down the Russian lit section. Everything reminds me of him and it is enough to make me wish I'd left sleeping dogs lie, but then I remember how happy I was talking to him all those hours. For I was.

I am certain only of uncertainty and change. Change is constant. I also know that loss is temporary for Nature abhors a vacuum...but I need aloneness to process my losses. One friend simply disappeared with no explanation. My other friends explain to me that God is removing from my life those who do not promote my growth or support me....or they say to comfort me that I am not everyones cup of tea but there are those who love me fiercely...to know this cerebrally is something..but my heart is weeping and sore.

I need solitude. I feel this quote keenly:

Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.

Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

I curl up into myself and the silence and aloneness comforts me. In silence I can be myself as I was myself with R. I can cry as I cannot in front of people. I can live in my imagination creating the life I want hoping it will morph into the one I have one day.

One day I will not cry unbidden; I will make new friends and find another soulmate. Life goes on and I will go on with it. But for now I stop and I am still in the center of the maelstrom of my life and I curl up into myself and live in stillness and silence and these words which will heal me.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

Kahlil Gibran


I still think of you, you know

when the snows of a thousand winters frozen by melts softly into springs many springs pass now many times the trees have leafed out and reached out

and I am taken by breezes and sunbeams into years ago when

things seemed


when you were that shy and thoughtful boy I talked for hours with on any conceivable subject in that Burger King in Florida

and sometimes we even laughed.

I took you at face value

I knew nothing of masks then. There was just you and your sweetness and quietness I liked and sought

there was nothing in me warning me to question you no red flags unfurled and years flipped by at the speed of a paper calendar hurricane with the power to make us age and experience and learn about the power of futility

How differently things turned out than I thought they would--


I remember

the boy with the shy smile and

how he seemed to like me and I him and we were friends we talked nonstop on telephones with cords spanning years and years before


became complicated and arduous and we had to be adults in a world in which we never grew up in

we don't know how.

and I smile a little




Disillusionment by Abigail Larson


It was a bridge across the forevers of time and whatever space we souls live in when we are not


we recognize one another even when we are strangers.

You know the feeling, don't you when you feel like you've known someone forever when you've only just met and most often we

were two ships passing in the night

we touched briefly and knew what forever was encased in long looks and conversations where each word we chewed and tasted and savored time

flew like sparrows dispersing upwards life the hourglass running out without

our knowledge until one day you were not

I just wander really. I've been lost since the ether swallowed you and wings drooping I've forgotten what flying was compass broken brokenness defined me

I spent years mending the tear in my soul until one day

I saw

love is the bridge connecting souls yours to mine never alone the deer show me you walk this earth still

love the

silver cord you on one side I on the other touching invisibly feeling the wind and the waves of that dreamscape where you

live now

death a middle passage from life to life

the birds know this as do the deer

Dear past me

I see you now. You are young, and shy, and earnest, and you hide your shyness behind an outgoing personality that often comes across as brash and loud. You are such an innocent. You know well the power of people to hurt. You've been watching people hurt each other at home most of your life. You've retreated to books and writing for safety, and you love school because you're smart, and because there, you get positive affirmation for being who you are.

I wish I could tell you all the amazing places you're going to go, and the people around the world that you will meet. I wish I could tell you that you travel because you love new places, yes, but also because you ran from love because it scared you, and you ran to get away from home. You're a runner. When things get too hard in one place, you run to another. You've started over more times than I can count, but the trick is, you can't run away from yourself. I wish I could tell you to be yourself sooner and not try to be what everyone else wants you to be, especially men. I wish I could tell you not all men are bad, there are good ones out there, but until you think better of yourself, you won't meet those good ones and be ready for them. You'll meet men who are emotionally unavailable like your dad was, but you won't figure this out for thirty years. You will believe that the failure of your relationships is all your fault. But one day, you will understand that while yes, it does take two, you've been picking what you're used to. You've chosen what you believe you deserve and what you believe about yourself--that you are unlovable, invisible, and unimportant. Your dad did a number on you.

You will meet a man who will turn a light on in a dark room for you. He will be the light that shines on a whole new world for you. He will be interested in what you think and who you are, and will like you for yourself. He will give you Blake, and Dylan, and Billie Holiday and Nanci Griffith, and you and he will spend hours talking about all the places he's gone in the world and listening to this, and to all he knows of literature and poetry and culture will light a fire in your heart to see the places he speaks of, and know more of the world he does, because you'd like to be able to keep up with him in conversation. He will call you his girl with the gypsy feet. He will be the most confusing, wonderful , tenderhearted man you have ever known, and he will break your heart, not because he was callous, or heartless, or mean, but because he was good, and kind, and he taught you how a real man acts towards a smart woman he considers his equal. He will die, and you will want to, but you will live--first for him, then later, you will learn to live for yourself.

You will be broke most of your life. You will go to Ireland and write in your journal in Bewley's Cafe. You will visit Shetland Islands and sit on the docks and write by the sea, with the sharp smell of fish, and the briny smell of sea water, next to battered old fishing boats that have stories of their own. You will go to Belfast and look at the murals and wonder why people can't get along. You will wonder why people can't get along all of your life. You will go to Russia, and see the Hermitage and the Bolshoi Ballet, and Moscow and ride a train across Russia with cockroaches for bedmates and cheap Georgian champagne while listening to the life story of one of the coach matrons who tells you how her parents were collective farmers and she grew up wanting to go to college and become a teacher, but instead, works on the trains. You will visit Moscow University. You will meet many Russian people who are emotional and passionate and good, and kind, and beaten down. You will wonder again, as this is the end of the Cold War, if Russia can learn to be a democracy. You will find out they have trouble holding on to freedom.

You will become discouraged at the selfish, self centered nature of people. Of the rich people who work the system to get what they want, while depriving others of what they need. Greedy pepole who believe freedom is only for them while taking others' freedoms away. People who believe that violence is the only answer and power is everything.

But there will be moments, when the world reveals itself to be a miraculous, beautiful place. When you see deer. When you see random acts of kindness by strangers. When you see selflessness. When you see a tiny flower growing out of concrete, or see a sunset on a prairie in Nebraska, or the Northern Lights in northern Minnesota. At those moments, you will believe in God.

Keep going, be strong, and have faith. It gets better, girlie. You will be much more yourself, more self-confident and you will know what you want when you are almost fifty, but....better late than never. Your whole life will be a sacred pilgrimage to your sense of spirituality, God, and yourself. You get to help people, and love, and be loved.

You get to go home again, and be happy in the end.

On the cursed 10x magnifying mirror, Bob Ross bobble heads and dancing Jesus

I should start out by saying that I intended to go to the store for triple antibiotic. That was all. A simple errand on my day off. As we all understand, a simple errand has a way of ballooning into something else entirely and so it was with this day.

I went to the Christmas Tree Store which for those not in the know, isn't a Christmas store. It's more like the "if we haven't got it you don't need it" store. I went for remember...triple antibiotic. I meandered down the aisles of wall hangings and 4th of July decorations, BBQ sauce and salt lamps. I found the sample aisle where the fact that everything is tiny makes me want to buy it. I did notfind triple antibiotic. What I found instead kept me mesmerized for nearly 15 minutes like a dog who has discovered its reflection in a mirror and thinks it's another dog.

The 10x magnifying mirror. The thing should be outlawed. Every pore in a woman's face looks like the craters of the moon and you see blackheads you never knew existed and hairs in your chin you couldn't see with just your eyeballs. My hand strayed slowly over to the Grooming Kit with tweezers. The good angel on my shoulder said

"You can't use that till you pay for it."

The devil whispered "come on! Nobody's around! Just a quick tweeze of that black hair on your chin that nobody can see with normal eyesight and walk away fast!"

The two argued so loudly I had to shush them. A lady walked by eyeing me strangely. I held up the 10x magnifying mirror like a talisman. She backed away slowly, horrified.

"Get that thing away from me. I don't want to know what's on my face. I prefer the bathroom mirror and lies."

I closed my eyes after she disappeared around the corner, slowly put down the magnifying mirror and the Grooming Kit (unopened, don't worry), and tried not to think about the holes in my face I assiduously scrubbed with Ponds Cleansing Cream nightly under the illusion my face was clean. I did not get triple antibiotic but I did walk out with a car and wall charger set for my Android and iPod.

On to Target where lipsticks danced seductively before me. Again I closed my eyes and walked on buying only triple antibiotic. I congratulated myself and walked to the bookstore where I intended to finish a writing piece for a part time blogging job I have and after that, have some fun.

Then the Bob Ross Bobblehead entered my life. It was a whirlwind romance in which he whispered "I'll be your happy little dashboard decoration bobbing and nodding on your big trip." He mesmerized me with his big hair and big grin. In a weird sort of way he looked like the Dancing Jesus above him and I contemplated the bookstore after closing time when they could leap out of their packages and sit on the shelf discussing happy little trees and how Jesus made the whole earth just so Bob could paint it.

No. I was not, am not and never have been high on substances. I was deep in the middle of Bob and Jesus's philosophical discussion of art and beauty when a little kid loudly said "Excuse me!"

I was blocking the aisle. Again.

I left Dancing Jesus and Bob to wait for closing time and sit at a cafe table about t peruse books I've picked out.

The adventure continues. Tomorrow I will tell you a funny story about the parking ticket man. Not so funny for me but hey. Till then have a good one and don't look in a 10x magnifying mirror. It is a real confidence crusher.

The Girl with Special Knowledge of God and other tales

Today I wasn't feeling so hot. I somehow got a sinus infection so I went to get my medicine and decided to stop off at Target for some organic snack stuff because I didn't feel like cooking.

I should tell you that I love pens. I'm an office supply freak. I couldn't just walk by the stationery aisle without looking at the pens and Sharpie markers and other colorful delights. Like neon colored Post-It notes. That aisle of temptation is where I met my stalker walking opposite towards me.

She was merely a girl. A young girl. I should have known better than to make eye contact. I did. I thought she wanted to get by me.

Nope. She glowed with the aura of a True Believer. She smiled at me. I couldn't stop my face from smiling back. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. That is when she pounced.

I should preface this by saying my longtime readers will understand I have my own faith that I am quite secure in. I also have two degrees in English Literature and Theology, with a concentration in Religious Studies. While education may not be the sum of faith it sure helps to know your Bible. Which came in handy because this girl was about to drop some Secret, Special Knowledge on me.

"Do you know about the Bible as the Word of God?" she asked beaming with a positively beatific expression on her face.

"Why yes. I am quite familiar with the Bible," I responded. It was like pouring gasoline onto a fire.

"Oh...well...I'm sure you don't know about the hidden Word of God in the creation of Man," she replied smugly.

Hidden word of God?I thought. Now I was intrigued. Let's see where this goes.

Noting my interested expression she proceeded to enlighten me that theology schools didn't have the Secret Special Knowledge (herein known as SSK). Neither did any church. "Except mine," she finished triumphantly.

Uh oh. Now I knew we were in for it. Only her church has this SSK. Hm. Cult? Red flag No 1.

"God gave our pastor and only our pastor this SSK. Would you like to see it?

Oh boy would I! She opened her Bible app to Genesis 1:26:

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

With a conspiratorial look she got very close to me and she whispered "Let US. US. God wasn't alone in creating man! Nobody knows this! Nobody teaches this! Who is us?

I suggested "Angels?" She scoffed. "Do you really think God let angels help Him create man?"

I didn't see why not and this is something scholars debate but as I had tossed that out there for fun, I thought it wise to not respond. I took another stab at it.

"Us is God and the Trinity? At this she started.

"How did you know that?"

"I learned that in theology school," I said gently.

"No! Impossible! " She started grilling me on Bible Knowledge and trying to correct me by saying I was not as familiar with the Bible as I thought because God frowns on education and only teaches through the Holy Spirit. And only her church had this Secret Special Knowledge, remember. Suddenly she said I didn't know the Bible in the same wayshe did. The girl was trying to spiritually gaslight me to make me doubt myself and my faith.


By this time I'd had enough and politely excused myself.

It is to me rude to try to convert somebody when they are minding their own business but I get that these types are trying to follow the Great Commission so I can forgive that. But nobody and nobodyhas Secret Special Knowledge and shouldn't claim to in order to take advantage of someone else's ignorance of Scripture and theology.

I spent the rest of the time in the store dodging the Girl with the Special Knowledge and her friend who tried very hard to corral others to share this Secret Special Knowledge and no doubt try to strongarm somebody to come to church.

I don't think I'm the only one who gets annoyed with this and annoyed with the idea that someone else couldn't possibly be happy with their faith and they must be converted to yours. God likes us to be an example to others to show Him to others. He doesn't expect us to weasel or wrassle people to the ground and smack them with the Bible over and over as if you are a child who knows nothing. Scripturally He most certainly does not want people to offend others to the point they want nothing to do with Him or Christians.

Be ever mindful of how you approach people, how you bring the Word to others. Please.

The world is a big place. There are other faiths. Let's respect one another and love one another.

Woman, whole

I do not know what I have reconciled except

a sense of myself which separated from me long ago has come to me lost

in thick northern pines and birches

where we lodged those memories

drowned in wild waves and winds smashing beaches, cliffs and breakwalls.

Lostandfound now are that night I lay on the beach at the Point where the Northern Lights danced in colored shimmers weaving and undulating purples, yellows, pinks and greens across the ink black sky

The wind whispers that I have become one with who I was where I was when fear and rage and pain created who I was

turns out that the illusion was the monster who was really not one at all what is real is

Who I am




wild woman walking on water weaving dreams stars trailing behind me

I wear rage and fear and overcoming stitched in my life-coat of many colors which I wear with defiance and pride and shyness

I dance while

the water sings

Roaring on the shore