One Single Impression: Glory

The prompt for this week's One Single Impression is "glory." I'm not very happy with these - they are not glorious - but they are the best I could squeeze out of my brain this week. I tried to write another poem for autism awareness month also.



Look around my friend
There is glory everywhere
Just open your eyes


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oh morning glory
blossoming at break of day
your beauty stuns me


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The glory of war
Civilians accept the lie
Soldiers know better


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Many thousands dead
Torture, cruelty, lies for greed
War brings no glory


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The wonder of you
Opens my heart in joy
I feel life's glory


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"Glory be," she cried
And I thought "yes indeedy"
It is a grand life


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He is Himself
for Connor

As with any child
There is glory in small things
He's not a label after all,
Not an "ism"
He is himself
Unique, special
Looking for love
Just like the rest of us
Austism is a part of him
But it isn't who he is
Who is he, then?
He is his mother's son
His father's boy
His brother's friend
He is his own glorious and beautiful self
And what more could we ask?

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Saturday Wordzzle Challenge: Week 8

Well, I think I'm going to post on Friday evenings from now on because I realized that some of our participants are in time zones where it's already Saturday so I might as well give them a little more time - and it means people can post as soon as they are ready.

Since this is week 8 of our challenge, I'm going to just get right down to it without any introduction.

The words for this week's ten Word Challenge will be: galaxy, delta, redecorate, dearth, offshoot, Uther Pendragon, cordial, gingerbread, foretold, bonnet And for the Mini Challenge: palliate, functionality, jungle, brass, asphyxiate

Here's my ten-word offering for this week.

Delta Dingwater, from the planet Zong in outer galaxy of the Uther Pendragon Nebula didn't tell many people about her home planet. A noted explorer and anthropologist among her own people on Zong, she had learned early on to blend in. She had been stranded here on earth waiting for the rescue ship for about two years now and was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to explore earth culture in depth. Fortunately Zongian and human anatomy were sufficiently similar that she was able to blend in easily. That said as a planet, Earth was a delightful contrast to the bleak world of Zong. To say there was a dearth of color and plant life on Zong was so far beyond understatement that it made her cry. Much as she was enjoying her time on earth she also looked forward to bringing the wonders of Earth home to her own people. She was convinced that she was to be the savior who had been foretold to her people, whose world had once (according to the history and mythology books) been as lush and wondrous as Earth. She looked forward to introducing Zongians to the wonders of earth's flora - she especially love blue bonnets and tulips, with roses running a close third. And trees. Trees! She could, she liked to muse, redecorate not just her own chort (as houses were called on Zong) but the whole planet with all this new life. And then there was the food. Oh, the food Earthings enjoyed! So many flavors and textures. Beyond the necessities there were magical things like gingerbread, cherry cordial, brownies, ice cream... oh and then brownies and ice cream together... and chocolate chip cookies... and chocolate itself... and beer and pretzles.... she could go on and on. Her research into earth food was extensive. An unfortunate offshoot of this research was that she had grown quite rotund. She would have to do something about that if she was going to fit on into the transport ship home, she mused, nibbling on yet a new food discovery, the glazed donut. Taking another sip of her chocolate milk shake, she thought - foolishly - "how hard can that be?"


And my mini challenge:

Stranded as they were in the depths of the Amazon jungle, there wasn't much the expedition could do for Marco except to offer comfort, water, and a little bourbon to palliate the severity of his symptoms and do what they could to keep him from asphyxiating before the rescue chopper arrived. He had been delirious for two days now, and his ramblings had been most informative, consisting as they did of prolonged monologues on the functionality of brass knuckles and the virtue of infiltrating your enemy's operation so you could make a hit from the inside. He had also cried a good deal and asked God why he should be taken now, when he had given up crime and was trying to do good. Luckily for him those tending to him spoke very little English as was also true of the helicopter crew when they arrived to rescue him, so perhaps, God was, after all, giving him a second chance.

Mega challenge was a super challenge for me this week - in fact all of them were - but here's what I wrote:

When the magnificent ship Uther Pendragon ran aground on the delta near Margaret's house she was thrilled and excited by having a little drama to palliate the boredom of living alone in a tiny backwater town and by the proximity of a ship full of lonely men. The dearth of eligible men in Tyler Mills (which was a tiny offshoot of the minimally larger town of Tylerville) was profound. So Margaret happily did what she could to redecorate so her little house would look it's best, hanging the new curtains she had been saving and putting some tulips and blue bonnets into an old brass bowl whose functionality she had questioned until now. Then she baked up some some biscuits and some gingerbread men, made a fine stew, set out a bottle of cherry cordial, doused herself in so much perfume that she was in danger of asphyxiating everyone in a 5 mile radius or possibly even in the galaxy and waited happily for the first visitors she knew would soon arrive across the jungle-like marsh that led from where the ship was stranded straight to her house. What she could not have foretold was that among the sailors who arrived at her door, would be Ned Witherspoon, the man of her dreams or that his ship's Captain, Admiral Jacks (a man with adventure in his soul and romance in his heart) would marry them before setting off to sea again a week later.

This words for this week's vanity wordzzle (something I wrote a long time ago and am sharing here because it's the only way anyone will ever read it) are: Linoleum, jade, giraffe, candle, kitty, Mr. Potato Head, aloe, wishes, incense, iron

I will always remember the first time I visited Martha’s house. I had thought her quite an ordinary person, and I suppose in many ways she was. She was a secretary. Her wardrobe was neither exotic nor prudish. She was quiet and pleasant, smiled easily, but also always seemed to be holding something back. That holding back was probably why I accepted her invitation to coffee that Monday evening after my third group therapy session. I was pretty depressed and to be honest I figured even anything was better than going home to my own lonely prison. So, anyway, I said yes. And you know how you somehow usually imagine what a person’s home will be. I always kind of figure that people dress themselves kind of the way they dress their houses, so I expected it to be beiges and neutral colors, nothing too memorable. Boy, was I wrong. I guess the first thing that hits you when you walk into Martha’s place is the color. And the rich smell of incense. And the thousand little details. But then, the next thing, the thing that always stays with you, with me, anyway, is the altar – or maybe Shrine is a better word. First off, it’s big. I mean really big, like a whole corner of the room, but shaped like a triangle with the middle cut out, so you can sit inside of it. And it’s built in tiers – three, I think, each maybe six inches deep and probably a foot tall, so it kind of rises up around you. There are three big cushions in the middle space, really plush and each one a different color and texture, so they are like different moods that touch your eye. And there are all sorts of candles, dozens of them. But it’s the objects that sit in various places that really make it both strange and magnificent. There’s a holiness about the space that makes the oddness of her artifacts seem quite normal. It is quite unnerving and yet somehow healing. I don’t know how to explain it, but let me tell you some of what she has there. The first thing I noticed was an old, half-broken Mr. Potato Head and next to that this exquisite porcelain flower sitting on a square of red linoleum. Then there was an odd little jade kitty, a baseball, a stuffed giraffe, a funny little black iron kettle which I guess was for burning incense, lots of crystals in different shapes and colors and sizes, some angels, a carved snake, and oh, a bunch of animals, then a whole host of photographs scattered all around. Some in frames, some just lying there. A lot of them were of her as a child, but there were some other children too, another iron pot that said wishes and had a had paper and a pen sitting next to it. Then there were the plants, all kinds. Ferns, violets and one aloe plant that I especially remember because I had never seen one with a flower before. It was awesome, like this work of art, like a soul spilling out of itself, mourning and rejoicing, remembering and forgetting, discovering and releasing all at once. Just looking at it was a religious experience – and I like to think I’m an atheist. All she said was, “I thought you’d like it. We can have our coffee here, if you’d like.” It was good she said that, because I couldn’t have torn myself away, it was that special, like love poured out of it and washed over you. “Make a wish,” she said, “make as many as you want and then just say thank you when you put them in the pot. You’ll be surprised at how well it works.” It was one of the best nights I’ve ever had. Like everything was magic. She told me all about every item on the altar and how she had built it and why and taught me how to create my own, which I have done – am doing. It was an amazing experience. I never saw her again after that, though. She didn’t come back to group and when I asked some other people about her they didn’t seem to even remember who she was. But I’ll never forget her.

Anyone who wants to emulate the amazing megawordzzlers can try merging both challenges and make another megawordzzle. It's fun! I'm so glad that Jay Simser invented it.

Next week's words are again a mix of suggestions that came from Jay, The Pirate, Michael and Richard and I tossed in a few of my own. Suggestions for words/phrases from other participants are always welcome. Also any advice/suggestions on how to make the process easier would me much appreciated.

Next Week's Ten Word Challenge will be: cocker spaniel, penultimate, fetters, warranty, tarmac, quartz, paparazzi, apple sauce, earsplitting, laxidaisical

And for the Mini Challenge: spinach, interwoven, compromise, tennis, intangible


Thanks for playing. For those who are new, here are some guidelines to make the process more fun.

Enjoy! See you next week.

DON'T FORGET TO ADD YOUR NAME TO MR. LINKY!!!!!

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

The Memory of an Old Friend

I was going to write about the nature of time today, but for whatever reason, I can't get it to come out right, so I think I will make a small tribute to an old friend. Recently, through the miracle of Facebook, I reconnected with an old college friend, Lynda, who I hadn't heard from in years. She, her then husband and I and two other friends shared a house during my junior year in college. It was one of the best times in my college life, probably in my whole life. They were all wonderfully creative and good people and we had fun together. I have a few favorite memories of our days together.

One is dressing up in Victorian (or Victorian-ish) costumes for the Literary Journal photo. I was so shy and reserved that this was a big deal for me. I wish my scanner worked. It's a very silly photo but we had a great time making it.

My second memory is one I bore my friends with any time we play games. The five of us who lived in the house used to play Clue and other games with some regularity. I don't know what it is about me and Clue, but I almost always win. One afternoon we had played a few games and I was all set to win yet again, but I had to go to the bathroom. I returned, smugly announced that so-in-so did it in wherever with whatever the weapon was. Pulling the cards out of their little packet, I was stunned to discover that I was completely wrong. How could this be? I was so sure.... Well, of course, they had taken advantage of my absence to switch the cards. I thought it was wonderfully funny then and it still makes me laugh just thinking about it. It probably isn't that funny to anyone else. But it's one of my favorite stories so I have to share it. We laughed a lot in that house on Forest Avenue. I was as happy there as I was capable of being at the time.

The other thing that Greg and Lynda taught me was a profound life lesson. I had the delusional belief that I was luckier than everyone else on the planet and I used to like to treat us to things once in a while, especially home make chocolates from a little shop around the corner from our house. One day I was about to buy us a treat and they said, "let us do it." I started to argue with them about it and they said. "Did it ever occur to you that since it gives you so much pleasure to do this, it might give us pleasure to do it too?" I've never forgotten that. Receiving is also a way of giving. Generosity has many faces.

Greg, was a gifted artist and a beloved friend. In reconnecting with Lynda, I learned that he was murdered at about this time twenty years ago. I'm not sure of the exact date. I had spoken with him not long before and we had planned to get together for coffee and then we never did. I learned about his death - but not his murder - in the same week that my sister was murdered.

One other memory I have of those days is learning that Greg had a twin brother and that he had been killed in Vietnam. Daughter of an alcoholic, that night was one of two in my life when I got black-out drunk. I wish I didn't remember any of it. I can't imagine the pain Greg's parents have gone through to lose not just one son, but two to the worst kinds of violence this world has to offer. That is too cruel.

Anyway, yesterday I took a photo - not the best, I'm afraid, of an etching that Greg gave to me almost forty years ago when he and I were young and had no idea that the future would bring such violence into our lives. I wrote a poem for it at the time. It's not a very good poem and at 60 seems kind of like an amusing thing for my 20-year-old self to have written, but I will share it anyway.

FROM AN ETCHING BY GREGORY JACKSON

Sleeping, my youth lies dead
Beneath the dust and cobwebs of old age
The pale head, cushioned by tattered rags
of unspent dreams
Lies musing peacefully
And I, in mourning,
Stand behind the net of slender threads
Afraid to rouse him from that useless slumber

- Katherine E. Rabenau

Thank you, Greg, for having been my friend. I know you are with the angels.

Poem of the Week

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Wordless Wednesday: Signs of Spring

Hopefully Spring will come soon. At least there are signs now that it is on the way.

Happy Wordless Wednesday

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I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Heads or Tails Tuesday: Expression Elephant Style

Well, I was going to skip Skittles' Heads or Tails Tuesday today because I'm feeling lazy and beyond. Thought I'd just post this little You-Tube Video that someone sent me in my email a few days back. And then I realized I can be lazy and have my Head or Tails Tuesday too, since this little elephant is certainly expressing him/herself in a most remarkable way. I have to admit that it never occurred to me that an elephant could paint with a portrait... Ah, I love it when I get to cheat. I hope you enjoy this.

The Alphabet Backwards: An Assortment of "U's"

Well, of course the obvious word for U is umbrella, but since I never leave the house, umbrellas are kind of meaningless to me. Truth is, even when I was out in the big world, I didn't much care for umbrellas. They seem like more trouble than they are worth. I tended to lose them and when I did use them, they either blew inside out or didn't seem to keep me very dry. I'd just as soon get wet. So that takes care of umbrellas.

Then I though about ubiquitous, but really other than the saying that it's a cool sounding word which means "existing everywhere at the same time," there isn't much to say. It really is a great word, though. Had to mention it.

Next we have upset. I have a fair amount to say about this one. I have been very upset for the past few days. Last Thursday, I got a thing in the mail from my bank saying I bounced a check - guess it didn't bounce, it just "reverberated," but the bank gets to punish me $30 worth. My SSD money just gets me through the month and I am - well I THOUGHT I was - very careful about being sure my checks are covered. I can't figure out what I did wrong and that alone freaks me out. My mind being the creative little stinker that it is, has created a variety of scenarios of doom and destruction. These range from identity theft, my SSD has been taken away and nobody told me, I'm going to lose my house.... Oh, my mind goes on and on in ever deeping and crazier circles. I know that it's all insane. I reason with myself. I remind myself that everyting is correctable. I remind myself that people make mistakes. Do I listen? Sort of. Sometimes. So I'm already freaked out and on Saturday I get ANOTHER letter from the bank. Saying something about $116 and telling me that they are taking ANOTHER $30. Now I'm convinced that my identity has been stolen and/or that SSD is punishing me for something. I see myself homeless. I even went to - my imagination is a wonder - the idea that maybe I'd been reported dead. Where that came from is a mystery. It's the way my mind works when it is at it's most upset and dysfunctional. Mercifully my friends came over yesterday and as I talked through the two letters from the bank, it seems - you would not believe how badly these letters are done - that both refer to the same check. It's still unclear (another nice "u" word) whether they are going to charge me $30 twice, but at least it seems that only one check bounced. Only. Ugh. I'm not agoraphobic for nothing. I'm still trying to work up my courage to call the bank and see if I can clarify what happened. I did call to check my balance in between the two letters from the bank and my disability money was there and enough money that I sent out payment for my bills. Of course, I am still in a panic that everything is going to bounce and that my I'm never going to recover. Agh. It is so annoying being me some days.

This is all more stressful because I applied for an Amazon.com Visa card a while back (to get that $30 discount). They eventually approved me since despite having no money, I have great credit. I kind of forgot all about it and then I got a call - at about the same time the overdraft letter came - from some woman in India or Pakistan saying that the credit card kept being returned to them and that it was being sent to an address in Philadelphia or something like that. That kind of freaked me out too. That panicky part of me that doesn't cope with things still hasn't called Amazon.com, though I've checked the site to make sure nothing has been charged that I didn't buy and to delete all my financial information. The credit card, which was supposed to be sent to my correct address still hasn't arrived.

Urgent is another good "u" word. You'd think that given my hysteria about the above, the urgency of the need for coping with it, that I would have been on the phone to the bank first thing this morning, that I would have contacted Amazon.com last week. This is where my panic disorder really makes me crazy - or proves that I'm really crazy. I keep thinking about it, but I keep not acting, as though maybe if I sit really still and don't move, it will all go away. I hate this quality in myself. Panic may spur some people to action. It paralyzes me. In the old days, when I still lived in New York, when I still tried to leave my house, a huge aspect of my panic was that I became literally almost paralyzed. My muscles would get so tight that I could barely move, my back would be agonzingly painful. My legs would feel like jello and move like stone. My chest would constrict so badly that I could hardly breathe. And people wonder why I don't like going out.

Anyway, I'm hoping that by putting this out there, I will force myself to act. In reality, I think everything is fine and this is one of those convergences of stupid things that are either random events or little progress tests from the universe to see if I've really got the positive thinking thing down. I'm guessing that I'm not getting a very high grade. I might pass, but there is no A plus showing up on this crisis report card.

Well, I guess I could have titled today's post "True Confessions Under the Letter U."

Maybe I should end with something more upbeat - hah! another U word... they are everywhere! But I'll go with ukelele and a haiku


ukele songs
transport me to Hawaiian shores
a dream vacation

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I was so unnerved (another U!) by airing my insanity, that I almost forgot to mention Autism Awareness month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.



These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

One Single Impression: Stranded

The prompt for this week's One Single Impression is "Stranded." This seems to have tapped into my gloomy side. I thought about trying to art this week's poems up but they are very different from each other and I couldn't think of a way to do it, so... just stuck with naked words this week. The last poem is not haiku or even quasi-haiku, but is my effort to acknowledge Autism Awareness Month. I hope you'll visit the sites I have listed and find out a little bit more about a condition that very few of us understand.


Stranded on the shore
Does the old boat long to sail
On waves of memory?


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Too often alone
Stranded in my baseless fears
Agoraphobic


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She does not know him
The old man plaiting her hair
Strand by strand with love


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stranded by autism's cruel grasp
locked inside himself
he circles, rocks or flaps his hands
his mother hugs him with her voice
because he cannot handle touch
or look her in the eyes
he does not speak a lot
but he can hear her love
can feel it with his heart
love is so much bigger
than the limitations we put on it
when we are ready to learn
he will teach us





I hope you will all take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel
Look Me In The Eye

Saturday Wordzzle Challenge: Week 7

Well, I think I'm going to post on Friday evenings from now on because I realized that some of our participants are in time zones where it's already Saturday so I might as well give them a little more time - and it means people can post as soon as they are ready.

Since this is week 7 of our challenge, I'm going to just get right down to it without any introduction.

The words for this week's ten Word Challenge were: fruitcake, necromancer, gibberish, marshland, Lone Ranger, hog-wild, effluvia, plaintiff, phonograph, fern. And for the Mini Challenge: frozen, history, myrmidon, Shylock, incapacitated

Please remember to add your name to Mr. Linky down at the bottom of the post. Jay Simser sent me his wordzzle, but he also has it posted on his site, so I've added his name to Mr. Linky. You may have to hunt a little for it, but it's there and excellent as always. I do have one email megawordzzle contribution from my friend Dan. Dan doesn't have a blog, so he'll just have to check in here and if he chooses, share his email for any feedback. Here's his contribution:

It was New York City 1897, Dr. Rupert G. Rowens was seated in his office reviewing the previous week's paperwork. In the distance a faint sound of a phonograph played the latest Italian opera. Like a gust of wind the door shot open slightly ruffling the leaves of a nearby fern. There stood Sidney Lucas like some by product of a necromancer only to gallop in like the Lone Ranger from some distant marshland. Dr. Rowens sat there frozen in his chair, it only took a second to realize they were not alone. Sidney a fierce Shylock amongst his peers felt the need to bring along one of his goons, a mere myrmidon to Dr. Rowens. Effy (short for Effluvia due to the dogs offensive and untimely expels of gas) the doctor's faithful chihuahua came running to the scene. The doctor hurriedly quieted the dog from going hog-wild. Sidney was there to collect on a debt. In a recent court case the doctor had taken part in for a good friend he had offered to pay the minor debt for the plaintiff. Dr. Rowens invited them in and offered them some fruitcake and tea. The men sat rather abruptly and seemed on edge. The doctor spoke only for a few minutes before Sidney demanded his money. Dr. Rowens assured the men that he had the money and left the room to retrieve it. The doctor traveled up the stairs and into his private study. He proceeded to remove the history books from the shelf unmasking a wall safe. He removed 5000 dollars and replaced the books before making his way back down to Sidney and his goon. He sat at his desk and handed him the money he assured him that it was all there and implored him to count it so he did. Sidney and his goon decided it was time to leave but just before reaching the door they both became a bit peculiar and they looked back at the doctor, they tried to speak but gibberish is all that left their lips.The doctor said "Good fruitcake isn't it" Only seconds passed before they were on the floor and fully incapacitated. The doctor merely sat at his desk calmly and at ease. Mrs. Rowens walked in and said "Dammit Rupert, how do you expect me to keep this office clean when you keep leaving the cities scum around".

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I tried something different for this week's ten word challenge:

He was a lawyer extra-ordinaire
A hog-wild Lone Ranger
Defender of plaintiffs, terror of felons
So eloquent he could make gibberish sound grand
He called political speak effluvia and railed against it
He kept up with the times; he loved new things
But also mourned his old phonograph records
Lover of ferns and marshlands and all things wild
A fruitcake necromancer, amazing chef
Dark sorcerer who stole my heart
How will I live without him?

Here's my mini:

Shylock Jones had tried to trick the family "tradition" (aka curse) when he named his daughter Myrmidon. Horrible names were a family custom that dated back through generations of family history. Nobody knew how it started, but there was a superstition among his people that to betray the tradition would lead to disaster. Myrmidon had at least sounded pretty, he thought. Most people wouldn't know the word or it's meaning. He had never counted on her reaction, had not thought it would impact her the way it did. Now he stood beside her suicide's grave, frozen and incapacitated with grief, thinking that the only way to escape this pain would be to join her.

And my megawordzzle:

Sarah smith loved words more than anything - except maybe music... and history. History was pretty cool. But back to words. Words were music as far as she was concerned. Sometimes she would sing songs made up of the gibberish of her favorite words all strung together.... to the tune of the Lone Ranger's theme song and other tunes... marshlands, myrmidon, necromancer, fruitcake... and sing me a song of phonographs, effluvia and hog-wild ferns she would chant. Today she was reading Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice and at the moment was circling the room reciting Shylock's famous "Hath not a Jew eyes?" speech. Awesome she gasped, as she came to the end and stood frozen in her tracks. The plaintiff rests. Then with a theatrical gasp, she looked over at her cat Chaucer and sank with a dramatic thump onto her favorite chair. "Chaucer, my friend," she murmurred, "I am incapacitated by the power of these words. They are too beautiful. Let me rest a moment and then I will read you some more." As if he understood perfectly, Chaucer curled up next to her purring and waited quietly for her to begin again.

This week's vanity wordzzle (old stuff nobody will get to read unless I add it here) was created from the words: maelstrom, crab, totality, stucco, green tea, periphery, bookends, truncate, prioritize

Conrad sat in total stillness in the center of his Japanese garden, so deep in meditation that he remained oblivious to the maelstrom of activity around him. The garden was exquisite, designed with such a masterful eye for detail that although the many plants and trees were laid out in such a way as to keep the eye interested and moving, the totality was none-the-less calming to the senses. It was a masterpiece of beauty - from the crab shaped fountains that sat like bookends at each end of the walk, to the miniature cherry trees that lined the periphery and separated the glass-roofed garden from the stucco walls of the house which surrounded it. He had even planted seeds so that he could eventually harvest leaves for the tea ceremony - the special green tea had been ritually planted before anything else. The garden had become his obsession, his love and his solace. "We have to prioritize, Madge," he had told his gentle, long-suffering wife. And so they had truncated plans for her study and the pool for the kids and a few vacations. Even her return to school had been put on hold. So complete was Conrad's absorption in the garden that he did not hear the screaming twins or the three-month-old; he did not let the piles of dirty laundry or the sink full of dirty dishes distress him, but simply headed blissfully to his garden. Alas, he also failed, on this particular night, to see Madge, wild-eyed and totally mad, moving towards him with a long, sharp kitchen knife.

NEXT WEEK'S CHALLENGE

Anyone who wants to emulate the amazing megawordzzlers can try merging both challenges and make another megawordzzle. It's fun. Do all three and triple your fun.

This weeks words are a mix of suggestions that came from Jay, The Pirate, Michael and Richard (check out his A to Z idea) - and I tossed a couple in myself. I would LOVE to have more suggestions for words/phrases from other participants. Also any advice/suggestions on how to make the process easier would me much appreciated. I'm new to the blogosphere and still clumsy at navigating it in some ways. I mixed their suggestions together just to make it more interesting.

Next Week's Ten Word Challenge will be: galaxy, delta, redecorate, dearth, offshoot, Uthar Pendragon, cordial, gingerbread, foretold, bonnet
And for the Mini Challenge: palliate, functionality, jungle, brass, asphyxiate

Thanks for playing. For those who are new, here are some guidelines to make the process more fun.

Enjoy! See you next week.

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO ADD YOUR NAME TO
MR. LINKY!!!!!

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Just a reminder to everyone, when you are done with your wordzzles, take a minute to remember that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days
Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique
Mother of Shrek
Full Soul Ahead
Down River Drivel

Honored

Well, it's a rainy day and was I not very happy with my post today and I'm tired and generally just a big whine and then along came The Teach and infused some sunshine and gratitude into my the situation. This graphically beautiful award was created by Greatfullivin at the Gratitude Journal blog. I'll let you go visit her site for the full description, but here's an exceprt from her description:

"... Gratitude ...is not about a passive attitude. It’s about learning. It’s about seeing things different, having new eyes! Gratitude is about keeping that happy positive outlook on life…even when things don’t go the way we want them to. It is not about giving in, lying down or accepting everybody else’s rules it’s about making your own rules!... Gratitude IS Attitude!"

Anyway, many thanks to The Teach for thinking of me and reminding me on a day when I was feeling more frustrated than grateful that I can choose how I feel about life, living ... and even today. And many thanks also to everybody who visits Raven's Nest and leaves a kind word of reassurance or recognition.

I'd like to pass this award on to a few special people. I haven't been around the blogosphere for that long but am choosing five people who seem to me to embody generosity and gratitude in their daily living and who have been very kind to me in my daily blogging.

Dianne at Forks Off the Road

Jay at Bailey's Buddy

Linda at These are the Days

Michael at Michael Manning.TV

Kim at Ramblings of 40-Something Empy Nester


There are so many others who are deserving but I can't choose everyone. Awards make me really happy and also kind of anxious, so I have not yet really dealt with another award I received in the past week - the E for Excellent Award - that Dianne so generously nominated me for (and compared me to Katherine Hepburn of all people... how cool is that?) So... I thought I'd pass THAT award on to the following people:


To Sandy Carlson and Andree - for One Single Impression, a blog which offers a weekly haiku prompt and spurred my imagination and creativity with one word each week.

Billy at Chapter and Verse already has an E is for Excellence, but he's such a good poet - and he compliments my poetry. I love compliments.

Michael at Everything in Particular because he has a great sense of humor and a passion for supporting his friends.

Michelle at Full-Soul-Ahead because she shares from her heart and it is a heart full of love.


Guess that's it... Getting awards is an exhausting responsibility and very hard on me because I want to give one to EVERYBODY so nobody's feelings get hurt. I didn't add my wonderful nieces to this list, though I added them in my heart.

Diana has three blogs: Vegan Girl, High Tech Survivor and Food Scout which is an awesome website with a blog attached to it. And Cindy has three also: Life in my Noggin, Team Wines and Sc2toggers which she and Linda (snoopmurph) are not (been very quiet there lately) co-writing.

The Circle Game

I'm a word person and sometimes a new word gets stuck in my head. This week, I've been reading my friend Linda's posts about autism and one of the things she wrote about was something called "stimming." Stimming is a way that autistic children (and really all of us on earth) find to cope with feelings of stress. For autistic children, it might involve flapping their hands and sometimes - as in the case of her young son - walking in circles. For myself, I play computer games or watch TV. If I could walk, I might pace, but that's not an option any more.

Anyway, Linda's article on stimming was in my head last night as sweet Tara Grace acted out the damage of her early life in her kitty version of stimming which involves muttering and circling the house, around and around and around... sometimes she just circles the window and my desk, making sure to stomp on my keyboard over and over (aggggh). I was watching a movie on the computer last night and she managed at one point to mute it. After I spent 10 minutes figuring out how to undo that not too good naturedly, I might add - she did it again. Within minutes of the movie's end, she stepped on something that took it right back to the start. Ironically, at the moment of this little act of torture the human, a little girl in the movie was singing Joni Mitchell's magnificent song, "The Circle Game."

After my very very worst self emerged and shrieked at poor Tara for just being herself, and as guilt and embarrassment at my reaction set in, my brain made a link to her behavior and stimming. Tara, I thought, is kind of like a feline version of a very mildly autistic child, only because she's a cat and not a child it's so very different. There's an element of humor in it. Her routine is so relentless, her muttering so passionate... it can make me laugh. It also worries me, though. Some days I feel like she will wear herself out and I feel so sad because she's not able to allow hugs. She will sometimes stop for petting - I think that's what she's seeking ultimately - some form of comfort. She's still too damaged from her early life to allow hugs. I can't pick her up and hold. I can't soothe her stress.

And I was thinking that this is just the tiniest taste of what it must be like for parents with autistic children. Tara Grace, after all, is a cat. She is my child equivalent, but she lives a cat's life. Nobody judges her for her circles. If anything they endear her to my friends. And she does not have to go out into the world. No ignorant adults or foolish children will stare at her or judge her because she's "different." She will never have to cope with the realities of operating in a world that doesn't always welcome eccentricity. Tara Grace won't have to go to school. She won't have to face the insanity of puberty with the extra burden of being different. She is safe here and sheltered from the difficulties of the wider world. As my cat, she is an eternal child and while I may worry about her, I know she's going to be ok.

I don't know how parents of even "typical" children do it, how they balance the joy and fear and responsibility of parenting. It has always seemed wrong to me that the "game" of life should be harder for some than others. At the same time I try to feel empathy for people struggling with the pain and beauty of their autistic children, I realize that I don't have a clue or a hint of a clue as to what it's really like. I have so much to learn.

I am anxious about this post. I don't know if I should post it. I don't want anyone to think that I'm comparing my cat to their children, that I am making light of something so serious and painful. I'm not. Obviously I've decided to post it in spite of my reservations. I tried to change the subject but it has refused to change and I've found that when that happens, there is usually some purpose that I don't understand. So I will risk it and hope that there is some value in these words that I can't hear through my anxiety and with the plea of forgiveness if I have offended in any way.

Just because I love it so much, I thought I'd share the Circle Game and it's lyrics. We really are all on a circling carousel in some ways. I've heard life compared to an onion where you peel away the layers as you move through experience. Either way - carousel of onion - it is an amazing ride.

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star
Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, when youre older, must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and dawn
Were captive on the carousel of time
We cant return we con only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him,
Take your time, it wont be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and dawn
Were captive on the carousel of time
We cant return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur
Coming true
Therell be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
Were captive on the carousel of time
We cant return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Poem of the Week

Years and years ago, when I visited the Frick Gallery in New York City and saw this painting, I changed my mind about reincarnation. Until then, I was pretty skeptical about the idea. But when I saw this painting, I KNEW - I absolutely KNEW that I had known this person. My connection to the painting was so intense that it stunned me. It wasn't a feeling. It was a certainty. In those days in particular, I was not a person who was certain about anything much, so this was a pretty life-altering experience.

At some point not too long after seeing the painting, I wrote today's poem. Then a few year's after that, I had the opportunity to have a session (another life-changing experience) with a not yet famous psychic named Pat Rodegast who channeled a spirit named Emmanuel. I highly recommend Emmanuel's Book. It is one of my all time favorite ever books. It radiates love and healing truths about life. It doesn't matter what you think about channeling or reincarnation... it doesn't matter whether it's channeled or made up... it's a beautiful book and the material reads like poetry. I wish everyone on earth would read it. How's that for a statement. Back when I read it, I kept giving it away to people and buying replacement copies. I love that book. Think I'll go pull it off the shelf if I haven't given it away again and look through it again. It has been a while.

But I digress (what else is new?)... I took a postcard copy of this painting with me to the session with Pat/Emmanuel and asked if her what she felt about it. She said this was me in another life. I don't know if that's true or not. I kind of liked the idea of having a great romance in some other life since there hasn't been one in this one. Still out of luck. But I love his face, so I'm guessing it must have been a pretty good life. Anyway, I guess that's probably more than enough of an introduction. Here's the poem.


MEMLING'S PORTRAIT OF A MAN

I see your face

Staring across centuries of canvas

And I am drawn through time by your magnetism

I know I loved you once, or would have,

You look so much a part of me

With that quiet fanaticism

Maybe we were lovers in another incarnation

And it was so fine that neither of us has forgotten

In the five hundred years since you were you

And I, whoever I was then.


- Katherine E. Rabenau

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Just a reminder to everyone that this is Autism Awareness Month. The following blogs and posts offer an opportunity to put a human face and heart on something which for most of us is just something we have heard about but don't really understand.

These are the Days

Forks Off the Moment - We are All Unique

Mother of Shrek

Full Soul Ahead

Down River Drivel - this site will lead you to a dozen more...

Wordless Wednesday Clouds - Part Two: Forgot One

I thought this was cool... it's not photo shop... it's real...

Wordless Wednesday: Clouds

Happy Wordless Wednesday

Heads or Tails Tuesdayand Some Thoughts on Autism Awareness Month

Well, I brooded and pondered and wondered and thought about different ways to approach today's Heads or Tails Tuesday post hosted by Skittles. I thought about writing about the Fool in the Tarot Deck, about the Native American "wise fool" heyoka, similar to the court jesters of the Middle Ages. I had a couple of other ideas, but all of them required more effort than this poor fool was willing to put into it, so I decided to go for quotes, especially because I also wanted to talk about something totally not related to fools. But lets get the fools out of the way first. Here are some wonderful quotes on the subject for your entertainment:

“It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.” - Mark Twain

Abraham Lincoln said much the same thing: "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt."

"Only a fool tests the water with both feet." - African Proverb

“Any fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius-and a lot of courage-to move in the opposite direction.” - Albert Einstein

“He who asks a question is a fool for five minutes; he who does not ask a question remains a fool forever” - Chinese Proverb

“I must learn to love the fool in me the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.” - Theodore Isaac Rubin

Theodore Isaac Rubin also said this, which I thought was very wise: "The problem is not that there are problems. The problem is expecting otherwise and thinking that having problems is a problem."

"Even a fool knows you can't touch the stars, but it doesn't stop a wise man from trying." - Harry Anderson

I add this one with some bitterness, although I didn't vote for the current non-elected president either time he stole the office: "Vote: the instrument and symbol of a freeman's power to make a fool of himself and a wreck of his country." - Ambrose Bierce

"A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees." - William Blake

"The serpent, the king, the tiger, the stinging wasp, the small child, the dog owned by other people, and the fool: these seven ought not to be awakened from sleep. " - Chanakya

"The cleverest of all, in my opinion, is the man who calls himself a fool at least once a month. "
- Fyodor Dostoevsky

"Mix a little foolishness with your prudence: It's good to be silly at the right moment." - Horace

"Our wisdom comes from our experience, and our experience comes from our foolishness." - Sacha Guitry

I love quotes and I could go on and on, but I'll stop here because there are more important things to talk about.

It's Autism Awareness Month

My very wonderful and very wise young friend Linda (aka Snoopmurph) whose blog These are the Days is well worth reading on any day, for it's gentle wisdom and its reflection of the beautiful soul who writes it, is writing this month on Autism Awareness. She is the mother of a young cute, sweet young son with Autism and is on a learning journey of how to best nurture and nourish the spirit of young Connor and also be fair to her older son Ian, who is not autistic. From what I can see, she and her husband are awesome parents on all fronts. I hope you'll join her on this month's exploration of Autism.

Oddly, the subject of autism came up right here in my little house in Hancock this morning in conversation with the kind gentleman who supplies me with food. I always try to respect synchronicity, so I'll share the story here as best I can and hope that it was given to me for some purpose.

A little background: Eight years ago, when I was living in Arizona, a friend of mine out there had a son - the magnificent Nicholas - who has a form of Autism called Asperger's Syndrome. Nicholas and I became great friends during my 18 months in Arizona. I practice a kind of healing called reiki and I sometimes use my voice in something called (or that's what I call it) "toning," when I reiki certain people. Nicholas loved reiki and he especially loved the sound. When I decided to move back to New York State, Nicholas was a bit upset, so I put some of my toning on a tape for him. I had that tape running this morning though I almost never listen to it - synchronicity again - when Tom, the Schwann's man, arrived with my groceries. I discovered a while back that Tom makes and plays Native American flutes and we have talked about that on a number of occasions. When he heard the tape and said - "oh, your listening to flute music" (How's that for a cool compliment?) - I told him the story behind the tape and he told me the following story from his days on the Pow Wow circuit. He gave me permission to share it. I will do so here as best I can, but know that I have not really done it justice.

Years ago, Tom was selling his flutes at a Pow Wow in Oklahoma He was sitting playing one of his flutes to entertain himself and pass the time for a while, and also watching the people coming and going. He noticed one young couple and their young son as they walked along. He said he could tell that the boy was a little different in some way from the way - he wasn't sure how - from his body language, probably. Anyway, the boy was just following along with his parents, but not really seeming engaged in the world around him. As the family neared Tom's booth and the sound of the flute became audible, the little boy stopped dead in his tracks, clearly mesmerized by the sound, completely focussed and absorbed. His parents were thrilled by this and explained to Tom their son was severely autistic and that it was always exciting for them when their he made that kind of intense connection. When Tom stopped playing, the boy didn't want to leave (Tom tells this story so much better than I do) and so he played a bit more and then on impulse, asked the parents if he could give their son one of his flutes. They were thrilled to accept since they couldn't afford to buy one themselves. He said the boy just stood there and hugged that flute like it was the most precious thing in the world. He didn't try to play it, but stood there hugging it and hugging it, looking ecstatic. And then - I was already crying at this point - he ran around the table, threw his arms around Tom and shouted "Thank You!" - the first words he had spoken in three years, according to his parents.

This story speaks to me in so many ways. It speaks of the pain and isolation of autism and how hard it must be for parents to have their beloved children locked away from them. It speaks of the power of music. And of course, it speaks to me of the power of simple acts of kindness and the power of love.

I don't really know very much about autism. I know that my young friend Nicholas has as heart as big as the world. I'm learning a bit more as I read Linda's posts about her son Connor and the journey she and her family are taking along with him. Autism is so prevalent these days that I doubt anyone reading these words doesn't know an autistic child or have a friend or family member who is living with and loving an autistic child. It would be wise for all of us to learn more about this condition. I hope you will join Linda as she explores autism all this month.