Humanity

Fiddlesticks

Sandman Universe Cover Unwifedmotherexpletivethis is not to be confused with fiddleheads. one is edible, at a particular time of year, and one is not.

fiddlesticks is what you say when you are trying not to swear, and something is frustrating in a fairly benign but relentless sort of way.

(the way i’m feeling about my ears and their continuing saga is not benign, and is aggressive and full of paralyzing fear and despair. fyi)

fiddlesticks pertains to the kid who stayed home sick today, mostly as a result of exhaustion from Daylight Savings Time and an overly exciting weekend with Dad, in which sleep was just a third or fourth thought. or 12th, i don’t know.

fiddlesticks, baby.

-because the world is in something of a tizzy about the new flu, it makes me re-tell stories about my grandmother, the lovely of my life, who won Mother of the Year, for real, sometime in the 60s, and wrote letters to the newspaper about how kids who were sick should not be attending school, for the health of the community. so i’m there, quoting my long dead grandmother in hopes of winning the prize of a healthier community.  think it will work?

i’m tired. i’ve been reading, but its been magazines, a few wordless picture books and oooh, a beautiful comic.  yes, really. LM is a junkie of the comic book sort so i found myself at a huge sale this weekend.  Because i cannot stand in the midst of so much reading material and close my eyes, i asked which were the most visually stunning, because i thought that was a good place to start.

and so.  i give you Neil Gaiman’s comic book.   The, yes, Neil Gaiman.  you aren’t really surprised if you’ve read much of him. I know.  What I did was buy two copies of the same story, with different beautiful covers.  Because I am going to cut one of them up and use it, as my own art.

because i am a deviant.

Then, i read Return by Aaron Becker. (not from the comic book store, but of a family…since it is a wordless picture book) I’ve tried to capture the feeling of his illustrations in colors of my own, in wildly less beautiful paintings. . .   SO GORGEOUS.

sigh. the other beauty of a comic book is Silver Surfer Black Treasury Edition, which is so vibrant it almost knocks you over.

I’m not gonna kid you. My brain is not clicking along at its normal rate, but these are some gorgeous works of art, masquerading as fluff.  don’t be a fool and fall for it.

so there. and yes, i will figure out how to share illustrations, or my photos of these things, because man, oh man, my eyes are thirsty.

Silver Surfer Black Cover Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

 

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Humanity

Reading and Avoidance

I’m chugging through the books.  Because, really, I love to read… Just finished ‘The Hazel Wood’which is YA Fantasy by Melissa Albert.  I dug it.  Well-written, creepy, and darkly fairytale-d. And it stands alone, which I appreciate in a curmudgeonly way.  I love series, but man, sometimes I just want a completed story, in one package.

Of course, when I go to link it for you, it is listed as ‘book one’.  so there is that sigh-inducing moment of my day.

The other cringe of today:  my realization that the book that i keep finding, that hovers in each of the rooms I tidy daily, moving (by my hand) from desk, to bedside, to floor, to fireside… is one that I have already read.

sigh.

Little Bee, by Chris Cleave.  Let’s dodge the appropriate questions of a white guy writing about an African woman, ok? It’s a for-real dodge.

The beginning, the first sequence is just brilliant.  How much a life can be like a British pound coin.

Most days I wish I was a British pound coin instead of an African girl. Everyone would be pleased to see me coming. 

It is brilliant.

Beyond that, I can tell you that I have forgotten much of the detail. I had evidently blocked the title from my memory, but the story has been with me for many years. And I have been permanently scarred by the story line… the violence, the shock, escape, return, the unrelenting feeling of inevitability that I felt when reading. If you are better at handling life than I am, this is a story to read. Think of the power in words that have carried me this many years… its time I let it move out of my house, to stop tidying it from place to place.  

And it brings me back to what I liked about The Hazel Wood.  Its all about story. Making our own, being trapped in, breaking out of… story. The power of it. How much it can follow you.

As I grapple with my own recurring story, and the need to release/escape from the poison of repetition, I’m feeling my own dark fairytale winding down, and out. and So there, my friends.

A post on books. More will eventually arrive, because I’m done with avoiding things today.

Pip! (still not english, or Mr. Toad, or 84…)

-uwmfLittle Bee- Cleave- UnwifedMotherExpletiveThe Hazel Wood- Albert- Unwifedmotherexpletive

Humanity

#hashtag (SO.MUCH.RANDOMNESS.)

Hmm. My cousin named her dog #hashtag.  She’s in marketing, and lovely, so she is allowed, and encouraged to do so.

🙂

I’m doing some different things this week, in anticipation of yet another long break from the kids as they go skiing with their dad.  i’m, yes, glad for them. and then. but, whatever.  #sparsebutcomplex

#economicchoices #financialstability #skiadventures #iammoreofalodgebunny anyhow.  I’m too low-class for skiing anyways. I get all whacked out by the money involved in going straight down a slippery hill.  but #realdeal?  Its the jealousy that I can’t do the big trips. But seriously, I AM getting over it.

We will go to the Cape this year, like we’ve done the past few years. And two or three nights will feel like a million dollars. it really will.  #sistersaredoingitforthemselves #nocreditcards!

#andtodayiwrote #forme #notwork .  #wewillseewhatcomesofthis … I’ve got a lovely children’s story in the works. I’d love to see it with illustrations some day. sigh. I’m such an old-school person, so much beauty and peace in a slower style.

Hazelwood photo Unwifedmotherexpletive
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

I make lists daily, to achieve any thing at all. everyday i have to put ‘chickens’ on the list or i leave those ladies right where they are which is not at all kind.

and lately, i’ve had to put READ .  because really, this work for yourself #hustle, plus the #stupidityofthephone has KILLED MY READING HABIT.  i mean, SHOCKINGLY. so now, i’m getting back into my own body and it is good.

and i’ve gone to the gym.  (godawful boring, but still. 80s music. so, okay.)

 

LOVE YOU. SORRY FOR THE RANDOM. #SORRYNOTSORRY

awww, love…

uwmf

 

 

Humanity

Mess: O Princess, Damsel, Virgin

**Myss, Caroline Myss.. no mess, beyond mine.

i’m not done learning about the archetypes yet. not by a long shot. looks like i still have 9 hours of listening to do. today’s lunch learning was princess, damsel, virgin.  hmph. light. i don’t happen to carry these with me, though i have a recognition of damsel, ‘needing to be rescued’… but the princess, ‘someone will take care of me’ is not in me. i can point at my friends who have this one right now, easy-peasy, because i recognize it, but don’t understand. its a perpetually young one, almost naive… that is waiting for her prince, her ‘one’… in order to evolve she has to face and break her own helplessness, evidently.

hmpf, again.

as for damsel? I’ve had a wild desire to be rescued, i’ll admit. I’ve wanted to be airlifted right out of what was going on and let someone else do all the work. i just don’t believe anyone can do that for me.  so what does that make me? cynic?

mm.

the virgin, my friends, has little to do with sex.  think, more along the lines of ‘virgin territories’… uncharted waters.  the person who has the Virgin archetype is one who is more clean and free than the rest of us, unencumbered by the mess and weight of the past.

Myss says we carry 12 plus archetypes in us.  I don’t think i’ve got these, beyond my glance at Damsel.  You?

Zinnias and Dahlias Unwifedmotherexpletive

Humanity

Archetypes and Mother Teresa

yep, you read that right. I’m on day 3 of listening to * Carolyn Myss talk about Archetypes, and how we all can relate better and feel more connected when we use a common language of symbol and metaphor.  (of course, cross-cultural might provide hills and valleys, but Mother, Mother is the broadest thing in the universe, potentially, but is still Mother. Child, Warrior, Student, Saboteur, ) These are elements we have within us, not what we do to others, necessarily.

For fucksake, Mother Theresa wasn’t even a mother, and she was.  right? we dig? Its not ‘literal’, its symbolic, full of meaning that doesn’t even need to be spoken. men can be Mother, ladies without kids can be Mother. whatever.

again, whatever. So, work is slow and I’m looking into the things I love.  I love mysticism, have, do, but because I went to a Jesuit College, I studied a whole bunch of mystics, and I don’t envy them a goddamned bit.*= I mean, we’re talking very very dark trials and tribulations, some including blood and abandonment and hysteria, and super early deaths.  So, you know, not that much of a celebrity thing.

BUT, I love Mother Theresa. And I’ve been getting into the whole ‘Listening to things on tape/phone’ thing lately. it allows me to concentrate in a way that I haven’t for a very long time, almost collegiate-ly.*-

“If I ever become a saint—I will surely be one of ‘darkness,’” Mother Teresa wrote in September of 1959. “I will continually be absent from heaven—to light the light of those in darkness on earth.” *& This site

oh, man, she is my guy. (I know)

and one of the archetypes that i’m learning I have in me is that of the Innocent Child, the Magical Child… ooooh, sparkly lights and rainbows and steadfast faith and oooh, a butterfly!! its not an immature thing, or naïve, but it is a pretty significant part of me in much of my life thus far. And… every archetype has its flipside, or ‘shadow’ and the times when my child is despondent, and believes in nothing, and hides in the blanket fort, are for real.  Disappointment, loss of faith in the goodness, oh man, they swing through and knock me down.

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I am not equating my mood swings to Mother Teresa’s dark nights of the soul. except metaphorically. **

anyhow, i’m freehanding this, and I want to stop now to go back to thinking. so, there. Oh my word, I just started to type something about how my bulletpoints below are hollow but stopped to look up what that meant literally and oh my god, guys, what kind of world are we living in?!

*I don’t know much about Myss or Sacred Contracts, or what not, but I ‘GET’ the idea of archetypes, whether we grasp them on the surface or just recognize them floating under the dock.  I just ‘get’ it.

*=my language is pretty damn funny/punny. unintentional, I swear.

*-let us now talk about the girl who is deaf getting back into ‘listening’, shall we? no? okay then.

*& I don’t know anything about this site but its where I got the quote so I had to link.

**if there is a God, and a ‘living’ Mother T, then i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m not worthy… full on face in dirt.