Humanity

spots

fuck ‘the world is too much with us’.

its the way I describe that feeling, when i’m too stressed about things that are much bigger than I am. but fuck it.  we’re dealing with absolutely unprecedented levels of fear and anxiety these days.  fucking ‘cataclysmic’ isn’t even an exaggeration anymore, or a word I have to explain to my kids.

school shootings are a thing. if you touch me on that subject, I burst into flame. my kids are all in public schools and I can’t even begin to consider.

there is an island of trash. people don’t recycle and still litter and it is pretty irrelevant to me whether this is just ‘natural earth cycles’ or not, because litter and pollution in the skies are pretty much human problems.  there’s no snails responsible.

and immediately? the icecaps are fucking melting. and so our weather has changed and is changing and i’m not sure we’re not already doomed.

how the fuck do I talk to my kids about THAT?

and certainly, it bears mentioning that I live in the United States and I have a president who is behaving unbelievably recklessly. the situation that is being created by his actions and lack of integrity may in fact settle us into war, with the world.

I mean, what the fuck man? does being nice at the grocery store help with any of this? does enjoying a snuggle with my kid balance out these IMMENSE disasters?  I have a sick kid here today and she’s responded well to meds and has that glazed, overly illuminated look while she makes a drawing and talks to me.  I’m staring at her, because she’s amazing, and I don’t know what the world will be like for her, in her adulthood. at all.

I find this level of bullshit extraordinarily hard to handle.

are you doing any better? how?

Fall Mix of Ferns Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

Advertisements
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.

0920191356h

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.

Humanity

Today’s Mood is not a good one.

just letting you know.

  1. All my chickens got eaten. This would be an AGAIN situation.  I’m renaming spring.  Tis now, “That time Kate fed foxes.”
  2. I’m going to build a huge pen, to house the fucking rooster who is still alive.  Okay, so can we talk about his job performance here? Because I really would like to, and it doesn’t seem like real live people in real life want to hear me rant about the cock and all the blusterfuck that goes with it. Helloooo guy who drives a HUMMER.
  3. I’m going to build a huge pen and see if i can make it super strong and viable with pallets and essentially found objects because i really do not have extra money. and I have a handy man around these days and he says its coo.
  4. so coo.
  5. i really like having chickens. it feels like a tie to the ground, and i want to be tethered like that.
  6. it just occurred to me that if i don’t have chickens i am more free to move. that is a whole kettle of fish that i am not really looking at until the last one is 18, and thats a whole different kettle. and all of it makes me sad. i love this place. LOVE.
  7. FUUUUCK.
  8. I love this month, its my birthday month. and school is ruining it.  i live in tremendous fear and anxiety that i am missing the ‘pivotal’ ‘most important’ cute things of their educational careers.  the kids don’t like being the only kids with no parents there, even if they literally NEVER are the only kids with no parents there. i feel sick at buying into the overparenting bullshit. but here i am.
  9. i’m going to be 45. i love it. what a fucking great number.
  10. thats all i got. mood. just rode on a rider mower for an hour, cleaning up my yard.
    BOSS.

 

love you,

uwmf0518190734

Divorce, Humanity

small life, redux. (ha!)

Its like the balls of tinfoil candywrappers you find around the house after any holiday, but halloween and easter really seem to be the producers around here.  the little bit of sparkle that is bitter when mouthed.

thats what its like. listening to myself when i’m scared of something.

UnwifedMotherExpletive Small Life tinfoil wrapperand i’m scared, a little, of this small life i have, and the change inherent in the choice of vulnerability.

i have this brilliant life.. although there has been a lot of death this week, in life and in my chicken coop, and the contrast between humanity and farm has never been more clear.

the loss of 10 birds to a death by suicide?

wordless .

 

 

 

large break.

and remembering can be pretty hard sometimes.  and imagining can be hard sometimes, too, when pain and deepest sadness are at root. and in a small life it can be all consuming.

but there are other sides to the coin, as always.

this small life, this dandelion of detail that keeps pushing its way into my foreground, this need to spread joy underground, to be persistent against all the formality and form of the ‘just so’… it is me digging in my heels against the perfect lawn, the ‘be happy’ mentality, against my own self-judgement for having a ‘mom’s boyfriend’… because i judge that phrase . so. damn. much.  and i can withdraw more and more. and the small life warps a little… and again, and again, the dandelion bursts its sun into a million wishes… and who the hell am i to warp that?

and i’m so incredibly lucky and so incredibly heartbroken that not everyone finds the dandelion.

 

thats a sentence to end on…

Humanity

A Small Life

I have been coming to the realization that there may not be hundreds of people at my funeral.

This may be a strange opening sentence.  I can’t tell anymore. I spend a lot of time alone.

I’m smiling.  people that love me tend to argue with me over this point. i’m not totally sure why. kind of, maybe, but not entirely.

i’m 44, i’m an introvert.  i love and take great great pleasure in working from home and having the kids with me when they are. (mostly. i’m no saint.) i’m a homebody. i don’t want my kids to be sick but its a thrill of a lifetime when they are and i can nourish them to health. *I’m here, I’m the universe.  I love people and I like to see them and laugh with them. but my circles are small, and i take great delight in the smallness of my life, most of the time.

when my dad died 5 years ago, there were hundreds of people at his services. and i’m not exaggerating. and i know other people who are still alive who will have that problem… well, you know what i mean… but i’m working on being really content with who i am.

working like: dirtyhands in the soil working.  cracked skin and calloused fingers.

i have a small life. a little life.  a life with children who are dynamic people living in my home still, a home, a dog, chickens, some land, a very fledgling ability to make a living…small.  *not insignificant, just small.

*the universe is in the grain of rice, ya dig?  thats me.

0508190840b