|We are all unique and amazing. With this notion bouncing around inside me I offer to the world what I have to share. The words inside my head have reached to overflowing and in an attempt to keep from exploding I have taken to writing. What follows is the result of purging my mind. If you like what you see, SUBSCRIBE at the top of the page.|
If you would like to support the creation of independent art click below:
Become a Patron!
Into each life a little rain must fallOct 17, 2018
Into each life a little rain must fall. 2018 has proven the year of torrential downpours in my life. Early in the summer I was ordered to move out of the house I believed I would die in (in old age) as the result of divorce proceedings. Most of the rain during this portion of my life was coming from my eyes. I reeled twisting like a flag in a hurricane to find a place suitable for me and three kids (Serenity and I will split the parenting 50/50). Only days after finding out I must leave the house my mother died unexpectedly. Yes, she was healthy as an ox (a very healthy ox) and we had just made plans for her next visit to Vermont when she drowned in a Float Spa. There is a little comfort in knowing how much she was looking forward to taking the relaxing float she needed. I miss my mother dearly on the regular. I had only found a place to live the day before she died. I so looked forward to sharing the fields and the old house with her. My mother was my sounding board as I transitioned out of marriage, as I rediscovered who I was in the world and the community. In a very brief time I was introduced to two major life transitions that I had no choice but to live death and divorce. I have questioned how to share this information with my community of family, friends and colleagues as I felt great shame in the divorce and an unbearable pain at the death of my mother. Some of the sleuths out there have read deeper into my poems and writings and posts causing them to private message me about life. I have shared with a few of you as I seek a healthy way to deal with my grief and shame. So this is the rainy period of my life. My mother was a gardener who never lamented the rain. There was much I learned from her including ways to process life now. This is a transformation just as the trees transform each year growing leaves, processing sunlight and rain and earth nutrients, then dropping those leaves. Human lives can do the same. Just as in the spring when the new leaves sprout the tree becomes different (possibly new). Quite possibly this is my time to shed leaves and take a moment to become new / different. As my mother the gardener did not lament the rain, I will drink of the substance of life allowing it to feed my soul for growth. With each rain the gardens grow to produce that which we need to sustain ourselves. I pray, may there be rainfall in your life, enough to sustain you and sunshine enough to grow. And I pray the same for myself.
Words begin to flowOct 13, 2018
Not long ago I began to breathe again. And now the words want to flow again. A week ago began to share some of these words via this portal it was a bit tedious but I stuck it out. I hit save and when the screen refreshed all the words were lost. Everything had been erased and the screen was blank as if no words have ever been written on the page. What had happened? I do not know I resolved to believe they were not meant for the world just yet. I did not proof or edit as I wrote I let pour out my heart. The pain of loss and heartbreak. The difficulty of shaking hands with a new me. Discovering a new me that I have been spending years uncovering and empowering to take his place in the world. I new me that embraces the old me with gratitude for innocence and sacrifice and naive doggedness to push on and lay the foundation for the me I am today. The me that endure emotional and physical obstacles to reach here. Much work has been done and more work is to be done. A website renovation, goes with the presence and purpose renovation. A clear mission, a focused goal, a clear knowledge of self, a validation of skills and talents. There is only me to stop me. I day I speak aloud the mantra "I Am Enough". Each day I let my eyes look upon the words "I Am Enough". Each day I absorb into my knowledge "I Am Enough". I have now idea where i am going and I do now who I am and what state of being I will be in when I arrive. Now to let the words flow freely as I move on. #IAmEnough #Billosophy #gardensofEva
breathing againOct 1, 2018
Earlier this year I had begun to write about grief after the loss of far too many friends and family in very short period of time. I discovered it is one thing to intellectualize the process and yet another to experience. When my mother died suddenly on June 30 my writing slowed to a trickle. I still have a need to express myself through the written word, I simply could not make it happen. I continue to write my morning tweet poem using my mother's memory as fuel to push on. My head swims with so many words that need to be released from the cranial prison, yet my body and soul are not cooperating. Why? In the past when I wrote I would share it with my mother either first thing in the morning on our morning phone call or last thing at night when I walked the dog. Often she would praise the imagery that my words conjured in her. Sometimes she would not get the meaning at all yet would comment on word choices. I miss those moments of connection. I miss those moment of having someone who lovingly looked upon my work with compassion and appreciated that effort if not the aesthetic. Without my mother in the world I do not know that I will ever be understood. My head cheerleader and president of my fan club is no longer here. Even in middle age I am like many children in seeking the approval and support of a parent. I had that for so long a may have begun to take it for granted. And now it is gone. Now, 3 months after the great departure the tears have slowed, the waves of grief have more calm space between them. I can sit and breathe easier and see that someday maybe someday soon I will sit down and write again. First I will take a moment to breathe.
GriefSep 5, 2018
If you have been checking in for the musings or words of yours truly..... In short I have been debilitated by grief. Many may know that my mother Eva Forchion died unexpectedly on June 30, 2018. The two months that have followed this day have all blurred together. My morning call to my mother no longer happens. My evening call, when I walk the dog before going to bed, no longer happens. I no longer receive those whacky inspirational text messages from my mother or the blurry photos of her doing some odd thing or other no longer randomly pop up. Rationally I know that I am not the first to go through this. Yet this is just, wow. My children have been wonderful in sharing their process and helping with my process. My youngest noticed a tear rolling down my face and placed a compassionate hand on my forearm and said nothing. With each of my children we have share the smile of unknowing and long face of sadness as we each deal with death in our personal ways. I do know that my job is to keep living, right now that job is pretty hard.
Life is unpredictableJul 21, 2018
A little while ago i began writing about grief. I was writing about my discoveries on grief. The writings began with my the death of a close friend and how that death made me shudder, how that death made me re-think living. Not that I had any intention to stop living, I began to look at living very differently. Three weeks ago today my mother died suddenly thrusting me into a revisioning of living after the death of someone close. As I begin my writing will reflect the hole that is in my emotional being and what living with that hole is. Stay tuned as I dropped nuggets of this process.
Fables July 11thJul 17, 2018
Here is the recording of my story from the July 11 Fables storytelling night at Next Stage cafe in Putney, VT.