She sent me an email this morning . . said I hadn't posted in a while

It was just the nudge I needed, I guess

Because on this one I thought I might hide

Some days are easier than others . . I pretend no one else understands

But I know she does, she's lived through them too

Asking the gods . . why and why not and why now

So I pushed myself to the table . . sun streaming into my eyes

Open to the blessings, of friends smart and sassy 

And of course in her case, Southern style

What would we do without them . . those women who prod and poke 

You've something to share, like a bee in the bonnet 

A kick-start full of hope

So here I am at the wordpress. .. a swirl of thoughts and smiles

Maybe it's her chutzpah, this Moxie belle 

No ordinary woman to me

A woman of mystery and mayhem, what in her mirror might we see

Revenge and lusty ardor 

Oh my god, should she be you or will she be me?

Stay tuned for the next chapter . . . the wheels are beginning to turn

All my love . . my dear :)

Resilience

As I have shared in the other "wing" of my blog . .I've been thinking a lot lately about what keeps us stuck and what motivates us to become unstuck . . in other words, what makes us resilient? I've got my nose into research and will post some sense of what the literature has to say . . but as I've professed so many times, I'm so much more interested in how "we" perceive it rather than the number-crunched, academically-presented to-fit-inside-the-box interpretations. Although I truly value to scientific method (just so you don't get me wrong) . . I am interested in perception and description . . what we think and feel as we live it. My objective is to share our voices . .in our own words. I seem to find my way through life the best when I read and hear the experiences of other women . . this is where I find my resilience:) Without your stories or your experiences . . . I can only hear the sounds of my own words . . . and when I am struggling, it is village of your many voices that lifts me and prods me and encourages me . . just as I hope the shared stories and experiences do for each of you. With each other . . we are never alone. Resilience. So I encourage you to open that comment box and share your stories of resilience. It will be good for you (as well as me . . and I hope for many others :) As always . . I am listening . .

Woman Work

I've got the children to tend
The clothes to mend
The floor to mop
The food to shop
Then the chicken to fry
The baby to dry
I got company to feed
The garden to weed
I've got shirts to press
The tots to dress
The can to be cut
I gotta clean up this hut
Then see about the sick
And the cotton to pick.

Shine on me, sunshine
Rain on me, rain
Fall softly, dewdrops
And cool my brow again.

Storm, blow me from here
With your fiercest wind
Let me float across the sky
'Til I can rest again.

Fall gently, snowflakes
Cover me with white
Cold icy kisses and
Let me rest tonight.

Sun, rain, curving sky
Mountain, oceans, leaf and stone
Star shine, moon glow
You're all that I can call my own.


Maya Angelou

The stories they shared in an hour changed her life forever . .
What will they do to yours?

Stories of Ordinary Women
Listen, Ask Questions, Share

Maxine

Well, well, well. What fools these mortals be.
Looks like these women could use some help Doc.
They’re still standin’ upright, but they’re seriously draggin’ tail, if you know what I mean.
I just don’t quite understand how they can keep pulling all of that weighty stuff around all the time.

Me,
I took care of all that nonsense years ago.
Thought it might give me that big wrinkle across my forehead. From all that heavy duty thinking.
Too much for me, I’m telling you. Nope. I’d rather put my energy into something productive.
Like shopping.

Crazy, huh? But it works for me.
I’ve got a closet full of clothes like you wouldn’t believe. I could wear a new outfit every day, if I could still get into all of them.
Put on a little weight lately, so some of them just have to hang there takin’ up space. Until I can get that cute little personal trainer to do more than just prance around in those skimpy spandex shorts givin’ me an eyeful.
Not that I mind lookin’, I might add.
But really, I should be sweating up a storm rather than just flirtin’ with all of the other men that walk through.
Don’t think that’s gonna lift my fanny any.
But it does seem to lift my spirits.
So I keep going.

Better than that one girlfriend of mine. All she does is work.
Sticks her nose to the grindstone and never lets up.
Always tryin’ to please somebody, somewhere, someway.
That’s her style.
Lookin’ for praise wherever she can get it.
If you ask me,
she’s hiding some big secrets under those giant heaps of gotta do’s.
But then she didn’t ask me, did she?
So I let her bury herself as deep as she’s gonna go before she wakes up one day and can’t find that artificial little smile she plasters on in the morning.
Too bad for her, though. I prefer the real thing.
Got mine at the Lancome counter.
Think I’ve seen you there, too,
haven’t I?

Hey, sorry, gotta run.
Wish I could stay and help you heal all of these other women, but
Dancing with the Stars starts in about an hour and I’d hate to miss it.
Have you seen the beauties they’ve had on there lately? Bodies to die for and no wrinkles either.
Reality TV.
There’s nothing like it.

Oh, and by the way. You don’t know anybody who needs a robe do you?
I picked this one up a while back,
but there’s this stain on it that I just can’t seem to get out.
Doesn’t show much to the naked eye. Seems to have gone much deeper than that.
Makes me feel uncomfortable though.
Do you think any of these other women would notice?

copyright US Library of Congress Jilly Bean, PhD

Demands and Consequences

Today I've really been thinking about the ramifications of what passes for the truth in our society . . and how the omission of truth seems to be so acceptable . . especially in face of an affair whether it is the one who is cheating or the one who is participating in propping up the . . well, we'll call it "ego" in this instance.

Mattie's Depression

Depression.
I hate to even say the word. It’s so ugly, dark, airless.
I can talk about it now – I’m in remission. Sounds like cancer, doesn’t it?
Well, now that’s a fairly good comparison. Only you don’t die from it – at least that’s what they tell me.

You would think that I’d be used to it – the depression, I mean. But I can hardly believe that anyone could ever become accustomed to the hooded creeps who come to latch you to your bed and leave you. Helpless, hopeless, and feeling worthless.
I’ve been seduced by those ghastly goblins for years.

But I’m better now and I’m going to beat it this time. I’m going to know that it’s coming.
I’m going to stoke a little fire and send up smoke signals so that you can see when I’m going under. “Rescue me”, the puffs will plead. Such nonsense when you’re low – belly flat to the bed, pillows pulled tightly around your head.
But that’s what I was told to do by one of my counselors.

Oxymorons in my book. The counselors. Tell you what to do instead of listening.

Last week, I met this really nice woman at the library. She was browsing in the self-help section at the same time I was. Imagine that. Me in the self-help section.
This woman looked me right in the eyes and asked if she could help.
I think what she originally meant was could she help me find a specific book or something. But I wasn’t thinking clearly – so I said, “sure” and proceeded to give her an abbreviated version of what I just went on and on about a minute ago.
And believe it or not, this stranger looked straight at me and listened to everything that I said.
No interruptions, no you poor thing – just an occasional umm – as if she was really pondering what I was saying. Amazing isn’t it. She just appeared out of nowhere.
Changed my life though. Made me start thinking that somebody else out there might really care
about me, too.

So I started putting on a little lipstick and sprucing up my hair a bit. I started getting out a bit
more. Like this new Bible study group that I’ve been going to.
Met this guy there. He’s really into giving me great tips on living from these passages of Job. Says I can learn a lot from reading the Bible.
Says that God is a better listener than anyone here on earth. And I think maybe He is
– next to this guy.

We’re seeing each other now and he tells me not to worry about ever being depressed again.
He says that he just won’t let it happen. Put my worries aside and count on him.
He seems to have all of the answers. And that’s a good thing.
Keeps me out of the self-help section.

Now if he can just help me find the right job, I’d really be on top of the world.
As far as I’m concerned, that old curtain of depression has fallen for the very last time.

copyright 2006 US Library of Congress