Music Minute: Glitter In The Air ~ P!nk

Accidentally came across this song today.....loved it. Had to share it. Weird how music speaks to me....

~



~

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
Close your eyes and trust it, just trust it
Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don't care?
It's only half past the point of no return
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn
The thunder before lightning, the breath before the phrase
Have you ever felt this way?

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

It's only half past the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run
The breath before the kiss and the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar
You called me sugar

~

x

The Human Condition

"Every day I make an effort to go towards what I don't understand"

 ~ Yo Yo Ma ~

My friend, Sunday Jeans, posted that as her Facebook status today. I read it and thought, "Yep, that's me."

That's also Sunday.  We're like peanut butter and chocolate that way.  I love that Sunday 'gets' me in a special way. She and I are a lot alike, as we have extremely similar upbringings -- facets about our childhood, specifically our formative years, that we struggle with in adulthood.  We also tend to use academics to help us with our emotions and the emotions of others.  We tend to cope with emotions in a clinical manner. 

I am a psychology major, though I cannot list the great psychological minds of history. I cannot recite to you theories and psychologists if you paid me a million dollars. I know who you know: Freud, Piaget, Pavlov. I know bits and pieces, enough to sound intelligent and carry a conversation at a dinner party. I know enough to influence the way I parent sometimes. I know enough, but always willing to learn more. What I know isn't absolute. It is moveable. I can be -- and have been on PLENTY of occasions -- wrong.

To tell someone I study psychology is risky.  In terms of interpersonal/intimate relationships I'm told, "don't give me that psychobabble", "you're doing reverse psychology on me", "quit playing psychologist" or "you're playing mind games with me".  It also is amazing to walk through life with this particular interest because it lends itself to the deepest depths and richest, limitless value in life, people, relationships: "someone finally understands", "I never thought of it like that", "I miss your 'unconditional'", "I can't tell anyone else this...". Frequent words spoken to me by friends and aquaintances: "evaluate me", "tell me what you see in me", "can you tell me what my issues are?".  All compliments for sure, and for which I gratefully accept.  That deep depth and life richness helps me endure the harshness of the other.

Psychology as a study, taken as a whole, is tricky soft science.  The Powers That Be and Society At Large, tries to "universalize" the human condition, meaning, compartmentalize or categorize in order to make predictions. It's a science that bleeds into all other sciences, except maybe the hard sciences. The hard sciences, though, even have a faction of studies where psychology and physics meet -- you know, "if you set your mind to it, you can change it" and that process of actual thought is measurable because brain waves are physical.  (I don't get it either.....*laughing*)

Telling someone I'm a student of psychology means that person is on sentry.  Guard goes up in a unique way. It isn't like the guard one posts when meeting new people at a party, or early dating life, or in I-am-only-here-by-force guard.  No. It's different. There's this conscious wonder that I can SEE. S/He wonders how I'm assessing, evaluating, studying, measuring. Being able to feel this tension makes me sad.  It is never my intention to make you feel invaded. Rest assured, I don't do any of that. I am like you -- I make the same judgements on first impressions or look at situations and filter information. I'm not interested in playing head games with anyone. I've been on that side of the relationship and I've been damaged.

More personally, being in a relationship with me can be very easy or very complicated -- so I'm told. I doubt this is unusual for any of us, truthfully. You've probably heard that about yourself and said it about someone else.  The fact of the matter is, we all cross wires.  In intimate relationships, especially, I am told I'm "clinical" or "academic" when dealing with emotional issues. I suppose there's a truth to that statement, and it would be fair to say that it's a defense or coping mechanism of sorts.  Because I believe in becoming a better person each day, I do expect you to do it too.  But even I need a break from progression, as do you. Being still is needed.

I have no plans to ever become a psychologist at any level, which explains why my retention of rote facts about psychology is poor.  The main reason I became interested in the study of human behavior is because I want to understand my own suffering.  I want to understand my own behavior(s).  I want to be able to understand others similarly.  I want to progress as a person. Why? So I could love better, and be loved better. 

What I extrapolate from studying psychology is simply, the human condition, more specifically YOUR humanness as it unfolds in the experience of our relationship, and MY humanness as it unfolds in the experience of our relationship.

Sure, I throw out words like "validated", "formative years", "co-dependent", "addictive", "family of origin".  I also use words like "I love you" to almost every one.  I use "I understand", "I can accept that", "I want to understand", "help me understand", "thank you", "you're amazing" and many, many bolstering words.  I have grown in my ability to love others.  I've grown in my ability to be loved.  I've grown in the self-love aspect of my being, as well.  Of COURSE I still struggle with all of these things daily.  I've certainly had my inner and outer tantrums about not being given a 40th birthday party, missing out on concerts or social events because of xyz, wishing I was somewhere else or with someone else. I still daydream about single life, travelling abroad, wanting MORE out of my life.  Even though I feel unsettled or unhappy, but I continue to find hope and I continue to place faith in growth.  I look to forgive and seek forgiveness. I look for worth and need to feel worthy. I used to think of that as a weakness, and sometimes I still do. But it isn't. Everyone needs to feel like they matter.

In the end, isn't about the people? Isn't our life about who we touch and how we are touched by others? Isn't our precious time on earth meant to be to reconcile one another? There's no entitlement, no promise of pure joy and happiness. But what we have are the gifts of each other and the gifts within ourselves to offer, selflessly.

So, I offer a lifetime of apologies for the times I've ever made you feel judged, unaccepted, rejected, less than.  I'm doing the best I can. It's not any better than you are. It's not any worse. I am just me -- just Jackie, and I love you.

Happy Christmas

I was ahead this year.....till I became behind.

Seriously, how does it happen?

I really don't feel happy this time of year. I'm sad that I feel unhappy about it. Yeah, THAT snowball (pun?).

I try to focus on the reason Christmas even exists:  Christ.

I receive joy in events such as Boa singing in the choir, the home-made ornaments, the tree shopping. 

I do not enjoy the pressure of gifts -- receiving and giving.  I feel unorganized and therefore don't get packages in the mail on time, nor do I plan enough ahead to let the internet handle the mailing. I so long for the motivation and money to line up so that I can send gifts from the interwebs. Ultimately, I'd like the gift exchanging to end altogether. *perfect world*  I find it ridiculous to feel pressure to shop for teachers (school, church, etc.), co-workers, the mail man, the crossing guard, and so on and so on and so on.....

I tried harder this year to change my attitude.  For a while, I even had Christmas Spirit!

I have to try harder to shed the anxiety about all those pressures and focus on the birth of a tender baby.  The rest will fall into place.

So, in spite of my blue Christmas blog, just know that I am thankful for you wherever you are, whomever you are. And, in spite of my blue Christmas blog, I am taking moments here and there and settling down long enough to smile knowing Jesus is here.

Divinity weds humanity.

Happy Christmas.

Amen.

Neruda: The Fickle One

THE FICKLE ONE

~

My eyes went away from me

following a dark girl who went by.

She was made of black mother-of-pearl,

made of dark-purple grapes,

and she lashed my blood

with her tail of fire.

After them all

I go.

A pale blonde went by

like a golden plant

swaying her gifts.

And my mouth went

like a wave

discharging on her breast

lightningbolts of blood.

After them all

I go.

But to you, without my moving,

without seeing you, distant you,

go my blood and my kisses,

my dark one and my fair one,

my tall one and my little one,

my broad one and my slender one,

my ugly one, my beauty,

made of all the gold

and of all the silver,

made of all the wheat

and of all the earth,

made of all the water

of the sea waves,

made for my arms,

made for my kisses,

made for my soul.

~

Offerings of Compassion

This photo was taken at the State Fair of Texas when My Little One was three. We were sitting inside the building where the Quilts & other arts and crafts are on prized display. The Texas sun bore it's heavy beams on our delicate faces, so we decided to escape it a while. Ice cream seemed the perfect invitation to accept, so inside a building we ducked. 

Her curly locks had been pink-hair-sprayed & were drenched in sweat! My face was hotred.  We should've been miserable, yet we were laughing! 

Look how happy my sweetsweet is!! This picture makes me giggle and laugh and melt and ... well, just everything gooey and good. 

The picture was tucked away in a pile of pictures I had out to sort and put in an album.  There are stacks of pictures.  The point is, this photo wasn't out in plain sight.  It was buried in a sea of other photos.  Add to the mix that the sea is now contained in a closet because it was relocated to a room that we recently converted into an office-type room. 

See that sand dollar?  The sand dollar is her own painted artwork.  She painted it over the summer at a little clayhouse business near our home.  I'm not sure where it was before it was offered to me as captured in the photo above, but I know she's been very fond of it and plays with it from time to time.

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My Little One is such a sensitive, tender soul with a heart that is so tuned into mine it's scary (and I wouldn't trade it for the world!).

Several months ago, I was feeling overwhelmed, and this particular day, I couldn't hold myself together any longer.  My Husband and I had closed our bedroom door and I was venting about feeling inadequate.  I wasn't yelling in anger; rather, I was releasing in a very emotional way -- might even call it an unravelling.  This was a pretty unusual event because I don't typically unravel around My Family.  This day, I did; there was no stopping it. 

I was crying the kind of cry where I get all boogery and practically hyperventillate.  The kind where I enter a zone of some sort and don't really have control of what I'm saying.  The kind of cry where I experience a migraine almost immediately after the tears dry. 

 

A brief time passes and I'm calmer, feeling better.  I opened the bedroom door to brave the world again.  On the floor, right at the threshold, before I could even take my first step, was the photo and sand dollar, just as it's pictured above.  Right at my bare feet was this abundant love.  I look down the hallway and she peeks out of a room with worried eyes, seeking answers, seeking returned love.  In a moment of a moment of time, we had an unspoken love flow between us and I felt so validated and adequate.  She cautiously approaches me where my arms were already open, awaiting to embrace her whole being.  And so, she entered, I lifted her up and hugged her to near-suffocation.  We exchanged words of assurance and all was right in the world again....

 

What an incredibly insighful gesture by a five year old.  What an amazing offering of compassion.

 

I am a blessed woman -- beyond measure -- beyond my worth.  And I am ever, EVER thankful.

+

The Legend of the Sand Dollar

Another One Without You

Today's My Dad's birthday.

I cried at church -- like I usually do.

While I knelt in prayer, reflecting on him, tears streaming warmth down my cold cheeks, the same smiling-from-the-white-light vision I had the day he died reappeared to me today.

I smiled.

He's well.

I quit crying.

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Love you, Daddy. Still. Always.

~Juliette

Thanksgiving Dedication to My Mom

Yesterday, I came home to a swept floor, a fried plant tended back to health, a neat and presentable daughter's room. 

Before that, she said yes to watching my kids all day so My Husband and I could work.

Before that, she said yes to watching a sick kid, herself in a constant immunocompromised state of health.

Before that, she's made meal after meal for My Family, fed My Kids whenever there's a time crunch between getting home from work and zipping to extracurricular activities. She's even taken them to the extracurricular activity, and picked them up.

She's been understandably upset when our schedules get crossed.

Me, My Brother, My Father and Mother ~ late 1971

She buys slurpees, gluten-free pasta, black licorice, sunflower seeds -- all for us.

She has given My Family a lot of her love, energy, time and today, I want to specially honor My Mom.  I'm endlessly grateful to have her in my life, and I'm glad my kids have a grandmother in her.  My mom grew up with no mother, didn't know her grandparents. She's survived a long, hard life and overcome a lot of challenges. 

I love her more each day.

Thanks, Mom, for making my life easier. And thanks for all you do for me and My Family.

xo

What's one of your earliest memories?

Being an Army brat, I have very few memories of my childhood at all, but one thing I remember vividly is from when my family lived on Oahu, Hawaii.

I was in elementary school, 3rd-5th, in Hawaii. One year, the whole grade saved newspapers and aluminum cans to earn money to pay for a trip to the Big Island (also named Hawaii, like the state). That trip was a week-long enrichment trip where we learned, among other things, Hawaiian history.

I got to walk across the entire Kilauea Crater, dormant at that time. The sulphur smell is still with me to this day. I also trekked on a black sand beach, saw where royalty lived, learned songs in the Hawaiian language, saw totem poles, danced the hula, and so many other experiences! By far, this memory is my favorite, and honestly, probably my earliest.

I have heard stories and seen pictures of times prior to the Hawaii post, but I cannot say I *remember* them. My "memories" are really re-told stories.

y'know...what you're wondering about. Duh.

Girl Panic!

Remember Cindy Crawford (still my all time favorite!)?

Remember Naomi Campbell?

Remember Duran Duran?

Remember?

~

Indulge in the eye candy of "Girl Panic!"

(such a clever twist!)

Legacy

He sat there, alone

'Neath the tree for shade

Pondering the cold stone

Atop where she laid.

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A couple weeks ago, I drove to the doctor's office.  Along the route, there's a large cemetary. Some plots skirt the outer perimeter of the property along a very busy street -- my route.  As I sped by, I quick glimpse of this haunting, lasting, and - as I see it - sweet, image has not left me.

I immediately wrote this little poem.

I hope I have a visitor or two some day bring a folding chair and sit at my grave.  I pray I have such a legacy.