Back from the dead

Or at least feeling a bit like it. I’ve had death, plane rides, stranding in airports and sickness to contend with, but now, hopefully, I’ll feel more like writing and putting “pen to paper”. There’s always a lot to say, but not always time to put it down the way I’d like to.

Bear with me.

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And yet another one has taken himself out of this world…

Ah, tear my heart out. Another friend has passed too soon. I will miss you, Badger. And though I’m sure you thought your death would affect no one, like a stone thrown in the water, the ripples run all the way to the far shore and back again. May you rest beyond the veil, may you be whole and happy again, and may you be with Steffan and all the rest that have gone before. And if there is indeed nothing like that after, then may you return to the star stuff you came from, sparkling in the night sky, just beyond the edge of sight.

Ave atque vale.

The biggest problem with people who are in that position, in that darkness of soul, is that their world looks no farther than themselves and their overwhelming pain. They cannot look beyond to see how much hurt they do to their larger circle of family and friends by proceeding on that path. Perhaps they believe that no one really cares, that everyone will be better off, but they’re lying to themselves for justification. We who are left behind are damaged by their actions. We grieve, we wonder if there was a sign, a something that we could have done, and there is such a ragged hole left by their departures.

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Busy…ness

Whew. Hard to believe that I’ve been to busy to be introspective. The good news is that the busy-ness is because of music: learning new music, rehearsing new and old music, performing, and recording is next. And on top of that, I’m doing art for my husband’s new CD, taxes, life just…gets…busy. 

And yet, I enjoy the exercise of writing. It calms my mind and makes me slow down and think. So, I’ll try to be less of an absent writer.

Enjoy the day!

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Star Stuff

Gone. You’re just…gone. Gone from here, back to the star stuff from which you came. And I can’t see you, or hear you, or touch you. And yet, I know that you are there.

I smell your perfume in every summer breeze. I hear your laughter in wind chimes and bird song. Your eyes wink at me from the edge of sight through leaves. And your touch is in the wind, the grasses that caress my feet as I walk, the branches that bow down to my hand.

But it is still lonely without you. I still miss the unique, indefinable you. And so I will walk outside, and commune with you, holding you close in memory and in love, even as I let you loose to follow whatever destiny awaits on the other side of that veil.

Until we all return again.

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Today…

There will never be another Today. So enjoy this precious, beautiful jewel of a day. Don’t sit in the dungeon of resentment. Don’t drown in the well of despair.

If you’re down, or ill, remember what you DO have: in family, whether it be friend, furred or blood, in the ability to comprehend what I’m writing, the breezes, the brightness of the day.

If you’ve lost someone, enjoy the day for them, and imagine the incredible pleasure that they would get, knowing that you’re doing something, enjoying something with them in mind.

Whether you go outside and breathe the air, or stay in savouring a lovely cuppa tea and a book, ENJOY THE DAY! Tell someone you love them, appreciate them, admire them.

There will never be another day just like today. ♥

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Postal Packin’ Mama

Postal Packin’ Mama. A video on the US Postal Crisis. A must see!

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Originally posted on Some Assembly Required:

this is not something that i typically do. but we are in desperate need of your help.

my aunt, widowed and living in extreme poverty, has been served an eviction notice from her mortgage lender. this lender, being a part of a nation-wide classist housing scheme and financial crisis from the illegal inflation of false debts, has been relentless when addressed and asked for assistance. they seek to drain every penny from her, despite her self-employment in a dying field.

she currently lives in the middle of rural woodlands, in a rundown and falling-to-pieces house with the company of her goats and dozens upon dozens of extravagant hand-made costumes of various eras. she rents out this property to groups in LARPing [live action roleplaying] communities and groups developing systems of roleplay therapy for neuroatypical folk, such as those in the autistic spectrum. this property is her only semi-reliable source of…

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