Unfinished Blog Entries

While beginning the process of creating the next blog, I searched through, as I do weekly, those which I began and never finished.  I am not sure why I didn't finish and publish them, but as of this moment, none of these entries beckons me to continue. Only one, a poem written by my daughter, Caroline, which haunts me and beckons me into a deeply reflective space. That one, I will spend my time on this week.

 What I had begun, however, may interest you, or it may not. I share them with you here. You decide.

I didn't record who gave me permission to use this.

 

One pattern of behavior which I can no longer tolerate, and in fact despise, is that of ignoring of value of another's creative genius - ("I might add -especially mine" , she utters tongue in cheek.)

I belonged to an organization which placed value on some and no value on others, even though both contributed with equal value. There was the in group, and the rest of us.

The nicest people fell into this pattern of behavior. I never ceased to be amazed at its prevalence. 

Entering A creative leadership cycle.

Employing several reflection catalyzing techniques

Every year, I take a short retreat to write a short story of the year just spent.  A few days later, I write a story of the coming year.

This year was no exception.

Yes, I enjoy expressing myself creatively, but I experience happiness when the work I am doing with someone or a group results in their creative expression. The most special memories of these occasions:

 - Arts Festival in Rochester

- Teaching painting to a group of welfare women

- Psychodrama

- Leading group in making cards

There are two ends of the EGO spectrum  in this world. Needy People  and People with purpose. . Who am I to judge?  It doesn't take the use of a  magnifying glass or a microphone to see and hear the difference.

There are perspectives and there are opinions. I can respect a perspective, but even if it is my own, I challenge opinions.

I loved Sydney. I loved being able to walk right off the street and  into a deli,  pick up some fish and chips and a beer and sit in the park eating  lunch.

I was having a conversation with a dear friend the other day. She and I go back to grade school together. We recollected our various adventures and somehow focused on the uniforms we remember people wearing.

- The porters in the club car on the train with bow ties and white gloves. 

- The waitresses with neatly folded and names embroidered on the pocket and  small black aprons.

-The service station men with their white driving jackets and name on their chest. 

-The nurses in white wearing the caps of their alma mater.

My life is full of contradictions at the moment.

Positives and negatives in balance.

Opposition and agreement in balance.

I want it all to be positive and agreeable.

But that isn't wholeness.

Now the persona others see, that's a different story.

I have so many regrets about motherhood. It is as if it all happened and I never got to be part of it.  what was wrong with me?

Nothing. I lived in a moment of time that was between turning the child over to a nanny or nursemaid  and having to work for a living. Children born "out of wedlock" were considered illegitimate, although now we are all clear that isn't the child's burden at all. The responsibility for not taking responsibility for the care and nurture of a child is totally the burden of the parents.

I lived a lifestyle in which we, together, participated in leaving our children with others for the sake of the grand old revolution.  How awful it was, in retrospect. How awful that I had to make that choice. Others of us didn't. I will never understand my weakness then and there.

However, as Tillich  put it so graciously - we are accepted unconditionally.

In  about 1984, I was drawn to Tarot cards. It began with Daughters of the Moon - the reason: the archetypes of the cards were representative of different cultures, not just one. Today, I stick closely to Angeles Arien's interprettion and use Alistaire Crowley's deck. Tarot, a reflection of one's own Soul. What a gift to have been given - the return of ancient and once popular abilities.

Thy is it we begin some journeys and abandon them for another?