Once, back in the day, when I was a strict vegetarian and didn’t eat any sugar, I was at my aunt’s house for Easter in CT, visiting from CA. She knew in advance of my vegetarian tendencies but served me a big chunk of ham anyway. I must have looked away, trying to focus on something else. Aha! The green molded jello on a plate! It was a lovely green, with little bits of fruit inside. My Aunt looked at me looking at the jello and said: It’s not for staring, Susan… it’s for eating! Of course, this was the same aunt who, when I visited her years later, told me then what a shame it was that I had had to get married because I was pregnant. I laughed and told her she was wrong, that I had been there, and that conception had occurred well after nuptials. Yes, she said, it really is a shame you had to get married the way you did. Green jello and ham… there’s just no changing some things, eh?
I went to Mexico for nine days when my son Willoughby was 9. Rode mules and hiked through the Sierra Nevada Mountains with a group of folks — and one boy named Elliot. He and I really got along well. I sang songs to him about two orchids in a tree and I knit him a little brown wool hat when we reached the top of the mountain.
How does one parent one’s self when one has had no appropriate parenting? How do we teach ourselves our own value — and believe it — if we have not been valued or believed in. There are ways to do this, but it still remains a dogged, blessed, and endless process.
pieces of the past tumble down —
impacting each present moment
and possible futures, or perhaps,
simply here for defragmentation.
. . . . .
Ahem… my partner was 51 and I was 41. We used three methods of birth control. He didn’t want any more children. When I became pregnant at 42 and told him, he turned to me and said, ‘For the love of God, what are you going to do?’ My response, “I don’t know, but the love of God will see me through.” The little Vermont village tale became one of placing blame on me, as if I were the only one who had been in the bed. Fortunately and thankfully, I now have a wondrous 25yo son, who I raised as a single mother. Yes, his biodad had to pay. Why shouldn’t he? He wasn’t willing to help in any other way.
Patriarchy is historically and pathetically self-interested. If you’re for it, you might want to question your own interests. The balance of the masculine and the feminine — in each of us — is paramount to all — personally and planetarily. May the Light in all of us reign supreme in its exquisite sense of balance and harmony. When matriarchy and patriarchy are in balance with one another, we’ll talk again. I look forward to those conversations.
For the first time today, writing a piece of found poetry from the events and celebrations of the day, I found myself (ha!) hesitant to include the word ‘Islam’ even though it was one of the day’s words. I did not want to become a target. This is the first instance of such temerity on my part — and I wonder at it. Methinks I need to re-embrace fearlessness. –spb