Feeling like Our Problems Aren’t Too Serious When Compared to Other People’s Woes

People need people who have lived and experienced the world in different ways…

This doesn’t mean that everyone must have the approval of half of the universe (plus the support of family) in order to survive… However, we should have at least one individual with whom we can discuss difficult issues. Sometimes this person is part of our chosen family, often she or he is a therapist, other times he or she is a bus driver with a kind heart, and many times she is that blog friend we’ve never met face to face… but to whom we feel a kinship, which is almost too difficult to describe.

You see, my Wicked Luvs, there are things we should never have to endure alone. I know I wouldn’t be able to survive (at least not out of jail) without my Piano Man, and a circle of the best friends anyone could ever wish for, to remind me to breathe and ignore the horrors some individuals and conditions can bring into my world.

A person I care about quite a bit is going through one of the most terrible situations I’ve ever heard of. She’s not very good at asking for help—mostly because when she did it in the past, things didn’t go well. The last few months were so overwhelming for her that she went ahead and reached out to family. Blood family is supposed to have your back, right? Well, many of us have experienced otherwise and have run away for cover, screaming and bleeding and half broken. What my friend’s relatives have done to her is heinous, illegal, leaning towards evil… and not for me to share.

Knowing of it sets my blood to boil, makes me want to slap some sense (and perhaps a bit of heart) into them. My friend is struggling with the rage and sadness… with the betraying self-doubt that is probably whispering in her ear, Is this whole thing your fault? I mean, family is supposed to be good to us… and caring, so it is obvious she must’ve done something to deserve the cruel treatment. I’m writing this post to remind her that bad people don’t need a reason to hurt others. They just do it and keep on going in search of new lives to tear apart.

You have so many who care about you, dear love. Reach out to those who have been there for us through thick, thin, cold and fiery. You don’t have to divulge everything. You might not even have to tell them a thing about what happened, just let them know that your world feels too heavy and you need a hand (or five arms and a few hearts). We are part of the same circle, and I know of at least two other wise women who can lighten your load.

Send her some light, my Luvs. I know it’s a bit difficult to give an opinion without any specific details, but we all know the kind of hurt brought up by having those who are supposed to love us fail us in ways that are incomprehensible. She needs to remember that the world is not full of rot.

You’re loved… very loved. Forget the rotten… nurture souls that love you back… ♥♥♥

In the Palm of Your Hand, by Gina Morley
“In the Palm of Your Hand”, by Gina Morley

When someone places their heart in the palm of our hands, we should treasure that gift with everything we are. One day, we might find ourselves as the givers…

Off to Write a Whisper… While Communing with Frogs

Three years ago, I was told stories about a ninety-year-old man’s first memory of crying, about a wise crone and her sisters using hot water bottles to warm the winter, about a painter who claimed his roots through ghostly images on canvas, about a mother metamorphosing into dragon and knight in the eyes of her youngest son…

Naturally, the tales stirred my Muse. Her whispers filled the hungriest parts of my mind… reminded me that we feed on words and delight in the preservation of memory. I plotted the story of their tales that same night, while everyone slept and frogs sang of summer’s end.

I’ve written different versions of the story, and they all feel… wrong. Last night, as I ran fingertips over the soil of my potted plants and listened to the mechanic roaring of Broadway, I finally figured out what kept diminishing the tales: I’ve been trying to bring a story to life, while writing it almost 3,000 miles away from its soul. The scrawling of those memories yearns for frog song, for bat wings speckling the night sky, for the prickling of the blackberry bush.

So, the Witch/Piano Man household flies off to Friday Harbor, where I aim to write a whisper… while communing with frogs, bats, deer, and eating more blackberries than it’s probably healthy.

I usually plan to blog little while I’m away from home, but I suspect that the telling of this tale is going to fill me so much that I might need to share some of the process with you. I’m looking forward to it—the telling and the sharing… Also, it has been quite a while since I’ve written about the writing process, from beginning to end. I kind of miss those posts.

Well, I better stop here. I need to have one last conversation with our house sitter, and I must revise my green babies’ watering chart—I’m quite enchanted by cemeteries, but a potted graveyard in my living room has never held much appeal, if you know what I mean.

What about you, my Wicked Luvs? Have you ever wrestled with creative work that won’t come to life until you allow for specific conditions? Do tell…

Edited (8/20/2015): there was a typo in the title (I wrote commuting instead of communing). So yes, there were lots of jokes about cars, trains and planes full of frogs. I enjoyed every one of them. 😀

Green Frog on Rose Hip