Acting Class

I’m taking a basic acting class
at a local theater.
I figured after 63 years of being myself
tt would be nice to learn how to be
someone else.
I think I’m doing okay at it.
Have to shake some of my nervous mannerisms,
But for the most part,
Changing my voice
Reading someone else’s words
Figuring out tone of voice,
Facial expressions,
A little movement in someone else’s shoes,
Not being me,
Is kind of fun.
And not as hard as I thought it would be.
At least not at a basic level.
I guess after all of these years
I’m ready to shed my skin.

Old Father Time?

Time. Who hasn't complained about not having enough time, running out of time, having too much time. Every day, I have less time left to live. Or to flip it around, every day is one more day that I have lived.

Time,
the continuum we use
to measure
what we have accomplished.
Events going from
past through present
to future.
Always present,
the present becomes past,
the future is now,
and all kinds of existential bullshit.
Time is measured by seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years,
decades, scores, centuries.
Time is meaningless
and time means everything.
There's an old Father Time,
but not a mother.
I wonder what that means.

Inside, Outside

Is there such a thing as too much introspection?
I sure hope not.
Some days I live internally,
Dive deep into my head, heart, and soul.
Analyze my thoughts,
soothe my heart,
and free my soul.
Those are the dangerous days.
Raw, bare, open, vulnerable,
Brave, free, and aware.
Other days I am external,
Pretending the internal things don't exist,
don't matter,
don't effect me.
I carry on as if
I know what I'm doing
and don't have a care in the world.
Until I realize that I am on rewind,
At which point I switch modes
and so the cycle goes.
In, out, in, out.
I wonder if other people do this
or is it just me?

Searching

Gray Sundays seem to inspire gray poems.

Trying to get back in the groove.
can be difficult.
Wind, rain, life
have erased the ruts.
Trying to find my rhythm
in a new song.
Trying to blend in,
not be noticed
any more than necessary.
Trying to find my place
in this world,
in my life,
maybe even in someone else's life.
Trying to continue on a path
I know too well.
Trying to set my personal GPS
to find new routes,
new places,
new adventures,
new people.

Life goes on

Well, everybody dies, right?

Overheard from a room

while I’m standing in the hall

Of the skilled nursing facility.

While my mother

Is in her bed,

And we’re waiting

For the medical examiner

And funeral home guy.

Yup.

Everybody dies.

And life goes on.

It just feels different.

I think she’s gone

“I think she’s gone.”

One minute I was touching her hand

The next I stepped away for the hospice nurse

to check vitals.

One breath

and she was gone.

Sitting here,

Waiting

for the medical examiner

to verify and note time of death.

And then the funeral home will

take her away.

Next step is the freezer

And then a box.

And that is why I can’t stop looking at her

Before they clean and process

Dress her up

And put her on display.

And then close the box

And bury it.

We'll murmur prayers, Some of us will talk about her life, We'll laugh, cry, smile. and hug. We’ll all take the shovel and drop sand on her casket. Tradition.

Long life, Full life. Four kids, that's a lot of spirit left behind,

For fulfilling dreams

And continuing to fill vicarious needs

Of a mother’s heart.

Marching Again

I get a little preachy. But one thing that comes up among us older folk is, here we are again, didn’t we do this once or twice before.

Marching again
For equality.
For democracy.
To be heard.
Marching for change
For something we believe in
Marching for
Freedom
Fairness
Equity
Compassion
Marching and using our voices
To speak out
For ourselves
For our children, our parents, our friends, people we’ve never met
Marching again
Because we care
Because we live in a free country
Because we want our government to support our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Marching because we believe in our country
And want it to be
The
United
States
Of America.

It’s time

It’s time.
Been too long without words
Which doesn’t mean the thoughts stopped
Or there was nothing to write about.
Life marched on,
Took some detours,
An wound up here.
There were plenty of reasons to write,
And a few repetitive excuses not to.
Water under the bridge,
So to speak.
It’s time.
To let the words out.

Affirmations about self

I am a writer. I am a good mom. I am a good person. I am doing better at understanding myself and taking care of myself. And sometimes I need to remind myself of a few things.

I am a writer.

I am a good mom.

I am a good person.

I am a role model.

I am a leader.

I am doing better at understanding myself and taking care of myself.

I am sometimes lonely.

I am often alone.

I am okay with who I am. Where I am. And what I am.

I have the power to change my circumstances if I really want to.

I have the power to make my own decisions and make my own path.

I am the person in control of my route.

I am the only person who can change me if I decide I need changing.

I am good enough.

I am better than good.

I am me.

And me is sometimes amazing.

Sometimes a mess.

But the goal is to

Always be me.

No matter what happens.

No matter who is in my way.

No matter what,

I am me.

And me is good.

Yes.

Sometimes I just need to remind myself of a few things. :) 😀

Strains and Breaks

Having a high threshold for pain

Can be a double edged sword.

Too patient,

Plus

Too ambivalent

Means staying In denial

for too long.

After a while the constant pain

doesn’t penetrate consciousness.

A dull never-ending throb

that becomes the norm.

As the break gets wider

and deeper.

Chess, anyone?

Two children playing

their version of chess

Bouncing horses,

Squealing and screaming

as pawns, rooks, bishops, kings, and queens

Leap and bump each other.

Cha, cha, cha, cha.

Sounds way more fun than

Real chess.

More spontaneous

And possibly more creative and satisfying.

Running Injuries Suck

Disappointed and tired.

Not a good combination.

More like a recipe

for personal disaster.

Hurt,

Wallowing,

Jealous,

Wanting to do what I can’t do,

Might wind up saying things

that can’t be taken back,

Guilt and regret

replace rationality and hope.

Knowing it’s a cycle

helps,

A little.

Family Puzzles

So many puzzle pieces

missing.

Not sure how many there are

or what the final picture looks like.

Which makes it hard

to complete the picture.

Which is why I call it a

Puzzle.

Puzzle

according to Merriam Webster's online dictionary.

Definition one: the state of being puzzled as in perplexity

Definition 2: something that puzzles

Definition 3: a question, problem, or contrivance designed for testing ingenuity

Bingo! Number three fits.

Missing pieces result in questions

and the problem of not knowing what is missing

or how much.

Which definitely tests

Ingenuity.

Not only is my life a puzzle,

But so is my family.

From whence i came.

Where will I go.

And how will I get there.