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Posts Tagged ‘bravery’

Hiya First Pagers!

It’s been a while, I know.

I so very deeply love the community that has developed here over the years… we’ve shared much.

I haven’t been blogging for a while because I needed to reconnect with my 3d world, although I’ve missed this space you’ve helped to create.

Summer is approaching which means I’ll have time to let all my creative juices start juicing… or something like that.

In the meantime…  here’s a little video to let you know what has been happening in my wonderfully messy world ~~~>

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Last week on twitter, when hearing the news of Roger Eberts death, I tweeted this:

If cancer has blown your world apart, every time you hear of another death, a piece of you is cut out and trampled on.

It must have struck a chord with many others, it was “retweeted” and “favorited” and passed around many times.
It was what I was feeling, I didn’t know Roger Ebert. I used to watch Siskel¬†and Ebert on Saturday mornings to see what movies they were bashing and sometimes praising and often I’d argue with the TV screen. But hearing of his death, like hearing of the death of Nora Ephron, or that girl I went to high school with, or the grocery checker who was always so nice… it affected me, they all affected me.

Cancer has blown my world apart, so often that I’m not sure if it was all one big explosion or several smaller ones linked together, like a mega roll of firecrackers rolled out and lit… the bangs go on forever — I hate firecrackers.

The aftermath of cancer, the picking up of the pieces, the stringing reality back together, the return to a normal existence… those are the things that take longer than it did for the cancer to take over a body and destroy it — cancer lingers. When someone dies of cancer, it doesn’t end there, because cancer has invaded you, your life, your world is now a world that contains cancer. It has you in its grips forever, you are never free of it — death does not destroy cancer.

It is the constant background noise to your life, the ceaseless ringing in your ears. I am not brave before it, I cower, I lower my head, I try not to be seen by it. But, it makes sure I know it sees me, there is no corner dark enough to conceal me from it.

I forget, briefly, in those periods in between hearing how its taken over another persons body. I forget. But, never for long. The periods of forgetfulness become shorter each day. Each day I hear of a friend who has been diagnosed, a spouse of a co-worker, a favorite professor, a screenwriter who made me laugh. When cancer has blown your world apart, every time you hear of another death, a piece of you is cut out and trampled on.

Pieces of me are scattered around — pieces from my father, pieces from my mother, pieces from my brother-in-law, pieces from my dog, pieces from friends and co-workers and friends of friends and complete strangers… I have been trampled on by cancer.

I wish I could tie these thoughts up like a beautiful package under the tree on Christmas morning — when you open it, out pops bravery and triumph and fearlessness. But, that’s not the case. There are no ornate pink bows big enough to cover up cancer… it’s ugly and ruthless and cunning.

Often now, my fear and cowering is accompanied by an over-bearing hatred. Maybe that’s what we should hope for, that we become so pissed off at this monster that we are moved to action, not just reaction.
After all, if you believe they put a man on the moon, the ability to stop this creature shouldn’t be far off.

Please visit the following sites:
Lisa Bonchek Adams Giving Page
Lisa Adams
Lisa Bonchek Adams Blog
St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital
Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center
Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt

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I am here
though I wonder where that is
a trail heading forward
or winding back around
a bridge crossing the stream
steady
strong
a few wobbly planks

I am here
looking in every direction
testing which way the wind blows
scattering my thoughts like pollen
following each nudge forward
curious
brave
imperfections are beautiful

I am here
dancing with my thoughts
listening to my life
singing my own song
the words float through the air
cartwheeling
tumbling
but always, I am here
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don’t forget to visit my new Etsy Shop!
Becky Brewster Sain’s shop on #etsy http://etsy.me/VsVXu4

or, click over there ~~~~~>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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untwisted creations – Etsy

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the moon is bloated with the thoughts being cast its direction tonight,
so many people staring up at the same sky,
we’re alone,
until that moment we realize we’re not,
that moment we see the moon hovering above with all the thoughts of complicated beings just like us.

we think a touch can’t heal a broken heart,
a glance can’t fill an empty soul,
a laugh can’t scare away the lingering darkness of nightmares.
we think we are useless.
we listen to our lies.

the moon hangs in the sky daring us to stare and be cradled in its glow,
it creates a path out of darkness,
we follow,
it leads us deeper into the night,
shining on the brokenness of the others gathered there.

we can’t mend the torn stories in our mind,
playing doctor with each thought before we let it loose,
we crave wholeness,
clinging to the pieces we should have thrown away,
we listen to our lies.

the moon slips behind a lingering cloud,
we hold the fading light in our open hand,
we are still,
hoping the glow will brush back the night,
all of us staring at the same sky.

we pause.
we listen.
we offer silence and hope and understanding.
we gather the broken pieces and the scattered truths and the hushed epiphanies.
we stare at the bloated moon.
we listen to each others lies.
we brush them away.
we leave them behind.
we grab our complicated stories.
we ignore the lies we tell ourselves.

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look across the open distance
a light
glowing
leading us to where it is
showing us everything in our path we have no worry from the things we can not see because the light is always there never fading bringing us back on course when we sway too far but even the light knows we have to walk in the darkness, alone, sometimes

… and yet
when we are standing under the light we can only see what is close and we are afraid to look past into the unknown of that darkness because there are things waiting for us out there

underneath the light it looks different
faint
small
the light only reaches those few feet in front of us
we squint and make our eyes small to see just a little further we force our eyes wide open hoping we can see past the barrier the light has created with the darkness so careful to stay in the boundary of that light because the darkness overpowers us and strips us of the want to move rooting our feet in the ground below we are powerless to move beyond

… and yet
from this distance we can see there is nothing to be afraid of and the things that frighten us stay away from the courage that leads us forward, always forward

the beauty of the distant light
calming
drawing us near
we navigate the obstacles in the path leaving the barriers behind we are not moths drawn to a flame we are strong complicated beings moving forward through the often darkened path sometimes afraid but courage is born from the fear that so often halted us now we will soar to the distant light, alone, sometimes

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Thank you Hyde Park Poetry Rally!

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I wish you could feel how tightly this grip is wound around my soul,
it cuts off all the oxygen that lights the candle flickering in my heart.
I pause and look and twist my way to try to loosen it.
I squirm and yell and curse and it never unravels, but I do.
I begin slowly like a single thread from your sweater that gets caught on a branch as you leisurely stroll by. You pull it, quickly, trying to remove it before further damage is done but you aren’t quick enough. It begins to unravel, more and more with each attempt at stopping it… it unravels until there is a hole — one that is visible to everyone who walks by. They try to pretend to not look, to time their glance with the movement of your eyes so you don’t catch them.
But you do.
You see them peering at the hole that started so small but now shows the world your fleshy skin underneath.
And it all started with that grip.
The one I placed on myself to try to snuff out all the worth that others could see because I didn’t want anyone to see. I wanted to be invisible, to slip under the wave and never be seen… I wanted to meld into the crowd of ordinary people gathered at the ordinary coffee shop to talk about their ordinary lives because no one pays attention to them. Everyone walks right past all those ordinary humans on their way to some other place. The place everyone wishes they were.
I wonder how tightly the grip has them.
I wonder if they smile so no one sees the unraveling.
I wonder if they laugh so no one hears the distant scream.
I wonder if they squirm when no one is looking.
That grip.
So tightly it holds.
The bruising can not be concealed.
and then…
I stop.
My movement.
My breath.
My anger.
My fear.
I breathe — deep, slow, deliberate.
I will every ounce of life into my lungs till I can hold no more.
I am filled with the life that I am claiming. It is mine, unmistakably mine.
and then…
I exhale.
Slow.
Calm.
Steady.
Peaceful.
That grip.
The steady stream of pain subsides in that instant I decided to not notice because noticing only gives it the power it never deserved. I stopped squirming and fighting and reviewing the repeating scenes — I stopped waiting for a change… I am becoming, I am becoming.
The grip is there…
always there, attempting to enforce its power over me when it knows I am barely breathing and trying to be small and searching for answers that don’t exist and wishing I was invisible.
But I am not invisible.
I am alive, still.
… the grip, it loosens.

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awake and unafraid

maggie and milly and molly and may ~~

ee cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

 .

here

in the very best possible way… you are small

dig in your toes

breathe

let the ocean wash over you

proof, you are

awake and unafraid

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