motheralice

thoughts randlomly dropped


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Light the torches…

… go into the Earth.

 

“The releasing of anger can better any medicine under the sun…” – Pantera, Mouth for war 

 

I’ve given myself a couple of days to consider the recent turn of events.  I’ve (sort of, not really, kinda, but not quite) forgiven folk for their votes.  At least the ones who were fooled (willingly) by the spin.  That shit is dizzying at best and entirely destructive at worst, so… there’s that I guess.  I wish there was a letter T movement so I could see who deliberately voted for hate- the ones who look at me and wonder why I’m out of the kitchen and wearing shoes (!!), the ones who think my gay friends really do deserve to be stoned, the ones who would kill or deport my friends who are not white.  There should be special glasses that let you see to the heart of a person.  Alas, not yet. 

 

I’ve considered options for my response, and discussed them with Bear- he’s so level headed and an excellent sounding board, especially when I am in full freak out- and we’ve agreed that it would be best for me to stick with my area of ability (expertise feels too ‘experty’ and I’m not sure I’m that at all), so bearing that in mind I’ve begun doing review and research on my plant allies.  As a woman, a mother, and a human being I have always been drawn to work with herbs.  It’s time to broaden my scope and up my game.  I think I need more lists to further distill my ideas, but teaching friends and family how to find and use plants that can help them is at the top of the list- especially those folks who rely on mainstream medicine to keep their hormones balanced, prevent unwanted situations, and generally care for themselves should the need arise.  This hasn’t been a big focus of mine up til now, but I’m thinking it’s time to remedy that.  If you can grow and make your own medicine, then you can carry on a little better in hard times.  Maybe a study group would be useful?  More to consider and discuss with folk I trust. 

 

I am moving forward cautiously, feeling my way in a place that has suddenly become dangerous.  I have good friends, strong friends, loving and kind friends, and I am so grateful for that.  I’ve taken up my gratitude practice again and that has helped me see past the rubble of the tower a bit, into a ruined garden filled with dormant possibilities.  It’s time to suit up and move some stones, and re-create a safe space for my tribe.  I’m so proud to know that I will have the help of my men in this work.  

 

Can I just say how abso-fucking-lutely proud I am of my guys?  Throughout this whole cycle of shitstorm they’ve stood by their woman (me) and by Women and humanity.  They’ve been just as shocked and appalled by this whole thing as I have.  Not once have they looked at me and wondered why I’ve been so upset, so disturbed.  Rather, they’ve been my rock and allowed me to be theirs.  If nothing else has, this proves to me that I’ve done alright as a mother.  I couldn’t be more proud. 

 

I am seeing many folk talking of suicide, in the wake of this result.  This makes me so very sad- that folk are so frightened and downhearted that ending their lives seems a better way.  My thoughts are a little tricky in this arena, but here goes…. 

 

Your life is your own, for better or worse.  Situations that are out of your hands, health that feels impossible to sort out, feeling unloved/uncared for/ hated, despairing, the utter bleakness of depression.  This is a call only you can make, ultimately- but I urge you to talk it through with someone you love who loves you back before you make that choice.  A human being, sovereign in and of zemself, has every right to end their life if they choose, but I feel it is not a choice to be taken lightly or in the heat of a moment.  Make the choice with clear eyes and a clear head.  Remember that all things change and you are valuable because you *are*. 

 

Don’t quit the fight just because you’ve found yourself in a corner- use the leverage and move the world instead. 

 

 


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Recent lessons

It’s been some time since I even gave a thought to blogging.  Or writing of any kind.  Needless to say, my brain is a jumble of nonsense and the important and everything in between.  I know writing is good for me, helps to sort out all the dross and cobwebs…. I just… forget sometimes that I have to actually DO it.  Or get preoccupied with whatever is happening in the moment.  I have blog envy for those folks who do write consistently.  Even if it’s only every 3 months, they’re like Old Faithful.  Heh. 

 

So.  Life. 

 

I’m starting massage school in the Fall.  It’ll be 20 months of intense learning (hands on and book) and then I’ll be certified in all sorts of massage types.  I’m looking forward to it and keeping fingers crossed that I can retain all that info.  Saw examples of my course books and they look pretty hardcore.  Bear and boy are fully behind me and aware that I’ll only be half here a lot of the time for that 20 months.  They’re making a plan.  I love that they’re making a plan.  I am also in the beginning stages of making a plan, but got slightly derailed by a…..

Pulled Calf Muscle!!!!!

 

Can we all say ‘No Fun At All’? 

 

See, part of the plan (that got slightly derailed) was ‘be more fit’ and it involved strengthening my cardio system (because I was panting after going up 10 steps, or something).  So my friend Irish says ‘you should try the Insanity workout, it’s fucking ridiculously tough, but I’m seeing great results.  And I says to meself, I can do tough- I’m not afraid to modify the workout to fit my needs.  I’ve got this.  And I did. 

For 4 days. 

I modified the workout.  It was still, in fact, Fucking Ridiculously Tough- even modified (that was the point after all).  I forgot to also modify the recovery days.  So when my calves were SORE (like stairs make you cringe because you not only look like a goober but it hurts going down them) for 2 days I thought ‘I’ll take a day off Insanity and just walk today and get back to it tomorrow’. 

 

Did you catch the foolishness in that last sentence??  I did.  The next day.  During warm up.  Mummy kicks (which I found to be one of the easier exercises, ironically).  And as I’m doing mummy kicks I abruptly hear ‘POP’ from my right calf.  fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

 

This happened on Tuesday morning.  I was supposed to perform at my Halau’s luau on the second Saturday following.  Can we all say ‘Disappointed as FUCK’?  Oh, by the way?  I couldn’t drive either, the first week and a half.  So I had to seek out a ride to everything.  Which made me feel like a total pain in the ass.  I have a whole new appreciation for those who are injured/handicapped and have to ask others for help, and also for people who have to hobble along.  Be nice to them, they are probably Very Annoyed by their lack of speed and are highly aware that everyone around them can move at the speed of light and has to wait on their pokey hobbling ass.  At least, I have been. 

Anyway. 

Luau came off well, and in the end I was terribly disappointed I couldn’t dance (so no surprises there)- but I did chant and drum, and that was FAB.  And I’m healing.  It’s been 3ish weeks and I can begin to seriously consider that I might walk normally soon.  Ish.  I can stretch it, gently.  I can drive (which is a MAJOR WIN).  I feel less helpless.  That’s a pretty major win too.  I don’t do helpless, it makes me cranky and mean.  This is good to know for future reference and as a flaw I need to work on, but finding out has sucked for all involved.  I’m pretty sure Monkey wanted to stuff me in a closet and leave me to my own devices more than once, since he’s been the one around me most during this.  Bear is working 2d shift now, so he’s out of it during the day.  I’m getting better, though.  And being nicer (my inner editor has her work cut out for her). 

 

I’m resuscitating the plan and altering it and giving myself recovery time (even though I’m antsy to be done recovering).  Just means I have to start in a different place and maybe at a slower pace than the original plan called for.