One Person

I remember the day
You came into my life
We had ordinary conversations
And yet they were more than that

Little did I know
That day I first met you
How you would change my life
In so many ways

I can hear you now
Telling me how you've hurt me
But you couldn't be
More wrong

You were that one person
Who believed in me
When I didn't believe
In myself

You gave me strength
When I was weak
Love when I felt unlovable
And most of all hope

It only takes one person
To make a difference
And for me
You will always be that person

Thank you, my friend
For loving me unconditionally
And telling me I deserve to be loved
Even though I am so flawed

Thank you, my love
For putting up with my insecurities
As I learned to be secure
As you taught me so much

You are just one person
Flawed and yet perfect
Wise and gentle and wonderful
One person I'll always love

I Found You

As I let go of all the pain

let go of the hurt and the hate

my heart was open and empty

and love came in

As I learned that jealousy

happens when I am insecure

and that passive aggression

is just immaturity, I have grown

As I began to understand 

myself and all my faults

I gained insight into others

and their shortcomings as well

When I let love come in

I began to understand and grow

And as I gained insight

I found you.

Venturing Out Into the Unknown

The unknown is a terrifying place
I am learning that every day
I hate it
But I can't get to a better place
Without first venturing out into the unknown


Originally published November 17, 2010

Learning

We are all students

in a lifetime of learning

what can you teach me?

Some of life's lessons

I must fail before I learn

eventually.

Determination

is all that is required

to learn anything.

Originally published November 12, 2010

Standing at the Water's Edge

I walk down to the ocean
Carrying my fears and insecurities
Hesitantly I step onto the sand
Weak, fragile, and alone
I falter and stumble
Wobbling in the shifting sand
Feeling my way to the water
One sinking, sliding step at a time
I grow tired, my burden heavy
Leaden legs the pain spreading
I unburden my load and rest
Forgetting it on the sand
Trudging onward
I fall into a rhythm
Letting myself look ungainly
Because it feels right

The more I relax
And let the sand dictate my pace
The easier it is to move
And my footing becomes firm
With each step forward
I gain new confidence
Focusing on relaxing
Feeling my strength grow
The roar of the ocean unnerving
A cacophony of sounds
Drowning out my thoughts
Bringing a deafening silence
The sea salt spray sandblasts
Wearing away self-doubt
Eroding my facade
I am left with me

The dawn slowly lifts
Newly born out of the waves
Pink and peach then glowing golden
Bringing light and warmth
For a moment as it rises
The sun seems trapped
Against the crashing surf
I wonder at the unseen chains
Sympathizing, I have my own
Invisible shackles pulling me down
Struggling spirits united
Breaking free to soar
I tentatively move closer
The waves and the water pull me in
Calling in a voice
That only the soul can hear

I am afraid of the deep, the unknowing
Fearing what lies beneath
I am alone and vulnerable
Easy prey for my fears
Testing the water
Feeding the waves one toe at a time
Hungrily they lick at me
Eating away my fears
The water is cool yet warm
How is that possible?
Impossibly soothing
Calming my fears
Standing at the water's edge
Listening, feeling, smelling
Senses reeling
I am finally centered




Originally published October 8, 2010

In Your Shadow

I am content

to stand in your shadow

sit at your feet

watching, listening, learning from you

for now.

One day soon

I will take your words

stack them end to end

climb up and jump off

and soar.

Until then

I am content

filling my mind

and my soul

with you.

Originally published September 23, 2010

Life lessons: What are you?

What are you?

Notice, I'm not asking 'who' you are but rather 'what' you are. We all have a name we call ourselves; usually given to us, sometimes chosen by us or our friends, usually two or three names strung together, but sometimes only one. While we 'know' each other by these names, rarely do they convey anything at all about us meaningful. So, we label ourselves. We package our identity in words and phrases designed to explain our various functions, jobs, talents, and desires to others. We then use those labels to make decisions about ourself and others.

The moment you were born, and with the medical technology now commonly available often long before your physical birth, you received your first in a long line of labels--son or daughter. Your sexual identity was proclaimed and tagged with the simple sentence, "It's a boy". Next came your introduction to your place in a pecking order; you were either the oldest, the second child, the youngest, or a combination of these things. Sometimes it took years to know if you would be the middle child, or the youngest or where your final place would be. Eventually, this was worked out and you were properly labeled.

Your physical circumstances became labels whether you embraced them or not. Some of us are thinner than others, some are fatter. Some have blue eyes, some brown. Your social circumstances play a part as well. Many get married and add labels of 'husband' or 'wife' to their growing resume of identifying descriptors. Some become parents. Some own pets. We move through school and into jobs. We identify ourself by those things as well.

Beyond these labels that have been applied to us in terms of our relative families, our physical attributes, our fields of study, or our job titles, there are the labels we apply to ourselves. These do not necessarily have anything to do with those that someone else would apply to you. You might consider yourself to be a 'musician'. Others hearing you sing or play might disagree with your assessment. 

It is those self-applied labels that I am wondering about today. What do you list? What don't you list? Why? And, would the people around you who know you best agree or disagree with them?

Some of the things I call myself, like photographer, are things I am relatively competent at but don't pursue as a profession. Others, like musician, are things from my past that are now dormant and not necessarily still parts of me but are labels I'm not yet ready to discard.

Yesterday, an essay by Scott Roche titled "Aspire?" got me to thinking about the label 'writer'. I have been wrestling with the labels 'writer', 'poet', and 'editor' for a while now. I've had a hard time claiming any of these as parts of me. I have hesitated to own them. In large part, because they are relatively new to me. There is also the idea of competency involved with being able to state that I am a particular something or other.

I do write. Almost every day. In one way or another. I am hard pressed to remember days where I didn't create either a blog post of some sort, a poem, or an article. I edit things for other people almost daily, from large novels down to bits and pieces of miscellaneous things. Even as I recognize that I do these things, I have still been reluctant to claim them as parts of myself. Why?

In part, I think it has to do with the fact that so many of my friends are writers or editors these days. Most of them grew up writing and knowing they were writers. They have been crafting words for years. This was most definitely not the case for me. I had a difficult time even learning to read and didn't become a voracious reader until I was ten when I was given the first six Nancy Drew mysteries by a friend of the family who had noticed me struggling to read. From then on, I read constantly. While I read everything I could get my hands on, and could tell someone what I liked or didn't, I couldn't tell them why. Nor could I get my own thoughts or ideas out in any kind of coherent fashion. I avoided writing all the way through school. I would wait till the last possible moment, get a random topic from a classmate that fit the particular type of paper I was required to write (compare and contrast for example), and on an adrenaline rush, crank out the minimum requirement. I usually got a B. But it was a torturous endeavor that left me in a cold sweat for the rest of the day. The only reason I think I was able to write even to a B level was the detachment involved with writing about something random that I had no emotional connection to in any way. When I tried to get my own thoughts out, I end up with a disjointed mess of randomness and not quite getting to the point. I'm hoping this essay doesn't become a case-in-point.

My editing is the same way. I know what sounds or looks right to me. But ask me why, and there is a good chance I'm either not going to be able to articulate it, or the answer will not be in terms you would learn in any English class. Having said that, I began to own the label 'editor' long before 'writer' in part because while I have a lot of insecurity over whether I am a 'good' editor or not, I know I am editing. But that is a question of qualifying my abilities as an editor and whether or not anyone else values my work as such. For now, I have decided to own it. It has become a part of who I am and something I enjoy immensely.

Calling myself a poet was also difficult for me. I've always thought of poetry as such a difficult craft, a rare and beautiful art form requiring painstaking delicate precision--ballet in word form. I hesitate to even say I write poems as more often than not, they write me. How can I take credit for something I didn't really do? They seem to be born in front of me. Often, I look back and read through them and don't even remember creating them. But whether I labor over them and rip them from myself, or they appear effortlessly, I am finally acknowledging them as my creations. And so, I am a poet.

While I have come to call myself a 'poet' and an 'editor' I still had a difficult time saying, "I am a writer". I have attempted to write fiction. Not very successfully. Somehow, I had the idea of 'writer' confused with 'writer of fiction'. I have been writing blog entries for almost five years now and recently started writing non-fiction articles on knitting. for whatever reason, it has taken me a very long time to be able to label myself as a writer.

Perhaps my reluctance with all of these is the desire to have qualifiers in front of them. I want to be good at these. And, without some form of acceptance, I wasn't willing to lay claim to them. I enjoy these things. I wouldn't be struggling to write this now if I didn't feel some sort of need to express myself in some way. That said, I don't want to do these things without some sort of validation.

One of the biggest changes I have been slowly going through is learning to give myself validation. Not just in these things, but in all things. And, in learning that lesson, I can now say that in addition to all the other things I am, I am also a poet, a writer, and an editor.

I would never have been able to learn this lesson (or so many others) without the love, support, friendship, and patient teaching of so many friends. I am inspired and instructed by so many people, their words spoken and written, in public and in private, each and every day. So, thank you, Scott, for sharing your thoughts yesterday and in doing so, helping me clarify mine.

Life Lessons: Opinions of Me

As I go through my days, there are moments, either through conversations with friends, personal observation, or perhaps even divine intervention, when I make realisations of who I am, how I function, or suddenly understand some great truth of myself and/or my world. I call these things life lessons. I can't know how valuable these thoughts will be to anyone besides myself. I do know that they are very meaningful to me.

Many seem so simple. That is often the beauty of these. Many are things I already knew subconsciously. Finally recognising them with my conscious self seems to be as beneficial as learning things that seem completely new and surprising.

From time to time I will share some of these life lessons in the hope that you might find them beneficial in some way.

Today's life lesson came about when a dear friend expressed an opinion about me that was very kind and at the same time completely contradictory to the opinion of someone else in my life.
And so, my life lesson concerning opinions of me...

Every opinion of me is valid. Each is a piece of the puzzle that is me. That some are in conflict speaks to the individual relationships I have formed. The whole of those opinions matters more to me than any individual one when considering my character and behavior. I have the power to change some people's opinion of me, but not all. That I can't change someone's opinion does not make it any less valid. It does not mean, however, that it defines me. Only I can define who I am for myself.

I am Learning

I am learning

to trust

and believe

in myself

the way you do.

Your Face

Your face
tells a story.
Is yours one
that you would want
to read?

Learn to love yourself.
If YOU can't love you
how can you expect
anyone else
to love you?

Muscle Memory

I just had a really long three day weekend.  Out of the three days I spent almost a full day in my car (22 hours give or take a bit).  Of that time over 18 hours was driving.  I might have had 10 hours of sleep total in during the three days. I have learned (as a result of this weekend) that I shouldn't be behind the wheel for more than 5-6 hours if I am going to be by myself.  That aside, I would do this again in a heartbeat!

I went to a one-day conference called Create South.  Create is an acronym.  It stands for :

C = Carolina

R = Regional

E = Exposition of

A = Art

T = Technology and

E = Education

It is held annually in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

My original motivation to go was to meet some twitter friends in person and maybe learn a few things that might help me with my business.  My secondary motivation was to learn more about this world of writers, podcasters, and tech oriented people that I stumbled upon.

I didn't think of it as a vacation.  I thought of it as "networking" sort of.  I'm terribly shy when it comes to "putting myself out there".  I don't as a general rule go to places where I am not going to know anyone.  I don't get panic attacks but I think I come close.  If I meet someone casually one-on-one then I am fine.  So it was with more than a little trepidation that I made the decision to attend.  It was a spur of the moment sort of decision.  Maybe my subconscious knew I was ready.  I'd like to think that.

I did end up getting together with my twitter friend and found out that they are even better in person.  Most people are but you never know.  I spent most of my time Friday evening talking about art in general and photography specifically.  That first evening all by itself was worth the drive.  I hadn't talked to anyone about artistic choices, motivation, perspective, composition, or really anything concerning the creative process (except writing) in so long that I don't when the last time even was.  I say that I am an artist.  But as is true in athletics it is also true in other things that if you don't use certain muscles they will start to get flabby, to atrophy.  But, once you start using them again they will regain their old strength provided you keep using them.  But the muscle memory is there for the particular sport they were trained in.  Photography is my original sport, artistically.

There were lots of people there from a wide variety of disciplines: writers, podcasters, tech people, artists, and just creative people in general.  People willing to have an open mind.  People looking for others to inspire them.  People looking to inspire others. People wanting to engage each other in discussions and in learning.

These are creative, inventive people.  Many with tech backgrounds.  Self proclaimed "Geeks".  So, it turned out that I was not alone in the nervous area. And, I probably wasn't the shyest person there.

If the two friends I walked into Create South with knew that they were my "security blankets" in terms of knowing someone else there and being able to find them and touch base with them every so often as a means of not feeling like I was drowning in a sea of unfamiliar people, then they didn't let on.  I can't imagine that they were unaware. They're just really good people. That sentence easily describes every person I came in contact with over the weekend.

I realized as I figured out which presentations I was going to attend that I was most interested in finding out about some of the publishing options available.  I had said to my former co-workers that I want to do a book.  A knitting book.  Now I'm not so sure.  I don't know if my heart is really in something like that.  I do know I want to improve as a writer.  I want to create a story.  Not just certain scenes.   So, I got a bunch of information on publishing that is really relevant and very interesting.  Did I talk about my writing?  Not a word.  I'm even having a hard time dealing with talking about it this much, here.

I didn't push myself to come out of my shell while I was there.  It felt like enough of a stretch just to make the leap to go in the first place.  Someone then told me after the fact that I should give one of the presentations next year.  On my yarn.  Or my dying process.  I immediately said that, "No.  That's too much.  Too big a stretch."  

So, I had another discussion, with a different friend today.  About my inability to talk about my writing.  About how I loved talking about art and photography and creativity.  He told me that all of the different creative things I do all come from me.  He made me think.  Maybe it's not about yarn.  Maybe it's not about color. Maybe it's not about photography.  Maybe it's not about art in general.  Maybe it's not about writing poetry or erotica.  Maybe it's about me.  Maybe it's about the creative process I go through regardless of which medium I am working in that day.  Maybe it's about the ADD that seems to be present in so many of the creative people I have met lately.  Maybe it's about learning to function with ADD so that I can be a productive member of society while still keeping those parts of the ADD that make me the creative, scattered, shy to the unknown, uninhibited and open to those I know, crazy person.

Oh, and it was most definitely a vacation.  Never underestimate the power of the ocean to fix something you didn't even know was broken.  The sunshine was a bonus.

I'm already making plans for the trip down next year.  With company in the car.

Happy Anniversary & a trip to CREATE South

Yesterday marked the 4th anniversary of this blog.  I can't believe that it's still going strong.  There were a lot of moments (like all of 2008) when I thought, "Why bother?" and almost closed it down.  But the biggest reason this is here in the first place is to make me put my thoughts down and examine them.  From the mundane to the sublime.  And, at the four year mark I feel like I am just starting to really do that.  It feels like I am just beginning.  I guess that is a good thing in many ways.  I could do with out the new kid feeling when it comes to all of the tech stuff but *sigh* I guess we take the good with the bad.

This weekend is going to be a whole lot of good.  I'm heading south for a few days.  To a one day conference called "CREATE South".  This is the 3rd year for the conference, my first attending.  I'm really nervous about stepping out of my comfort zone and going somewhere completely foreign to me.  But I am also really excited to meet in person some of the people I have been talking to on twitter for a while now.

I am hoping to meet a lot of great people, put some faces to the twitter names, and learn as much as possible about the changing world of technology  and social media and how it all relates to the arts and my yarn business. 

I'm taking the camera and the blackberry (like I ever leave either of them at home) and an open mind.  Hopefully, I'll have lots of cool stuff to share when I get back in a few days.

So, time to hit the road.....