I was discussing the Iran/Iraq situation with my 27-year-old son last night. He is fairly jacked up about what’s happening, probably because he has friends in the military, and I don’t think he’s ever seen (have any of us?) such a scary situation, being led by nincompoops who are chest-beating egomaniacs with no experience. At one point I told him that my emotional state reminds me of when I was 11, in 4^th grade, during the Cuban missile crisis.

I remember all the duck and cover drills we had. Some in the hallway, some under our desks. My father was a Lt. Coronel in the Air Force Reserves, and I guess because he was the highest-ranking officer in our little town in Iowa, he was in charge of the reserves there. But my most vivid memory was of him coming to me, at 11 years old, at some point when that crisis was very tense, and telling me sternly, “If those air-raid sirens go off, I don’t care WHAT they tell you at school. You come home.” He repeated it a few times. I lived about 5 city blocks from the school and if I ran would be home in 10 minutes. The thing was it was one of the few times, maybe only times in my life that I sensed fear in him. I think he was asking me to do that, because I’m guessing that he believed he could get me to someplace safer than a brick hallway or under a desk because of his position in the Reserves. There was no question that I would try as hard as possible to follow his instructions.

The small town in Iowa where I lived had no strategic targets, but down the Mississippi River about 30-40 miles was Rock Island Armory, a huge depot of ammunition. Everyone talked about how it would be a target and back in 1962 I don’t think anyone thought a missile was so accurate that a 30-mile discrepancy over 1000’s of miles was not possible.

I was very very scared, to say the least.

I told my son last night, that as scared as I was then, as an 11-year-old, I had the same gut feeling when the bombs dropped on Iraq last night, and that I was even more fearful because we have a lunatic with his finger on the button, and no generals with any experience in a conflict like this because the lunatic either fired them all or they quit, unable to back him in his lunacy. Back then we had Kennedy, who despite his many flaws, I trusted not to be crazy, not to get us into a war. Those were the days before fake news, before people voted their pocketbooks over their hearts, before egos ran the world, before before before.

My son said he believed we would respond to the attack by Friday, as we repositioned B52’s to Diego Garcia, and called for troops to be increased to 82,000. I said that I just prayed that we would all still be alive by Friday. Then I realized that we had the capability to fire at Iran from anywhere on this earth, a capability they do not currently have. So I suppose that we are insulated in this country from attack, at least from without our borders. But the rest of the world? 1000’s and 1000’s could die if we don’t get this thing toned down. But you know, the maniac in the White House needs a distraction from his impeachment, I really believe that, so here we are. On the brink, with the ground crumbling beneath us.

Each and every one of us has to do what we can. Right now, I think praying, even if you don’t believe, is one of the few options we have. As the saying goes, there are no atheists in a foxhole. But if we make it through this, and in my heart of hearts I believe we will, we need to vote, we need to encourage people in real ways to vote. There can no longer be a silent majority in the country because this is where silence gets us. With leaders who don’t lead, instead of beating their chests with a war cry and blood on their hands.

If not now, when? If not me, who?

The hurt is beginning to dull, and I find myself feeling more free each day. I didn’t realize how much work that relationship was for me. To be constantly prodded to argue, when I had no interest. Rarely a discussion, always an argument, which I hate. I found myself having to constantly reassure the man that he had worth, and value. I gave it my all. I didn’t mind, because I loved him and I could see how, and why, he needed it. Though he would never admit that. It’s whatever.

On Sunday, he came to my house purportedly to get a tool he needed. He knew I would not be home. He not only got his tool, but about half his clothes, the 40” gong (which was his) and the buffalo drum, (also his). He only took his stuff. He also brought most of mine. So yesterday, I packed the rest of his things and a friend came with me for moral support to his house to drop them off. I thought he would be gone, since he’d said he had a dr. appt, but he was not. I just left his stuff on the front stoop of his condo, and left. Not wanting a conversation. His front door was open, but I’m guessing he did not want to talk to me either, because he didn’t acknowledge that he even saw me. That was good, that was what I hoped for. We had nothing to talk about, at that point.

As we (my friend and I) drove away, I was flooded with the sense of relief, that it was done, and that now I could move forward. Oh, there were a couple of things he didn’t bring me, simply because he forgot. But I let go of things quite easily, and none of it was worth knocking on his door to retrieve them. When I divorced my ex, I left with a couple boxes of kitchen stuff, my clothes, a bed, a dresser and a rocking chair. I just let go of the rest of it. Even though we’d been together for nearly 40 years, it just such a relief to be rid of that burden that I easily walked away. This relationship was only 2 ½ years old. Much easier to let go, but the sense of relief is quite similar.

Anyway, I’m hopeful that now I am beginning to move on. I have, obviously, returned to my writing. It’s always been my solace and my joy. My habit has been, for a decade or two, to write in the morning, with my coffee. When I worked I would get up at 5:30 or so, just to have an hour to myself for writing, meditation, coffee….before I left the house at 8:15 for work. When I moved, to Florida it was the same, though over time I started to get up later and stay up a little later. But he resented me being behind the computer at the table, so I stopped writing for the most part in the morning, which meant I didn’t write nearly as much. It was my choice, I picked my battle, and that wasn’t one I would have. I wanted him to feel important, so we would talk, but almost inevitably end up in an argument as his choice of topics was always political, and we rarely agreed on that. And, I frigging hate politics. I know what I believe, it is part of my being, and don’t need to try to convince anyone of anything.

In hindsight, it is probably not a good thing to try to build a relationship with someone who is diametrically opposed to my point of view. We were not James Carvel and Mary Matlin. Ah well, live and learn. Anyway, it is so nice to be back to my own thoughts, my own feelings, my own expression.

I still feel enormously sad for him. I know he did not want us to end up this way, but couldn’t stop himself. So yesterday, when my friend told me her husband wanted his phone number, I was elated. Yes, yes. Please! I would be so happy if someone from our group contacted him, because I know he’s sitting home alone, pretending he’s good with it. But I know he will miss our life, so I am happy if someone is able to include him even on the periphery.

Besides writing, I have decided I need a new computer. I am shutting down and rebooting several times a day to unfreeze my cursor or to keep it from jumping all over the screen. Since I’m writing more, it’s really annoying me. I am also really sad that the sound healing will be over, at least in the old form, since I cannot cart the stuff around in my tiny Nissan Versa. I think I could play by myself, because I only have one gong, but it wouldn’t be easy to handle that with all the other instruments. I think in the meantime, I may offer to do private healings in my house, for up to 5 people at a time. If I charged $50 an hour or $30 for a half-hour, I could possibly save the money for another gong. If it’s inside the house, one gong is plenty, since my house is tiny anyway. So I may put something together, so that eventually I can get back to doing it at the beach, or somewhere for a bigger crowd. I have not even wanted to play the gong for the last few weeks. It was our thing. But I’ve taken a long enough break now, I know the healing power of the gong, and I’m going to start to play it again, just for myself, then maybe for others. We’ll see, but that journey is not one that should end. It should just evolve, and that’s what I will endeavor to do.

The next thing I want to do creatively is to get back to my jewelry making. I’d like to learn some new methods, get active on my Etsy site again. It is an activity that I enjoy and uses another part of my brain. I have not been able to motivate myself for a long while now. I have my ideas about why suddenly I couldn’t imagine what to do with most of the stones I have. At any rate, I would like to return to it.

It appears I am putting my irons back in the fire, after a couple years of being told I should just choose one thing to do creatively. I never understood that frame of mind, at least not for me. Why should I limit my interests? I believe it was his way of justifying the fact that he had no passions of his own. Whatever. I guess I am still trying to understand why this relationship, which had so much promise in the beginning, fell apart. But I hope these posts will dwindle and die as I move on with my life. I don’t like to obsess, and it seems I’m doing just that.

So in the interest of moving ahead, I will end this post now. I thank everyone for reading this, as I walk the labyrinth back to the center.

Love and light to all.

Almost laughable
How you talk incessantly
Except when I ask

By Deborah E. Dayen

I guess my cough is slowly improving. Still there, still very annoying at times. I’m getting down to the last ¼ of my 3^rd bottle of cough syrup. And am halfway through the 3^rd box of Mucinex. I am considering going back to the dr, two weeks later, but since I’ve already had the antibiotics, I am not sure they can do anything for me. I think I just have to wait it out.

I have been alone through this ordeal of sickness. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. Dan and I are not together right now. I don’t have any expectation that we will be, but it saddens me. It is not just because I’ve been left to fend for myself. It has been coming on for a long while now, as I’ve watched him withdraw from me, even though he seems to deny it. Or at least, refuse to explain it. There is, was no unfaithfulness involved, just lack of desire. I know this because it’s hard to be unfaithful when you are together 24/7.

But I’m ok. I have learned in my life to accept what is, especially that which I cannot change and I have so tried to change it. But the change is his to make. I think somewhere in his heart, he’d like to but just can’t go there. So, I am back to my writing for the time being, expressing my pain here. Luckily I have an awesome group of friends here, and they keep me busy. I think he will miss being part of this crowd, and though he’s not kicked out of it, I know he won’t allow himself to be part of it if we aren’t together. It’s all his choice. But there’s no way to predict the future, I have told him my door is open if he should find that he’s able to share himself with me. It pains me to see him isolate himself from people who truly like him, truly enjoy his company. I don’t think he wants it, but he’s choosing it.

Enough said. Probably too much. I felt the need to say something, since he’s been front and center in my writing for so long. He probably won’t even find out I wrote this, since he doesn’t read my blog.

Love and light to everyone.

I’ve begun to rejoin the land of the living. Yesterday a friend came over and we caught up for a couple hours, then went to get a fish taco down by the beach. It was an exceptionally gorgeous New Year’s Day, warm, brilliant sun glimmering off the water in the bay. It was so good to hang out with a good friend. I came home, almost fell asleep on my deck reading a book, so came in and took a nap.

Today, I made it to the post office to pick up the mail I’d had held while I was away, and was so pleased to have about 10 Christmas cards in the pile (along with a few bills…). Then I made it to Walgreens to pick up a couple prescriptions. I stopped at a dear friends house, to return a pot that she’d brought me soup in, and we talked for well over an hour. Again, a gorgeous warm day here. I considered taking a walk down by the water, but went home for lunch and realized I was too tired. Still, it was a good start for getting back to normal.

I sat out on the deck again this afternoon, reading, this time not falling asleep. The breeze has picked up this afternoon and I guess by Sunday it will be chilly. But in the meantime, temps in the high 70’s in January is just such a delight. Still flip-flop weather. I got the house vacuumed, and am gonna try to go to open mic, at least for awhile, tonight. I miss all my friends. It’s just so nice not to be sitting alone in the house.

Well I guess I’m going to go roast some butternut squash that I can eat for dinner, and get in the shower for open mic. Love and light to everyone.