". . . the thing you are shall make you live and it will never make you do anything less"

Why blog? If I read a blog and I feel nothing really “shows”, no “slip” is hanging out or no feelings are exposed, then I don’t have a reason to ever want to come back and get more of the same . . . nothing, really. I know people read my blogs. Rarely comments are left. But I know people come back. I don’t have any tangible material as to why, but I have well over a thousand visitors per posting over at my other blog as a relative blog-newcomer, so since my stuff is more personal than the other stuff I see, I’m surmising others want what I give . . . sharing my thoughts and feelings. Feelings. That thing that is so special about human beings being human. I’m willing to be vulnerable. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

. . . So . . . . . . …

This is personal. But that’s what I do best.

I feel so good and I have no one to share it with, so I am writing this blog entry. If there is anyone out there listening and “getting” me – cool, so cool. Anyway, I just took my daily walk in the typical place, down my street, turn left, turn left again and walk down Mitchells Lane until I turn around at Wyatt. This was a great walk. I had the cd playing in my ears that I made for dancing to for last summer’s Rwandan Women’s Center fund raiser. It is gray with heavy fog mist, but my heart is so ebullient and my spirit so light that the sun is glowing on the inside. I loved the green ground, the golden past-prime plants along the road, even the browns of the trees of branches. I’ve done virtually nothing today and it is 4:15 p.m. already. Only my yoga, leg lifts and trivial stuff. My weights will be next, then I will finally do what I planned to do – start filing all this paper laying around, some in folders, in boxes, others just laying around. I know this has to be done before I sit down to write the article for the Rwandan genocide anniversary, April 6, *discipline myself to organize my stuff for my book that I will write, record my singing and poetry on a cd, work on my sculpture and figure out how to get my singing and poetry recording on my blog. No small feat – the blog mechanics. Not exactly my forte. (Musical terms – love ‘em – has nothing to do with two music degrees, just love that I know some Italiano: )

*Discipline, now there’s a word. I was raised with so much discipline that I had no idea where I began and where my mother ended. It’s taken a lifetime to figure that out. Thank Goodness I have lived longer than that lifetime so that I could enjoy being me. Outlived Mozart a couple of decades already.

I love being impulsive again. After teaching for 3 decades of my life where children responded to my impulsivity but also needed routine to feel safe and secure in my classroom and after living in a committed relationship for 15 years most of which was very lonely – being free of both of those things has led me here. To my life of welcoming impulsivity, liberated reservations and limitations, an unadulterated joy of life and a reaffirmation of all of my feelings and vulnerabilities. I AM so happy with who I am. I don’t want to sound boastful or superior. If that is the way that you see me, then I can’t help that and I’ll just shrug my shoulders. Because I would never give up how I feel about myself at this time in my life. Several years ago (that is 7 or 8) I wanted to die. Seriously. Every part of my life was dismal and I didn’t have my self together enough to withstand the unbalance in my life. No body in my life had his or her life together enough to bolster me up with sustenance to bridge the gap from wanting to die to wanting to get up every morning and feel like I feel now. I fought the meds offered me and basically did it the old-fashioned way. I worked through it all, minus the fog of prescribed medications and never a drink or any unprescribed drugs.

I am so excited about life. I look in the mirror and wish it was the younger skin there in the mirror, but love that beautiful spirit that is visible in the eyes and the expressions that I play around with in the mirror. I am so in love with who I have finally found in there, inside of this mortal body. I have been high in love before but it was with a male, not with who I myself was. But I wager now that even those times of being so high on life and in love, were really just a reflection of myself. One man actually said that to me once. Maybe he got it way before I did.

I wonder about him. But not even a google brings him up.

Any way, I feel good today and I wanted to share with someone. So whoever you are – I am sharing it with unknown you. We all serve a purpose of sorts. Mine is to be happy. And I am.

“To believe in God is to know the thing you are shall make you live and it will not make you do anything less." from Joseph Pintauro’s little book “To Believe in God”

NOTE about the Picture: When I was in my twenties, taken in Rockport, Massachusetts, aka Cape Ann.