Writing Reality

Disrespect for human life. It's not the subject I'm picking at, that is the political one.  It's deeper.  It's not of a religious conscience. It crosses all boundaries of race, religion, color, creed, genders, well you get the gig here. It is of a truth. A truth everyone says they want. I'm seeing it and have seen it as it's quite converse than what comes from you. Out of your mouths. Your actions. What does rain have to do with it? It's philosophical.  Follow me if you wish. And when you do, if you have any conscience you will,  even just a little bit find fault with your thoughts of past and/or present. Yet I'm hoping, I affect your future thoughts and actions. Because by writing this I know I can. How do I know this? My mother told me when I started writing now over fifty years ago. I used to hide my writing. Because I knew it, before she told me so when I was age eight. Oh yes, I did listen to my mother. And I didn't talk back, at all. I walked...

  About eight years ago I sat in one of my physician’s treatment rooms. Her and I would have these talks,  even though we both were busy. But that’s what happens in most doctor’s treatment rooms I enter. There’s usually a philosophical overtone when I walk into their treatment room. Usually, it’s me to them. And it’s starts with a query from me. Like an innocent child would ask. However, it’s usually an ethical or scientific question that is gnawing at me for years.   And then it grows into a question to someone I respect. Someone that will give me an unbiased, straight up, and unadulterated answer. Responses have been from a gasp, to a drop of a folder, nearly always a pause. Yes, I really hit the mark with ‘Winner’ queries. And then an honest answer from them. And ergo the discussion time. I’ll apologize now for holding up the other patients behind me, who just want to get in and out. Most are afraid to be so honest with their physicians. It’s like it’s a waste of tim...

  The view as I traverse the sidewalks, paths, roadways I see most people appearing sublimely oblivious.  How? Most appear to disassociate from their present moments. It is seen with or without headsets.  With or without chatter on phones.  With or without chatter on hand held devices,  and so forth. Yes, those of you covering your ears and minds in the open air. Some have not ever ventured outside to walk or run daily or at all, till a pandemic took away your escape of over-socializing away. Needing external entertainment. The need to be with groups, clicks  and so forth to feel. To feel something.  That something that is within us. That which is meant to feel deeply alone, to understand oneself.  To understand one's self existence.  We have denied it, until we were recently forced. And when we were forced,  we appeared walking like drunk sailors wandering the decks of our roadways like ships being pushed in a storm.  But you s...

  It came in late July 2008, I began to realize I had a near seventeen year depression. It started as if my soul knew the future arriving the next month in the summer of 1991. And years of my life would be embroiled in a wicked hell bound torture fest, that I wouldn't recognize. What kept me from realizing this for seventeen years was, in my being extremely busy.  I had built a successful business.  I married Mr. Right. We adopted two children as infants and were now a happy family of four. I was able to work at my healing through running distances. We lived in suburbia, surrounded by trees, fresh air. A somewhat secure, safe location. The house we saved for and bought after 14 years of marriage was manageable. We had so much more than I could have ever imagined. Especially,  considering where I came from. I smiled a ton most the time, according to reliable sources. Coupled with a wicked sense of humor and great self-deprecation.  Realizing all this, I knew what...

There are many experiences that parents can have in common.  Well, that is if. A big 'if', if your child doesn't go to a trade school, doesn't go into the military, doesn't decide to do either, nor college, yet works full time. Everyone has a different journey.  It is perhaps all upto each individual. And each individual's situation. My experience as a child is by far a dichotomy to that of my husband's,  and now our oldest child. As a parent, there has been no one who I know personally, who will exact my experience with moving their child into a college dorm as a freshman. I hear dramatic scenes, told by parents or their children on how their experiences were. In having been moved or moving their child into college dorm rooms. It appears that others seem that they are less pragmatic and more emotional in their experiences in being the mother in these circumstances. So that is from a mother's point of view. So I've heard. Today, my old UltraRunnin...

  To this day I still look over my shoulder. There's a few reasons for that.  The first one goes back to middle school.  Mr. Tannenbaum's homeroom. Well, that's all it took to make me afraid of being taunted or assaulted from behind. Many of you reading this,  have no clue of the impact of trauma. Stop! This is not about sympathy. You see, it's where you were before that trauma. The trauma that was the 300th trauma or that about, from kid's doing and teachers witnessing, and not stopping what those kids did to you on school grounds. I'll give you an example or two.  It goes back to before this 'gum in hair' incident in between homeroom and class changing occurred.  Which was the trauma after the lunch homeroom break trauma occurred where someone slipped what supposedly was in essence fake drugs into my pencil case. That I had opened in front of Mr. Tannenbaum, his assistant, and the kids in my front row seating.  That was just three minutes prior to...

Years ago, as I worked on an elderly client in my office.  She stated, "You always think so deeply."  I replied, "It just happens. " She asked. "Isn't it tiring?" I remarked, "I never really thought about it that way." Of late, I've come to terms rehashing the essence in which we live. It seems as though, I alone am connected.  Connected where? I can answer this, 'not where most of us are' I feel more present than I witness in others in society. The presence that I haven't witnessed, is one I feel and acknowledge. No one appears in my realm.  I witness some in too much anger,  having too much greed, entitlement to the degree they will skirt the lines and even step over into a criminal context. Looking nearly compliant as they do so. As a matter of fact, I've been a witness to this practically all my life. This brings me to a feeling of not belonging.  Or as I have decided. I am part of something that has its own dest...