So Much For That

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Balance.

 

We need balance

in what we eat

what we wear

what we read

and how we conduct ourselves

in a Universe that demands

for our survival.

Balance.

 

Why is it then

that the ground under my feet

and the thoughts in my head

careen from one place to another

and never make sense.

 

Where

are

you

Balance?

 

Why do you hate me so, avoid me at every turn, never answer my call

will we ever be friends?

Will I ever know you

Balance?

 

RDP Tuesday: balance

Inspiration Has Teeth

When I was little

my Dad’s mother

insisted that my cousin, a tiny fair-skinned naturally blond child with blue eyes

looked like Shirley Temple.

She insisted my cousin was talented  and special in all  things requiring God given gifts like singing and dancing and being charming.

I was not tiny or fair-skinned or blond.

I did not have blue eyes.

I was told my hair looked like a rat’s nest because it was dark and long and usually messy and that my skin was ‘muddy’ and that I had a ‘grating voice’.

But my Dad’s mother did offer me a bit of constructive advice.

She advised me to develop some kind of talent and to work on my personality because I concluded by the unkind smirk on her face,  that was my only hope at not being a total piece of human wreckage.

I can’t tell you how successful I was, but I’m an okay writer and I’m great with dogs and I’m not afraid to take a punch and my best talent is that I can roll my eyes up into my head and I have no feeling in part of my face so I can stick pins in there and not feel a thing.

Combined with the eye rolling thing, it’s pretty spectacular.

As to my talented Shirley Temple look a like cousin, I have no idea how far her natural God-given talents took her.

She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with my Grandmother or the rest of her immediate family after her Mother died.  Trust me she had her reasons and I don’t begrudge her that. She moved away in her twenties and never looked back.

I, on the other hand was there  just before Grandmother died.

Me and my rat’s nest hair and ‘muddy yellow skin’.

I  wonder if she was disappointed that my face being one of the last she saw and not one that belonged on a Christmas card.

It’s not one of the questions that I wonder about and it certainly doesn’t torture me because

without a doubt

I know the answer.

Daily Addictions Prompt: Develop

Good Anita Marie…Good Job!

When I know I’m being hard on myself or the people around me I have found a great way to approach and change this less then attractive and mean spirited aspect of my personality.

I pretend like I’m dealing with my dog.

I have infinite patience with my dog, I never say mean things to my dog, I approach my daily relationship with my dog  and all it entails ( ha, ha, entails, get it? ) with positive energy instead of dark and fierce negative  Jupiter force windstorm  speed ( they clock them at 384 miles per hour) type energy.

When I’m with my dog, my phone is never with arms reach and when we are out I never answer it or use it unless he does something super cute and I need a picture of it to share with my Facebook friends who like Hamish more then me.

I’m actually okay with that because he IS  pretty darn awesome.

When I envision what the best Anita Marie is like, I go full circle and at each point in that circle see a different Anita Marie with all her various talents and entertaining sideshow type quirks,  I always want to land on and be the person who has learned to be a better human from her dog.

That person is actually a good person. I’m proud to know her.

So if it can be said about me that I treat my friends and family like a dog- I will know with absolute certainty, I’ve done good.

amm

Daily Addictions Prompt: Circle

Go Out And Look


I’ve just finished a biography about  Giordano Bruno  by Ingrid D. Rowland

Giordano was a friar, a writer, a poet and Bruno believed that the Universe was infinite at a time when the understanding of the Universe was somewhat sketchy and that sketchy view was the accepted view.

Giordano studied and contemplated and wrote papers and poetry about the Universe and the Earth and God- and at the point he actually went out into the world and experienced it- the good and the very worst that humanity had to offer- Bruno had been  willing to accept it as it was as it was.

It happened that after studying  with other well heeled young men who were sent to be schooled in a religious order in Philosophy and religion, and law some of his fellow students ended up with keys to the tavern next door and apparently did  they not only carry weapons they carried on with the local ladies too.

Maybe it was at this point Bruno began to realize that people and the world were bigger and less easy to define then he may have concluded.

It took some time but eventually Bruno made the leap from observing the world to participating in it because it was no longer fine and acceptable as it was.

In the end Bruno was burned as a heretic because one of the charges leveled at him was that he did not believe that the bread and wine he took at communion was actually flesh and blood.

An institution demanded blind obedience from him- if he was told that wine was blood and bread was flesh, that’s what you saw and that’s what you tasted and to deny that was to deny God.  End of story. Full stop.

The tragedy was, Bruno was a man of faith and he did see God in all things. It’s just that what he saw was different from the accepted vision.

Now days we are being told that we need to deny what our own eyes see and that unless we see the common accepted vision we are ” Libtards ” or “Uppity “. We are  silly ignorant dupes that have been conned by Scientists and Professors and Teachers.

The common vision being put forth where I live  dictates absolute obedience to a dream world spun into existence by a man and his followers who treat  people who are different from their shared fantasy  as obstacles that they must subjugate in order to have their more perfect union.

So I can rage against this- and I have.  I can back a candidate to the hilt for President and hope for the best. I can keep up with current events.

Or I can do what I have been doing.

I read, I listen to music, I enjoy art and I write. I have been doing that more then I ever because I want to remember that there are good things in this world  and these things deserve my time and attention.

I’m not ignoring that the world is an ugly, vicious place. I will not deny that I have severed friendships with a sense of malicious pleasure because I have zero inclination to ‘listen to the other side.”

Like  Bruno I have come to a time in my life when accepting and working with the world with patience and understanding as it is,  is no longer acceptable to me.

I’ve made that decision because “listening to the other side”  will only work when you’re serious about learning something new with respect and a sense of decorum or you are passionate about becoming enlightened about a topic and frankly, I’m not seeing any of that in the ‘conversations’ people want to have with me.

So why did I chose the picture at the top of this piece? This silly picture of UFO and  Bigfoot riding the Lochness Monster as he apparently flips off the photographer?

I chose it because  the Universe is an infinite place and within that infinite space anything is possible and unless you stay flexible to that reality it’s not going to be a happy place for you.

If you’re going to demand the Universe bend to your will in a predictable way-through politics or crystals or herbs or religion, I’m sure it’s not going to work.

My view is most certainly  not based science, but I think that is how we all got to this cage we are in now.

amm

RDP Friday: FORECAST

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is Anybody Home?

 

What makes a house a home?

Is it really just walls, rugs, a well used couch and a somewhat ok bed, is that drawer in the kitchen that we used to call a ” utility drawer ” until we come to the realization that a drawer full of sort of used  birthday candles and expired coupons for hot dog buns and fondue skewers for a fondue pot that disappeared back in 1984 wasn’t full of helpful items to anyone except  maybe one of those geniuses that can make nuclear reactors in their garage with salt, wire and lots and lots of tinfoil.

I suppose you could say those things contribute to making our houses a home.

But all of us know what makes a house a home are the things that live and die inside of it.

A mixture of humans, pets and in some cases reptiles, birds and fish can make a family.

They all have wishes and dreams and hopes and all of them can close their eyes or have them shut by someone else and Death can stand there in his dark robe, scythe in hand   and wonder why the candy dishes are full of empty candy wrappers from three Halloweens ago  and phone chargers that might still work  and NO candy.

I have always believed that if your house doesn’t have a ghost or two, if there aren’t stories about a body buried in the basement or next to the house where the garbage cans are then I am sorry for you.

You have a house, a home you have a place to stash your unread books and clothes that don’t fit anymore. It’s a place to keep the rain off of your head and has a door to shut firmly against the infamous wolf who finds it’s way to a door or two or three, so songs and stories say.

I have a home where the doors open and shut for no reason at all, I have a black cat with round yellow eyes named Darwin and a dog named Hamish Macbeth, I listen to Opera when it rains and Swing music when I’m happy.  I have a collection of books near my dining room stacked neatly  wrought iron  shelf that I was inherited from a dead woman I thought I knew well.

The spines on my books have been carefully broken over the years my books and they are all  about Voodoo, Santeria and  Embalming, Astronomy and people with adventure in their veins and darkness where their hearts used to be.

I also have  a collection coloring books that are almost completed- some have pictures of cupcakes.

I have a thing for cupcakes.

My dreams may be dark and my humor is suspect in some social circles but for all of my strangeness and quirks I have a home just like everyone who lives on my street and on streets just like it

And I haunt it every single night.

Daily Addictions Prompt: Resident

Count On It

Photo by Jonathan Petersson on Pexels.com

When I was learning to play board games and card games I always lost.

I.

Always.

LOST.

No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much effort I put into it

I.

Always.

LOST.

The crazy thing is, I kept getting board game and decks of cards for birthday presents and Christmas presents  and it was a joke because when my family set the game up anyone could predicate that

I.

Was.

Going.

To.

LOSE.

 

This little note about me  was as predictable and it was a solid stone cold fact that when we went out for a meal my baby sister would always spill her drink.

Every.

Single.

Time.

 

The Sun will rise, the Moon will set, the planets will twirl.

And

I will always lose at games.

 

After years of never wining a

Single.

Solitary.

Game.

I refused to play games anymore.

Because

I

Was.

Always.

Going.

To Lose.

 

I

Think

I have learned a

lesson- whether it was a good lesson or a bad lesson isn’t the point because in the end

the epitaph on any tombstone will say that

 

She.

Never.

Played Games.

 

This is not  such a bad way to be  remembered.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Daily Addictions Prompt: PREDICT

 

Ghost Of An Idea

 

Photo A.M Moscoso

When I worked at a graveyard I used to hold back the urge to knock on the tombstones and mausoleum doors

and ask

” Is anybody there? Is anybody home?”

I wondered then and I wonder now,  what I would I have done  if someone had answered:

” Yes I am, why don’t you come on in and sit with me for awhile.”

That’s not the part that  stopped me from putting my hand to stone and asking if anyone was at home with their eyes capped shut and  their once fine clothes, selected by care and sometimes duty now covered by dusting of  mold and their small dark world  surrounded and filled  by a spider web of  decay.

The thing that puzzled me, that stopped,  me was wondering was

why was I always so sure I would say

Yes.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Addictions Prompt: Decay