The truth is my patterns predate my injury. Most of them anyway. As the colors accent my dreams and my world comes alive, I am struck with recognition. Reviewing the day is not enough. Reviewing your life is painful.
Once I thought I had a lot of moral courage. It was the physical courage that eluded me. As a teenager, and a dramatic Leo, I thought of myself as the Cowardly Lion. My teenage angst was life threatening and the darkness grew in my soul. In my 20's I was filled with a strange second chance. The awakening that never sleeps. The knowledge that I was plucked from the night and allowed to live in the light. The understanding that a force outside myself was responsible. When my friend Linda hung herself in a halfway house on the roadtrip that never ended, I started to sense evil still existed. Was that 1985?
The last time I saw Linda she was driving a car that did not go in reverse. She parked on the side of Dwayne's restuarant so she could drive around the building to get out. Her car was filled with hockable items from her wealthy parents home. She smelled of Jack Daniels and Chanel Number 5. I gave her all my wisdom. In desperation, I begged her to get help. I told her Mick was a creep. I thought about telling her I had slept with him....it would have been a lie. If I thought it would have made a difference I would have told it. When she drove off I knew I would never see her again...."All my friends blown to the wind.."
So Mick became the personification of evil. Linda was a martyr to his sickness. This was confirmed for me when he tracked me down years later and basically wanted to try his charms again. Maybe it is the dark clouds and wind that remind me of the last time I saw Linda. That's the thing about remembering...You can't stuff the genie back inside the bottle when you want to...
Mick was evil, all right and I am sure he has left a trail of broken women in his wake. But Linda with her fragile ego and big eyes had a choice. Life was not fair, but she chased her anchors. I have to believe it was her choice. She chose to grab that damn anchor.
My patterns precede my injury....My anchors are the ones I have carefully crafted for future use. In different settings with different tools (some years so smart I could cut myself....lately a left brain hollow woman) my causes and conditions prevail.
So today my cowboy is back in the saddle. I second guess myself and think that I should be with Richard...a man that reads, a man that fascinates my higher self. But John took my daughter Sami to a noon meeting with him. I know he will sneak her a cigarette. He is more lanky lately and I want to touch him when I see him. It is nice to call it love again. It is nice to know he wants me. I'm not wearing a bra and his eyes travel. He will go back home tomorrow and he will miss me. It's nice to be missed.
If I have been hollow I am now a sponge. One thing leads to another. A woman who had a lot of affairs years ago, but was never addicted to sex. A woman who had a lot of opportunities to make a difference and squandered them..... A boom or bust kinda woman who thought that she could always count on her intellect and would someday make more time for her children.....
At 1:15 today John/friend /lover/handyman will bring home my Sami/the one who will never be in the closet.....Hunter/the soul who knew where he belonged will still be napping, while my Mother watches neverending soap operas. She returned from her Wednesday morning breakfast with her married nonboyfriend Old Man Bill.....I will make some phonecalls to the Nigerians (who don't answer when the rent is due) and will look over the certified letters that the Indian Owner is sending out to tenants. Then I may get lucky and have a make out session in a car.
In the scheme perhaps I was right...Opportunities abound again...although I am insecure I am beginning to think I am pretty bright and my children yearn for freedom from my futile but constant vigilance. My glass is half empty, but my bucket is full.
Colo
Colo
Colo 
