March 22, 2017
This day last year I stood on your doorstep, and told you that Miller had died. Four days ago we stood with so many others and celebrated Matty’s life. They were both your age. Kids you knew, kids we both had significant connections to. And they both died the tragedy which your very existence provided me a most narrow escape from, so many years ago. I owe you Thomas. It has been a bizarre little year, and hard to believe how much changed, in only 365 days. How much you have changed, in only 365 days. How much ‘we’ have changed.
We shared a roof again for the first time since you flew the mama-coop almost 7 years ago, and you got to experience mama’s home world in a much different capacity, as an adult. During that precious, though most difficult cohabitation (we know why, but this isn’t about mama’s romantic escapades), I was gifted with many insights into who you have become, a view that I could not have glimpsed in the course of a less closely-quartered relationship, consisting only of weekly drive-by-huggings. I treasure that unexpected and challenging time we shared.
The kind, sweet, compassionate parts I have always known were readily visible, as always, to my ever-biased eye, and came as no surprise. They have been an integral part of you since the moment you took your first breath, and broke my heart so beautifully, on this day 26 years ago. At 1:29 p.m., Central European Time, to be precise.
Sharing space again was not the challenge, rather the battle we each waged with our respective demons-of-the-moment, which then manifested in our adult-child/childish(?)parent duo. A most welcome revelation during that brief roomie-relationship last spring and summer, was witnessing you put into practice, under highly inauspicious circumstances, some of my oft repeated, and most relentless teachings:
- Stand up for yourself and above all, for others when they cannot!
- Question everything, use critical thinking skills to analyze everything and everyone in the world!
- Be willing to re-think and revise your own beliefs, always!
- Question and challenge me, and mine!!!
That last one was/is hard for you, and I am tempted to apologize but I won’t. You did, you do good with it! I don’t make it easy. I know.
To my utter chagrin, I also watched you demonstrate some of my ‘best parenting,’ in a number of your habits, confounding, even provocative and head-strong ways of being! I can but express my remorse and regret for those bits, and forge ahead to lead by a different example than the one I obviously provided you at some point in time. Neither mama-flagellation nor Sunny-bashing is the purpose of including this piece, it is important though, to me, that I live with a more balanced view of my heroes. For not even you, my most beloved, all-time favourite human on this planet, in the galaxy, the universe, are perfect. And for me to live with that skewed perspective is a set-up for you, and for me. Because it damn well hurts when our heroes fall off the lofty pedestals, upon which we situate them. That in mind, I will only raise you to an altitude we can both withstand a fall from. Because we will, fall. Splat.
Watching you this last year, the softness you had for your babi during her painful struggle, and for me, having you close, through some of the hardest times you/we have experienced to date, and holy moly Bat-boy that says something (because have you met our life?), has yet again, been my ultimate saving grace. Once more, I owe you Thomas.
Twenty-six will be fabulous BabyCakes, and I look forward to more! More surprises, more challenges, more of everything we have always known together, more crazy, and more learning, about ourselves, each other, and how to evolve and function even better, individually and as ‘the set,’ we have always been. I can only beseech my atheist Ungods that we will always be, that set. ‘Always’ being so fully and inadequately impermanent and all, but you get my point!?
No words, no language (not even profanity), suffice to describe the gift of your presence in my world, for 26 years and counting. Who says I can’t do long-term relationships?! Our relationship has evolved, and not without serious growing pains, to something it has never been before, something I am loathe to label in any way, other than to say it is more grown up. On both ends. Which means you’re right on schedule, and me, well, sorry, bit of a late bloomer in some areas of life…
High five SunnyBoyManChildBabyCakesSnookemBooBabyCzechThommyCzechBatBoy (did I get them all?), we did well! No, we did fucking awesome! Yeah, that’s better, we did Fucking Awesome!
Happiest of happy birthdays to you child!
With the Maddest of Madd Love,
She, Valkyrie cradles tattered remnants a slaughtered spirit, in her intrepid care. Goddess vision greets wounded gaze and I beseech her, to choose life, for an oft wounded, heart. To Valhalla for mead, and her. Salve for the psyche, soul and flesh, of gods mythical, and mortal, and their concubines. ~Marcela: beautifully lost, in a real-time myth, of my own creation. February 18, 2017 Image: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valkyrie
Limerick I have crushed on a sailor named Zeke His ‘Salty’ some havoc did wreak On pink oh-so-tender Defenses useless he rendered With nary a peek or a tweak
Haiku On a tranquil sea A salt and pepper Sailor Quells this raging squall
Cinquain Let’s sail said the sailor my vessel’s safely moored in the haven of (y)our harbour moon’n stars
Yours, fairly unfettered: Myla
February 12, 2017
Poetry and Photographs: All Rights Reserved.
It is tragic in its fitting-ness, that the long sought (perfect) light fixture for my beloved cage, is from the Marcel(l)a series, from no less a cultural cage than Home Depot.
The perspicuous view, the vistas upon which I gaze from my current prison, pain me greatly.
~Marcela: quite fettered, and bereft of gilding on the cage.
January 17, 2017.
“Stop,” she said to herself! “Do refrain from accusing the accusers, from negating the Nellies negative, from despising the Debbies downer! And focus, on the freedom that comes with designing, with owning, your feelings, your thoughts, your life and your choices”!
“Know,” she said to herself, “that as long as you are breathing, life will bitch slap you, over and over again! Feel the fury, agonize in the pain, and then stand up to her like the fucking Warrior Woman you are.”
“Love,” she said to herself, “self above all, for it is not an act of ego, rather the only real survival skill you will ever need.”
~Marcela: Moving, at the speed of a woman Too Much!
January 02, 2017
Photograph: My personal collection. All rights reserved.
It is not that I was in need of repair because you broke me, for I was never broken
It is that my voice was lost in the roar of the tsunami that was your disdain for me
And as a new blanket of white refreshes the grime of salt and snowplows
So renewed faith in self cleanses my heart of the detritus you left behind
It is not that I was the dung you believed to simply wipe off your sullied soles
It is the vehemence with which you shoveled your manure onto my person
And as the streetlight on the far shore casts a long glowing ripple across the lake
So another crack opens in my heart to allow the light back in
It is not that you succeeded in extinguishing it with relentless revile
It is that I erected shelter for my very core
And as I turn the plans for this, my most recent incarnation into fruitful reality
So I recognize your singular, constructive contribution to my life:
I choose not to forgive you for the myth of forgiveness as salvation is not my creed
I will, however, put you behind me with nary a thought to our dalliance, beyond these words:
I win. Not despite your efforts to destroy me, but because of them.
And I feel nothing for you.
~Marcela: Newer than this year.
January 01, 2017
Photograph: My personal collection. All Rights Reserved.
And as the lake reflects nature’s finery back onto herself So I reflect on the solitude I have come to crave It is not that I wish to isolate from humanity, or reject the risk of a new paramour, It is that I revel in alone-ness with the passion of a new love for my own cosmos. And as the stillness of the quiet-season brings peace to my beloved Bay So the pain of my most recent faux pas is diminished in its tranquility It is not loving one who cannot love that I regret It is that I am wistful about having snatched up your well-baited hook of love-lies And as the snow-laden branches dump their white weight, and spring to a more contented position So the Warrior Woman I am exhales to release you and I find myself here: I stand well-grounded and know that what you did, only served to create this: More big, more bold, more strong, more beautiful, more wise more too much for some, but most especially, much more too much, for you. ~Marcela: As is. Only more. December 27, 2016 Photograph: My personal collection. All Rights Reserved.
I can be Bad-Ass, quite often Kick-Ass, with a strong leaning tendency, toward wild noisy Jack-Ass. Sadly, more recently I’ve been a big Dumb-Ass but rarely to never, am I a C(r)ass old Tight-Ass. At 55 plus, I still have a great Ass, And in the midst of life’s bitch slaps, I remain S(assily) yours: mostly to always, one Wise-Assed fun (L)ass… . Grammatically incorrect and chomping at the bit for 2017, and the next bit of Bad-Assery, ~Marcela. December 31, 2016 Image from: Google Images