The one thing right in front of me

one half of a wedding dress,
one half of a ring,
one box of two shoes . . .
unworn, waiting.

My Dear Concubine

Touch me on the chance my concubine will dance - like the tiny ballerina twirls round and round and round treasures of golden chains and diamond reins in my girlhood box of charms.

Touch me - hands close and familiar - for my muscles shiver and my skin quivers as my bones recall the ancient tales of chivalrous suitors in shining armor with razored edges.

Touch me with the shrill of your sword and call forth her rebellion - fighting and crying, yet dying to obey her lord, his every wish . . . do this so that I, face to her face, can impale her and all her misguidedness.

My breath, my death, my fear, my shrine,

My dear concubine . . .

'tis late my turn,

your urn awaits.

Beautiful music to fly with

Spiritual Surgery

My heart hurts from behind. It crept up on me, the pain. It began between my shoulder blades and my ribs seesawing through my chest like a jagged blade with every breath. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. I thought I had slept funny. I applied warmth with a heating pad. Nothing. I slept clutching extra pillows. Nothing. It'll go away in a few days, I was told. It has to run it's course. You must have pulled something. You must have slept funny.
After a few days I could finally take a deep breath again. I could move a with a little more ease. The pain was still noticeable, but not as debilitating.
It moves around in there now. From right to left, but mostly left. And it began to hurt in the front of my chest now. Yep, my heart hurts all over now - front, back, sides. Today, it feels more like the workings of a surgeon's scalpel between my ribs as my anesthesia wears off.
God gave me this rib and no one is going to take it from me.
Ah, I think I just got it . . . he's not cutting away at my rib or my heart . . . whatever or whoever is doing this is cutting away the damage; my injury.
I've heard some say that our shoulder blades are like wing bones. Maybe what I'm experiencing is more like growing pains. Maybe I'm growing my wings. Ok God, I can deal with that pain.

Lotions, Potions and Magic Charms: A simple meditation, as learned by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of "Eat Pray Love," while on her personal spiritual journey through Italy, India and Indonesia . . . A simple meditation: SIT and SMILE :) even smile in your liver . . . simple and powerful.

This is what I now know: I know that today, I do not know, and that is a good thing.

He said / She said: In passing, also, I would like to say that the first time Adam had a chance he laid the blame on woman. ~Nancy Astor, My Two Countries

A special note of importance: For anyone out there who wears rose-colored glasses through a field of land mines - I heard this said on Oprah yesterday: STOP wearing your wishbone where your backbone should be.

Of Mice and Men

Last night I dreamed of a mouse. But it was not a usual mouse - it was much bigger, and it had a very cute, harmless, Disneyesque face . . . like a child's stuffed animal.
Yet, it still scared me. It kept staring at me as if it were going to move closer to me.
"I don't know why it scares me . . . " I said (really hoping to convince myself not to be afraid of a mouse) to my sister Judi - who was next to me.
"... it's just a mouse." I continued, never taking my eyes off of it in case it were to move closer to me.
She laughed a silly, sisterly laugh. "That's a rat." She told me, still laughing.
I think I may have already known that. I think I may have been trying to deny that fact to ease my fears. But I was still not at ease - even with telling myself that it was just a cute, harmless mouse, and I am much bigger than a mouse.
I wanted to run. I felt it wanted to come with me. There was a sad look of longing in its eyes which, of course, pulled at my save-the-world heart strings.
But, in the end, I did run away from it. (I'm still running.)
I ran to my car and quickly drove away.
I somehow knew I had to . . .
even though I was the bigger of the two of us - and still am.

Potions, lotions and Magic Charms: A walking meditation - a walk in the park with my Emmy Lou on this warm and absolutely gorgeous fall afternoon.

This is what I now know: With the passing of each new day I am moving that much closer to Love and my soul's desire.

He said / She said: "Womanhood is a beautiful thing. We are beautiful but also intelligent, graceful yet strong, underestimated and overlooked but unforgettable. We may be hurt or subjugated, but we are never broken." Jennifer Reed

A note about the artist: (The following is all I could obtain about this artist: Jennifer L. Reed. I am not sure how old this information is, so if anyone has any new information, i.e. current contact info, please let me know. Her e-mail address is incorrect.)
Jennifer Reed is a recent graduate of Daemen College. When she was at Westmoreland High School, where she graduated Saolutatorian, she took advantage of electic art classes. At Daemen College, Jennifer studies painting--her greatest love in the art world, as well as art history, drawing, and some graphic design. She graduated Summa Cum Laude with a BFA in Art painting specialization and a minor in business administration. She feels that artists should be diverse and lifelong learners, as all forms of information can be used in one's artwork. She is currently making plans to attend graduate school to earn an MFA in studio painting. Jennifer hopes to one day be a professor of painting and to influence the artists of generations to come.


* The painting above is called: "Lost In Dreams." With the artist's permission, I would love to use some of her artwork as a compliment to my postings, as her paintings and her philosophy as a woman and an artist harmonizes beautifully with the values and purpose of Sacred Footing.

Dead Man's Float...and other rabbits in my hat

When all else fails . . . dead man's float. Warning: you may get so good at it that you will forget how to swim.

When my skin had wrinkled beyond human recognition and there were still no planes or boats in sight, I realized I was not going to be rescued . . . at least not by any outside force. So I began to flail my arms around in a feeble attempt to swim and save myself. That was when I began seeing the light at the surface fade into a slow black as I faded into a deep blue.

Rock bottom . . . I felt the sharp edges pierce my skin so I knew I must still be alive. But, what to do next?

All these years I thought the dead man's float was the best and the worst I could do. Now I see that my ingenuity and quick thinking kept me a prisoner. Had I surrendered to those feelings of the fear of the unknown . . . the fact that I did not have all the answers . . . I may have learned a thing or two . . . like how to temporarily live like a fish while I heal myself and grow new legs.

Because, that's the thing with us humans, we are like the starfish; we have an amazing, mostly untapped, ability to regenerate. In fact, some starfish can regenerate new from only one ray (of hope) left.

So, I am at the bottom. I am without reference. I am left with one ray. I will soon find out if I am one of those starfish.

Potions, Lotions and Magic Charms: cold cucumber slices placed over my eyes to decrease the puffiness; a glass of wine to decrease the pain.

This is what I now know: I have been trying to embrace what I have come to find out is the holographic image of myself . . . out there, not the real me . . . in here.

He said/she said: A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction. ~Oscar Wilde

Just another blurb about a loser

Huh ????? What the F--K is a blog ??????? That's what he wrote as his one and only blog on a popular website - a page on the site which I just recently learned he had (along with the motive he had behind it).

Now, being that we had been a couple for over a year, and being that I am a writer and I myself blog, one would think he would know what the f--k a blog is. (One would also think he would be honest and open with me, as I have been with him, and share the fact that he has a personal web page.) But, obviously, he did not care that much to learn what was really going on in my life and with my writing. He did not care that much, enough about us to be open and giving, honest and sharing.

I learned about his world . . . about the custom bike building business, the Biker Build-offs, the Easy Rider tours. I even took the Motor Cycle Safety course, passed and earned my cycle endorsement. Hooray for me - I have always wanted to accomplish that!

I am that way. I love to explore new things, expand my world of knowledge, and learn new skills. I am like a chameleon; so much so that I sometimes lose myself in the process. Well, not anymore. The lessons I have learned this time around have brought me a new-found clarity . . . and a fear of fire.

So, without much more said, and without giving him anymore of my precious time, I will end it there. I did end it there.

I just needed to vent for a moment before I could write anything of real meaning and substance.

Today I start fresh - on this Sunday in December – my Birth month.

He burned me . . . so it is only appropriate that I leave him in the smoke of my burnout!

Kiss my dust . . . Aaaabubeye