truebluegenuine-blog

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A Rose Among Thorns

For as much as there is pain, there is also beauty for all of those who find the thorn & the rose. You cannot have one without the other. There is never a gain without knowing the pain of a loss...for such is the cost of living. It's always up to you on whether life is more about giving, taking or growing in pleasure independently or together to better the self & all others. The thorns of the world in such growth, host hurt in both side & pride, but they can never take away the beauty of what you see by just being yourself - as sweet in scent & sight as the rose, even through all the times those who opposed you prefer for you to wither, you still grow in another way for another day of seasons & reasons to carry on. A heart that blooms its beauty like the rose, always knows a way to grow. Always.

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Rocky Point Lighthouse, PEI

Lone lady tower light before the harbour....in your solitary beauty, magic & tragedy by the sea is where I find a comfort & kinship with you. Just beyond the other side of your cliff, lies the city that lives without you. They see your light in it’s distance every once in a while across the shore view miles that keep you both together & apart, similar to unrequited love that sees no sunrise on the horizon , despite the glory in hearsay stories of its warmth.

Regardless of the sadness, you shine on anyway. Every lone lady has to do what she has to do...even you who stands & shines on for the sake of all that is true in herself.

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The Women I Know

Life is a dream, whereby your eyes wake from some season or event with a reality check. My eyes see time going by through crone, maids and mothers. My own family tree blossomed for forty years in such beloved matriarchy, whereby only memories exist now. A humble station in life, allows me to see a wide variety of other women and walks of life, as they come and go with their own flow of time, dreams and seasons of reasons.  A maiden comes in with a few of her friends, giggles galore as they walk by with their eye on the grocery store stock boy. All have left the close knit vicinity of mothers, in favor of comfort in small numbers with each other as hormones and high school take over. I remember those days of my own. They were but a dream behind my eyes of memory, lost to the cost of time. Later on in the day, a mother makes her way around the corner, smiling and piling the cart full of a number of items for her husband and children’s on the go meals. Her life as a mother is cast as a balancing act of work in a two income household. She’s chief, cook and bottle washer, along with being a chauffeur for all those extracurricular kid soccer & hockey games. How she does it all ...I’ll never know. Out the door she goes with tired eyes & a face with enough grace to still smile. As a spinster, I cannot identify with her life, but I admire her strength and spirit. A part of me wishes for some similarity of having children and a partner, yet somehow, neither appeared in my life. I chalk it up as a life lesson in how the cookie crumbles, or the egg carton breaks in haste and waste down aisle three of this establishment and destiny. The crone makes her way into the store later today. In regularity, she usually comes as early as she can, but that doctor man wanted to see her about changing medications for stronger doses as her body grows weaker. The days of mother for her turned grandmotherly with time. I hope they treasure her as much as I did my precious Nanny. The crone whispers to me before she leaves, about how hard it is to see old friends who were once her maidens, head down the road to the hospital or funeral home. My heart goes out to this salt of the earth old girl. She still finds a way to make it in a world that leaves her with a meager pension check after years of family raising, hard work and a wedding band still on her widow’s hand.  Life is the dream and these are the characters in all their archetypes of seasons for our feminine persuasion.  Many blend into the character like a work of art filled with passion and heart. Although I seem to fit no place or trace near such dear ladies, there is still a space to tell their stories of beauty and glory in past, present and future of maiden, mother and crone.  Homage to them is the heart of me that recalls the memory and ghosts of my own maid, mother and crone family tree. I am thankful for all of you. Thank you for being you.

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Even Sorrow Smiles

Days run together & blend without tenderness for the bearer of common misfortune. Direction becomes tiresome upon the body & the mind finds it harder to put two and two together by merely rubbing pennies no longer worth a wish for providence. All this and more can make the strongest fall to the floor as hope goes out the door or locks you out altogether. When all appears gone, carry on in hope along with the rhythm of heart & soul that still beats. Your way to go has always been the powerhouse inside yourself. When some leave forever, the ones who matter stay together as deep and true as blue in the sky. Dry your eyes my dear & always realize, it is you who has the bull by the horns. Sometimes your strongest form comes after your weakest & bleakest moments. Carry on as only you know how....life & time have a way of working out ....one way or another.

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Sunday City Nights

Hand in hand young fresh faces walk the streets at twilight this evening. Their senses are hanging on every word the other says like a symphony of love. Such a never ending is what they seem to be depending on as lasting, until the gray hair appears along with frost and winter through their bones and years together. These are the keepers. Not the ones you would see at three in the morning leaving each others arms forever after this era’s single culture booty call was overhauled & answered yet again after another party filled weekend. I ask myself ...had I once belonged to the former or the latter of such keepers or leavers ? Perhaps neither would be the better answer. The night is lovely as a lonely highway hangs in front of me beckoning back to the country. A stereo plays all the sentimental sad songs that recall a light headed time, instead of this heavy heart of mine that fills the years with views of old ghosts and hopes gone as fast as the song came on along with time that waved goodbye as fast as a Sunday greets a Monday.

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Her Strength

Everything started to fall into place, just as the lines had begun on her face....all the years of feeling lost & going in circles, had finally come 360 into the clearing. Although life would still be filled with challenges & hardship, she was strong....soft in kindness to those who deserved it & hard as rock to those who were not.....no one would chip away or steal her strength, or discover a way to create an avalanche in someone built as hard as rock from all the former knock downs & let downs. You see....that's the thing about getting a slug or two or more, from those you wish you never knew or walked into ....as much as they would like to win with seeing your suffering & knock down....a strong woman never stays down. She saw enough sorrow in many yesterdays, enough to never let the future or even the present, call the shots or dictate more of the same at any cost. She knew there would always be those out there who had to crow loudly about something. There would always be those people with life on easy street, or bigger trophies to flaunt & jaunt in a cock of the walk strut.....but so what ?! Her reward was knowing none of those material wonders mattered. The strength & wisdom inside of her was infinite reward. It would never tarnish

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Time and Time Again

Something happend in the last handful of years. It was one of those things that you just can't put your finger on, until its time to reflect on such aspects and yes ... to even use those fingers to clearly count up what you could never put your finger on before. What am I talking about ? I am talking about time. My darling & dear readers, I have reached a point in my life where one realizes in all highest definition & fashion possible, that there is not as much sand in the hour glass of life anymore. Predominantly, it is not as it was once was at all. I am noticing the amount of deaths in family, friends and community is becoming a form of the norm more than ever before. I see my parents aging. The faces of my peers are gathering and storing lines, as if they were emotionally laden stories upon the face instead of the expression of softened fresh spring in youth. Although, I have a few lines thus far...fat don't crack, and this body breathed its metabolic last of former and slimmer glory. What's the point of the story ? Could we add it up as the sands in the hour glass subtract ? Yes, in fact anyone can.....and you do not need a math teacher, philosopher, or a bucket list to do it either. If you too are at the stage of life where you find it is becoming closer to less, don't despair. You got this ... without a bucket list. Enjoy & respect all those around you, take pride in what you do, be kinder and learn to hold your tongue with everyone, express your emotions ....tell that someone you care about them, give yourself a break and a breather, but always get back on the horse & ride....you are alive and there is still time left...to do all this and more. Not everyone needs to visit or can afford to go see the pyramids of Giza or the Taj Mahal. A sweeter life is not far from your door....if your heart, mind and soul are in it for the long haul of the rest of the hour glass. You can count on it.

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Skunk House Beach

I took a friend for a hike through the woods and a drive Sunday evening. There is nothing like finding such sensory exhilaration and majesty on this dear Isle of ours that is both peace & feast for eyes and soul. I said, " let me cap off the eve by taking you to see that sunset by the beach."  It's a place I go as many evenings as time allows possible.  My friend enjoyed it as much as I did and really, who wouldn't or couldn't help but melt in such tranquility that intoxicates the core of your very being. Here is where sunset sweeps by in Father Time and Mother Nature's lullaby, white sand gathers soft through the hands and feet, soothing waves quiet any beast of anxiety on the psyche, all the cares and stress of the day is carried away with the salt and waves of tide and emotion that finds a reason for passion again. The place is called Skunk House Beach, Cable Head, Prince Edward Island. Its not far from the National Park of Greenwich, where you have to pay a fee to see such things and blessings. Sadly, such blessings have a price that is becoming as expensive as a millionaire’s pocket in Cable Head. I said to my friend, “ okay, let’s go up the road from our view, I want to show you something. “ Forward and onward upon asphalt we left the Skunk House clay road to notice all those cottages that are replacing the formerly free view of paradise. The best Cable Head Beach area views are turning into something similar to the  upper class and rich clan properties by the beach in Malibu, California or Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts. I knew it would happen once they put that monstrosity of a mansion by the sea near the Skunk House. Another mansion was created beside it, whereby the vultures of realtors have their hungered signs and stakes out in the field beside what’s left of the best view. I said to my friend as the drive ended, “it won’t be long until they take away our access to the Skunk House Beach too.” There is only one other public access point to Cable Head beach. That is also being replaced by private property and realty. Reality is showing us like sand through the hour glass that we soon will have nothing left for free. Enjoy it while you can, until you have nothing left but an expense on your hands to see such beauty through a National Park fee and vicinity.

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Old Souls

One has to wonder about the qualities found in an old soul. Rarely joiners, loners...still somehow develop a small following of keeping an eye from a distance, a combination of being as close as the next sentence,yet always at arm's length from everyone with the exception of the few that are just as old as you. An old soul that can find another ancient empath of another soul, no longer feels alone in a world of people who value only what the material can bring into their hands with eyes and egos that want everything a little or alot better than the neighbors. Old souls never follow such roads.....no matter how alone they are, they are never as lonely as the crowd that cannot see the light of day to get out of their own way. Since such crowds run in common escalation of abundance like a superficially ravenous virus, old souls travel alone with the company of a few true blue genuine loved ones, the written word, music, films, nature, god or goddess and the song that goes on in their hearts that knows theirs is and always will be that of a destiny on the road less traveled.  

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Rock & Roll to Ramble & Flow

There has to be a tinge of unhinged sadness in a writer’s soul. Be it in a professional or unsung amateur of words. Whoever or whatever you are ...the melancholy is there & often repaired in the comfort & company of sentences that somehow build bridges of connection to yourself or the reader. Often, it’s a connection you wish you had in everyday life with each other in the form of something other than writer & reader. The writer knows however, that writing from the soul is a lonely life. Sometimes, you even wish such expression was not the direction your life has taken. You will always feel the separation from others. Like a musician on stage, the only way you come together with others is through your creativity & artistry. The bridge of connection is there for any who listen or read in the need for beauty in a world that shows us already apathy aplenty in an ugly sensory overload. Hopefully the song or the paragraph will inspire that musician, writer, listener & reader to move away further from apathy in an ugly & unforgiving world towards the beauty in creativity that bridges the gap towards one another as easily as the flow of musical notes & the water under the bridge that sustains us. May we all rock & roll or ramble & flow regardless.