9 Jul, 2008
birth color colors emerald envy gems green greenzo jealousy life lush poetry spring symbol washington writing
Green. Green is lush, rich, rolling meadow morning softness. Green is enviro -friendly, future-oriented, the color of money, the color of life, of springtime, gems – emerald , malachite, jade.
Photo “Please don’t move” by Zespira L. on Flickr
But green is deep, sneaky, possessive, emerald powerful jealousy.
Green is the dark hate I feel for girls who get to wear short skirts without puffy ankles or knees.
Green is someone else getting the call, the moment, the power.
Green is the sickening despair of not being noticed, not being enough, not mattering.
Green is stronger, less forgiving then blue.
It cannot see its dewy deep beauty, which is too bad. Strong as it is, it could be so much stronger, if it could see.
Green. Green has so much.
4 Jul, 2008
calm calves clear climbing colors exercise love meditation mental health peace stairs walking wash writing x365 zen
I tried meditation. A bunch of times. It helped, if for nothing else that for sitting sans computer in the quiet and kindness. But I couldn’t relax, couldn’t focus on meditating, focused on the noise I was making, the meditation I wasn’t doing, racing, racing thoughts.
I went for a one-on-one with the leader of the class, who suggested I try walking meditation. I liked the idea. But I didn’t try it.
A few months later, work launches a stairclimbing challenge. Simultaneously and separately, my sweetie and I decide to start walking on the paths behind his house or the city streets toward the Mall near mine. I am walking, more and more, beyond my walks to and from work.
And it is working. Beyond strong calves I feel calm coming in. Clear. Zen.
It is the most beautiful color of all.
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Note: Happy 4th to all!!! I have also added a few posts to X365.
3 Jul, 2008
dependence feminism friend independence love mental health poetry trust writing
In college, contemplating and confronting so many things at one – love, feminism, liberty, life — I began my wonderings about independence.
I wrote poetry in bluegreen notebooks:
“ Dependent, from Latin,
meaning: to hang from
So tonight I am wondering:
Do I hang from you? “
Hanging from was not a good thing, I concluded then. I would not hang from, not from him or anyone.
So I didn’t. Didn’t say “I love you.” Didn’t love fully. And didn’t hang from.
I thought it would protect me. From hurt, from risk, from giving too much, losing myself, blending into another. But the walls I built were sheer and cool and blew over in the wind. They were poor fortresses.
In came the stabs and embraces and hurts and loves of the people around me, whether I wanted them or not, whether I depended or not.
I am still careful with loving, with depending. I am an independent woman, with a good job, real estate , a life, a world. To me, that’s the easy part.
Being a “dependent woman” of sorts – depending on and being depended on – has been harder to learn. And it’s been 4th-of-July-fireworks explosively fufilling – a kind of love that grows and widens and stuns and satiates. I am still learning to hang from, to trust I won’t blow over or become an unnecessary appendage. Sometimes I do fall. And sometimes, if I let them, someone or someones catches me.
