Ha! A year ago today I started this Blog. Has it really been that long?! This year has been such a year of transformation, and it just keeps extending in that way for me.
I haven’t posted anything for quite sometime, which is incredible considering my overactive mind and imagination. Alas, I have been scattered in many directions, precisely as we all are, and I am just on this journey we call ‘life’.
The last year has deepened my love of Art, and the connection somehow brings me closer to my Higher Spiritual Self in so many ways it would be impossible to express in such a short post as this. (and I promise it is short) In any case, my deep desire for a closer experience with the Powerful Universal Presence, that some call God, has brought me to some life-changing decisions which I know will bring me great joy and of which I have already found.
Paradoxically, life is the same. I eat, drink, work, dress, play–whatever, and so do all those around me. Caught in an endless circle of rituals and repetitions. Sometimes whirled out of balance by a shocking experience that breaks that routine.
I’m not much for routine, which I find boring…however, I do embrace some form of lose structure that allows me some flexibility and direction at the same time. I have to say perhaps I’m somewhat better at it now at this stage of my Crone life. I have to smile at that expression of myself, but here I am. There. Here. So I smile at myself and realize that in the last year I’m just learning more about how to simply ‘be’, and the rest is unknown…
I see the Light in you my friend, and I thank you for sharing this journey with me.
Here we go!!!!…Down The Rabbit Hole…
“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?”
Art prints available at http://www.artpal.com/angelaspath and http://www.fineartamerica.com/profile/angela-oneal
Sometimes something stirs within my mind and sets words in there that I don’t even know myself until they find their place on the page. They seem foreign to me, yet whisper of a past, a truth, a knowing that comes from somewhere else. Somewhere that is not the me I look at in the mirror every day. Not the artist, (no) not the wife, caretaker, or friend. Somewhere in another time– another mind. Whispers into my ear these words, like warm cookies that melt in my mouth and leave a taste both sweet and bitter. My hands deftly hit the keys or stroke the paper with pen to lay down verse, or words, or strings of words that fall on the page like raindrops from my eyelashes. Strange and wonderful. Sometimes mixing with the tears I taste their saltiness. The words beg me to write them. They call me with urgency to lay them down. How can I deny it? When would I say– no? Then, when I push it aside and silence the calling and plunder about my day, the words become lost and lonely again—falling in to the back drop of my memory. Slowly losing and fading quietly from their once reverberating demands. Now they have retreated. With me. They go behind, and (may) wait till they have yet another chance to hope to be written. I then think and ponder–(later…) What was that I just heard?
There was a longing deep within that is no more. For movement, such as a long lost symphony, has been revealed at last, and allows now to dwell in the discovery of its perfect notes, and no longer desires a longing. For such is now forgotten, and knows only the sweet music.
Having denied Self and set aside Truth–a fruitless effort–to exist in a world that directs paths according to ‘it’s’ tenants– Wake (!) from weary wasteful sleep where time seems to dwell–Long days, and hours, and years, resting in such separated solitude as to elude the denial of pursuits of freedom–remembrances of sanity. Now. Awake. Truth of being gives voice, and sings it’s forgotten songs– deep and joyous (Love)–None could see (less) except such visage; and, in fact, leave no favored or ill mark on it at all.
“I dwell in my own illusions and I love my creations”
Cat Napping Too Long On A Stained Glass Roof by Angela M. O’Neal
I’ve been leading a double life…
Dear Friends and Public,
For a very–very—long time now I have been seeing someone else other than my husband. This person has stood by me all of my life. Caring and sharing every nuance of my existance. I am totally in love. I am also totally in love with my husband, and I can not imagine my life without him. He is my heart and soul.
I am now in a very precarious situation since last Sunday this special somebody proposed to me. Knowing I am married and have many obligations, and my time is limited and torn already, this love of my life is demanding, in no uncertain terms, more from me than I have ever been willing to give in the past. What is the right thing to do? Legally, I know I can’t marry when I am already married. So, if I were to accept this beautiful proposal I would have to find a way to make it work. A way to take care of everyone else and this other.
Although I have had many sleepless nights since Sunday trying to make the best decision, and against all normal standards of relationship, I decided to accept the offer. So this is my announcement to the world that I am now officially engaged to be married to Myself.
Formal announcement to follow.
NOT SO ROSY by Angela M. O’Neal
first draft unedited…
There are certain places in our world that can’t take RAW. Like people who can’t tolerate RAW veggies. They can’t take the crunch or the blast of true flavor that so often gets boiled out and watered down by grocery store canned goods. There are places that don’t and won’t accept the cut open, bleeding truth to be allowed in their hallowed sanctuary. The spaces of seeming tranquility and pure love…peace, if you will. But truly, these places house and harbor the very RAW. In fact, the cut throat, bleeding to death RAWNESS in the sense of pain, grief, and suffering that so often precludes their desire to unite in the safety of the sanctuary. Are these havens for only the devout, quiet, repetitious, gentle hands of the peace makers? If so, who is there to lead? Who is there to see revelation, be inspired, and transformed? Is it helpful to deny our suffering and claim wholeness? I say, no. Sweetly…gently…lovingly…no. For how can the heavy heart truly believe you can lift it by your words only? By words of others only? No. For only grief can know grief. Only pain can know pain…and so on, and on. So, I say, at least for myself (as I can only speak thus)…give me RAW. Give me TRUTH. Else I hide in shadows of forever.