Earth Mother Now

where is Earth Mother now?
the embrace that once held me when I cried
the one who knew just what to do
and fixed all my problems with a sigh

she once held my hand
and guided me down the road
a touch of wisdom, a bit of sass
as she helped me with my load

this world can be a heavy burden
one far too large to bear
but i always knew that there'd be one 
always standing there

where is my Earth Mother now?
it's been years since she's been seen
perhaps she's sold her Nike's 
to get just a bit more green

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Day two of Mother Earth Week brings us another poem, this time not my grandmother's words but my own. A bit darker. A bit sadder. A bit more lost. But that is Life, isn't it? 

This poem is, I suppose, a sequel to the one my grandmother wrote. Many of my Gramma Aw's poems have a quirky loneliness to them. But that doesn't make me feel surprised or sad because sometimes I feel that way too. Quirky and lonely. I think dreamers, artists, poets, and wanderers are all quirky and lonely so we use our words and imagination to help bring others into our loneliness. We live in another world and we want to share it, even if some might find it slightly skewed.

a.r.w.

Cocoon

“Rebecca!” I could hear a voice call out my name from beyond the darkness of my mind. “Rebecca!” There was panic and desperation in his voice.

The cold touch of his hands on my arms helped to bring me back from the darkness and my eyes snapped open to find Death standing beside my bed, his hands on my shoulders, and his eyes wide as he stared down at me in the mixture of concern and pure terror.

It was the sight of Death standing beside me—the fact that it had been him to reach in and pull me out of that nightmare—that made a sense of relief wash over my like a baptism.

I clung to him as if he was the only thing that could save me from drowning in the tidal wave of my fears. Burying my face in his chest, I just held onto him, sobbing with no way of stopping myself, controlling my tears, or trying to pretend to be brave.

I don't know how much time passed as I continued to shake and sob into his chest. I must have dozed off in exhaustion because when I came to, he was lying on the bed beside me, his arms wrapped around me like a cocoon to shield me from the terrors of the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

This was the moment I was waiting for in my story. Breaking through that ally-enemy barrier ever so slightly... the angst makes me a happy Amanda.

 

Happy halfway mark through NaNoWriMo! Remember: you should be at 25K by the end of today!! AND today was mine and Adam's last day off work. We managed to pack up our apartment, explore the city of Novosibirsk one last time, AND I wrote over 3,000 words.

 

Three days and we'll be on our way back to the land of the free and the home of the brave... Huzzah!!

 

a.r.w.

Haze

The world was quiet. It had never bothered me, the silence of these dreams until this very moment as I wandered through the darkness and the mist, not even my footsteps made a sound. As I continued to wander, my nervous creeping footsteps grew into a panicked run and my breathing was silenced by the mysterious mist.

If the haze made me feel nervous and claustrophobic, the silence of this dark, life ess place made me feel trapped. I stumbled, searching for a way out, an exit of some kind—a way to escape from the dream.

As I turned around, suddenly feeling disoriented and unsure of which way I had come from, something bright crossed in front of my face, making me scream… though no sound came from me. In the brightness of the light, I saw Lee’s face, staring directly into my eyes.

I stood there for a moment, frozen in fear. Up until this moment in my dreams, I had watched him scour the haze, searching for me but he was never able to find me… until now.

Without a sound or any sign of what he was thinking, he leapt forward, his hands reaching out to grab a hold of me—he finally found me.

I screamed once more and this time it erupted from my throat.

I leapt up from the bed, my heart pounding and my scream still echoing through the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dun! Dun! Dun!

 

It looks like the doorway between the Betwixt and the realm of the angels has opened just a bit more. Lee, Becks' guardian angel, has finally spotted her. I suppose it's only  matter of time before he finally gets a hold of her...

 

a.r.w.

Girl

i hope i can be

the human i imagined

when i was a girl

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I always wonder what seven year old Amanda would think of the 25 year old Amanda. I like to think she'd be pretty impressed and proud of herself. I hope that you can find the wonder of your inner child and make them proud.

 

a.r.w.

Counting

i count down the days

until i hold you, hear you

until i see you

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There are so many in my heart that I miss and yearn to see again. Some are near and others are much too far to see again in this life. But one thing's for sure: I'll be home soon and that thought makes me smile.

 

All is well.

 

a.r.w.

Daisies

i seek optimism

like daisies in sibir’a

growing through the snow

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There are daisies that grow here in Siberia. Despite the constant promise of snow, the threat of the cold, and fear of darkness, they continue to grow here... I hope to find such optimism one day.

 

a.r.w.

Greater

we are all longing

(though many dare not admit)

for something greater

&



*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

For those of you who feel restless--go! Follow your bliss! Do what makes your heart sing and your hands shake! Be just like Belle--don't just long for adventure in the great wide somewhere... go and get it.

 

So many times we think that happiness can be measured in a bank account or a ring on your finger or the car we get into each day. The mundane... while you can be content, is it really what you long for? Try new foods, see new places, learn how to tap dance, and speak French.

 

Be the person your six year old self imagined you would be. Make them proud.

 

a.r.w.

Pulling

My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

~Anaïs Nin

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I absolutely love Anais Nin. I think that she has some of the absolute greatest and most beautiful thoughts, ideas, and quotes of all time. She talks of writing, love, life, and the fear of the mundane. If you haven't read anything of hers or heard of her, you need to just go to Goodreads and read her quotes--they will inspire you!

 

One of my hopes with this blog was to recapture that whimsical nature I once had. I've always been a dreamer with my head in the clouds, reaching for the stars, ready to follow my nose. Lately, I've been a bit more timid, afraid of very real world things, and that fanciful world that I always lived in is painted black and frightens me. Slowly but surely, I feel myself painting my world back to the colorful place I've always known it to be.

 

The minute I read this quote, I saw this painting in my head. I wasn't sure if I had the talent to do this painting... The stars and sky I hate but I am actually really proud of the girl's face (yes, shock shock! It's a face of a girl again). I might try to redo the background someday when I get better at this. But overall, I'm really proud of myself and how this painting turned out... I hope it did Anais proud.

 

I'm trying to find the nerve in me to follow where the stars want to take me and with each step I feel like I'm returning to a piece of my old self again. Only time will tell...

 

a.r.w.

Come In

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

I grew up reading the poems of Shel Silverstein. I have vivid memories of sitting in my school's library in the third grade, reading his books of poetry. This poem called, "Invitation" is in the book Where the Sidewalk Ends and it is my favorite of all of Shel Silverstein's poems (yes, even "The Unicorn").

 

I remember the first time I read this poem, I wanted it hanging in my house someday. It has a whimsical side to it but also a very candid side. Dreamers are welcome, magic bean buyers are welcome... but pray-ers and liars are also welcome. Even as a child, I loved that idea. Everyone is welcome to come in, share, and spend time together... Just as long as they bring a story to share.

 

The more I think about it, the more I think that Shel Silverstein is my favorite poet. I do love Walt Whitman and Sylvia Plath, and W.B. Yeats but there is something special about Shel Silverstein. It could be that he was such a big part of my childhood--so many teachers and librarians shared his poems and drawings with me. It could also be that slightly tilted, whimsical, silly style he has; poetry doesn't have to be refined or wordy to touch you in a special way. I hope that someday my scribbles and doodles can touch other people's hearts and minds just as much as Shel's work touched mine.

 

I hope to practice my watercolors more in the future. I love drawing girl's faces but I want to try little doodles on the more minimalist side like this pineapple. If you have any requests, let me know! I think a pumpkin, an acorn, and a cat are up next on my list of little watercolor doodles. In my head, I'm calling it Scrap Paper Art because I am incapable of finding blank pieces of paper so I'm practicing on the small pieces of paper I can find (mostly with my student's classwork on the back).

 

This little doodle is also a welcome to you. Welcome to this blog. If you are a reader, come in. If you are an artist, come in. If you are a friend, family, or stranger, come in. All are welcome to join the Accord of Dreamers.

 

a.r.w.