Skip navigation

Monthly Archives: May 2014

Lady Justice Newark NJ

Somewhere between self awareness, and self preservation, lies an ocean of truth. Not to put too fine a point on a metaphor, but it really can get pretty murky. Jobs, Family, Finances, and more cover a wide variety of issues to fight about and build up a head of anger. I am pretty partial to my version of the truth and know that you are very comfortable with yours.

I was thinking (yes, I truly was) about Lady Justice and her blindfold, carefully balancing the scales in her hand to weigh both sides of the issue. Is she blind to anything but the facts? Or the truth? Or only the truth that someone can back up with facts?

Empathically you can pick up the stream of consciousness around you pretty fast. It isn’t always pretty, or fair, or frankly, even tolerable. But, there it is, the awareness of knowledge in your head and the hum of anxiety in your veins about what you are observing and feeling. The truth is so clear sometimes, but too hard to put into words for others. So, you sit quietly with that Mona Lisa look upon your face while the whole situation plays out like a symphony for one. Every note, crescendo, and cymbal is crashing and you know that the end result is going to be painful. Yet, you have to keep it to yourself. The only truth that matters to some people is their most beneficial version of the truth so it is already crafted in false flattery and convenient lapses in memory. It might be easier to be ignorant to some. Ignorance is supposed to be bliss, right? But then you are just ignorant!

The oath taken in court is to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. I believe in Justice and feel no tolerance for dishonesty and exclusion in all its forms. No one has the might on their side to treat someone else badly; there is no authority given to be a jerk. Power and control may be the face that someone wants you to see, but it is not the real truth, merely a mask.

Real truth does not try to make you uncomfortable or feel badly. It does not disappoint or cower in shame. Real truth is healing, clarifying and a starting point for moving forward. Real truth is also hard to find because there are too many people covering their eyes to its light, hoping to hide a little longer in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks so much for stopping by! It means more than you know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Advertisements

the strongest women cry

To every wonderful woman I know and those I have met here, you face your battles and life head on everyday. You never back away from a challenge or walk away unwilling to try. You grieve, you laugh, you live, you nurture, you care, and you feel more than most people. You are the reason I am so blessed to have readers and followers that I never thought I would have and am so grateful to hear your feedback and appreciate your approval and kindness more than you know. Thank you to all of you!!

You are more than the sum of your parts, you are all the Sum of your Hearts. ❤

———————————————————————————————–
p.s. I see the grammatical error but could not change it. But I heartily endorse the sentiment.

generations by gilad

My mother passed away a year ago, two weeks before Mother’s Day. This year the Mother’s Day ads started early and I had a whole month to mourn the lack of someone to shop for or search for the perfect card. However, the truth is that it has been an acknowledgement and reminiscence of all that has transpired each day since.

Memories float to the surface among my tears like blurry Monet images of life. There is no “new normal” as people told me because nothing feels normal. Someone was offended because I called 30 year olds “kids.” Regardless of the age, if you have a parent, then you are someone’s child. Even when your mother is 70, she still recalls the memories of pregnancy and birth and those moments that made you one of her kids. She still demands and deserves respect for the status in life and the milestones achieved. Her memories dominate and no day goes by that she is not remembered, good or bad, for who she was as part of my life.

We are forever children trapped in the timelessness of memories, traveling through time to the feeling of adolescent 12 year olds; not yet a teen and not still a child, but not old enough to be on our own. We needed the reassurance of a parent who cared about us and knew where we were and cared that we were fed, cared if we had clean clothes to wear and a clean bed to sleep in. We were expected to do our homework and chores around the house. Big ones help the little ones.

Now, we try to protect each other without our North Star. The guidance and celestial being that connected us all is somewhere out “there” but certainly not here. My siblings and I are more cautious, gentler, and more fragile. Some of us are new grandparents and yet, we have no Mother. Those beautiful babies made us the matriarchs of our individual families, but the Mother of us all cannot see the photos nor answer the phone when one is born to share our news. There is no replacement for the original.

There are piles of emails in my inbox reminding me to think of what Mom really wants and to capture the photos of us together. Reservations have been made to celebrate Mother’s Day and show her how much we care with handmade Belgian waffles. There are no cards for me nor have I achieved that status of special planning. Life has gone on and work continues no matter the day. Hallmark goes on without me and maybe when I am older it will seem that I am a mother worth celebrating. For now, children are still growing and busy with their lives. They have not reached the age where they understand what it means to mother for a lifetime.

Yet, I have reached the stage where I cannot understand why mothers cannot last a lifetime. I knew that there was going to be a passing, there had to be a greeting and a farewell. There would be angels guarding and lighting the way and I am supposed to meet that moment with gratitude that she was not alone. But the only constant is that I miss her and she was my mother and she is no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for stopping by! It means more than you know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ghandi speak your mind

%d bloggers like this: