Consequences Will Follow The Chaos You Created

When the storm finally dies down, you look back at the chaos left and wonder if you will ever be able to make sense of it.  In the midst of the insanity your questions and concerns were constantly ignored.  You were not worth the breath required to respond.  The lack of human compassion and an unwillingness to see past the ignorance that blinds them, has left you searching for the strength needed to pick up the pieces crushed in their obliviousness.

You have tried to stop their idiocy for a year, shocked that their philistine way of thinking is unbreakable.  You have acquired the knowledge and skills needed to force the answers you seek from them.  The complaint you must file forces them to make a choice.  Answer for their actions legally, or keep their heads in the sand with the false sense of security that you are vacuous, with the brain function of a slug.  Consequences will always follow the choice.

 

When Your Cyber-Bullies Are Family

As our entire world becomes immersed in social media, the increase in stories of teenagers who take their life over cyber bullying is alarming.  As a teenager it was difficult enough to deal with my three to four very close friends and the 100 or so acquaintances I would say hi to in the hallways.  With Facebook, I see kids with 900 friends checking to see who “commented” or “liked” the twenty-minute old post about their choice of breakfast cereal, and it could make or break their day.

It is so much easier to bully someone when you are looking at a screen with only your own words.  There is no face to face interaction, no back and forth dialog.  You do not see or hear the cue from the other person that tells your brain, “Hey, your being an ass, knock it off”.  School ground fights used to end with an adult stepping in telling everyone to break it up, the crowd dispersing and those involved dealing with the consequences almost immediately.  Now they have assemblies and pass out pamphlets about the damage cyber bullying can cause.  These are usually after some poor kid is tormented online, puts a gun in his mouth, and pulls the trigger.

My family not only allowed but encourage one person to make up whatever he wanted about me, my husband, and our 12-year-old son, and use the internet to spread it around.  So many things were copied, forwarded, and made up and sent or told to everyone they could find, I have no idea who thinks what and why.  The fact they flipped my life upside down with no thought, is telling on how easy it was to do from a computer.  Not sure it would have been that simple, if they had to look at my son’s face while it was happening.

After almost a year, I know longer care what they say.  Their efforts telling me I need to move on, I ignore.  That being said, it is horrible to go through.  I cannot imagine dealing with something even close to that as a teenager.  But, I can understand how they get to the breaking point.  Hopefully, society will figure out a way to keep human interaction from completely being lost in cyberspace before we forget what it is like.

I have sent my own e-mails, posted on Facebook, and created Spun, to deal with my mess as it was happening. And although I enjoy seeing them, I need more than a “like” or a “comment” to process what has happened.  I require the old, face to face, school ground fight. Except a judge, not a teacher will be the one to break it up, allowing for everyone to deal with their own actions.  Just like back in the old days.

 

Mom, I Am All Adventured Out..

Growing up I was blessed with being able to travel with my maternal grandparents several times a year.  Ranging anywhere from Disneyland and Sea World to camping and boating.  I was with my grandparents at  Lake Powell the day it was considered officially full in June of 1980. Lake Powell is my favorite place in the world and the resting place of my grandparents.

Except for the times my grandfather flew us in his Cessna, vacations were usually started with a Bronco pulling a trailer or a boat name The Beverly Anne II.  The drive was usually long enough for something to leak, break, fail, catch fire, or blow out along way.  Adding  adventure long before we were screaming at the darkness in Space Mountain

It was my grandmother who gave me the term “adventure” during those times that I still use to this day.  Living in a 30 year old pink single wide trailer with only a swamp cooler to get through the Vegas summer heat, was quiet an adventure.  My grandmother took one look at the trailer and told me to just pretend I was on a camping adventure.  There was even a big pine tree growing by the back door, reminding me of many Colorado camping trips.  After spending two summers “camping” and being pregnant with my second child we thought it better to end that trip and bought a house.

When the market went to shit in Las Vegas and we made the mistake of re-financing beyond our means we lost our home we had for eleven years.  So we started a new adventure in Arizona.  While most of my family lives there I was not really close to them.  I had spent 17 years in Vegas, I did not know them and they certainly did not know me.  They thought they did after reading all our private letters and journals, something I think they are proud of.  I do not think they would like me to do that to them. Actually, the thought to do that would not cross my mind.

A week before Christmas they kicked us out with our twelve year old son.  They have lied, stolen, and have turned into people I do not know.  I had an awesome childhood which makes what they did even more hard to deal with.  Something changed when my maternal grandparents passed away.  I know in my heart there is not a chance this would be happening if my grandfather were alive.

My grandfather’s favorite holiday was Christmas, and I think he sat in Heaven watching what was being done to his great grandchild, and if you can get pissed in the afterlife, I am certain he was.  My son was in a hotel room with his mom and dad who were on the verge of breakdown, while my parents got drunk with my daughter on a little holiday vacation at a bar in Laughlin.  Something is very wrong with that.

Two weeks after we were kicked out and we had been living in hotels, I told my son to think of this as an adventure.  I even said we could just live in hotels for a year while I wrote about our adventures.  Nothing is as easy as it sounds and hotels got expensive.  A twelve year old needs to be in school, not sitting in a McDonald’s on my laptop while his father and I figured out a way to get 60 dollars for a night at hotel in the ghetto.

A few weeks ago I was talking to my son about our adventures and he said something I will never forget.  He said “Mom, I am all adventured out.”  It broke my heart to hear him say that because I knew this adventure was not the kind my grandmother was talking about.  However, this adventure taught him to have compassion for others I have never seen, especially in a twelve-year-old.  Everyone we have come across has told me what a helpful and kind kid he is.  Teachers are telling me he is intelligent and articulate.  That being said, our adventure has done damage to his trust in people and given him a fear and an uncertainty a child should not have to deal with.

I know there are families and children who have horrible lives compared to ours.  I thank God every day for what we do have and I know it will only get better.  We will have the adventures my grandmother talked about, and our son will learn to trust again.

 

Our Valley Verde Sundays

I remember Sunday afternoons running through the trees. The sound of fall leaves being crushed under my tennis shoes as I reached the big flat rock I knew so well.  It was part of the mountain, but so barren and grand it looked out of place.   I felt the sting of the brisk air as I ran up the side, slowing only to drop to my hands and knees as the slant of the rock reached towards the heavens.  With the grand rock behind me, and my goal reached, I stood on the edge looking down. Not knowing how blessed I was to see the beauty of that untouched valley below me.  The sun setting and my stomach growling, I turned back to look towards the house. Closing my eyes I could see the chili simmering as the game of trivial pursuit was being put away. I raced the sun running back down the mountain,  Again, slowing on the huge rock as I looked like a crab climbing down. Reaching the house, I opened the mud-room door, the smell coming from the kitchen making my mouth water as I kicked off my shoes.  The chili warm and spicy, mellowed by the honey dripping corn bread filled my rumbling stomach.. As I half listened to the stories being told, I let the voices turn into a calming white noise.. I was content, I was safe. Years have passed. The calm voices are long gone and the beauty has been touched by greed. But, I will always be blessed to have known, and now be able to, cherish the memories of our Valley Verde Sundays.

Change is a Decision

Start by making a step in the direction of change…Keep putting one foot in front of the other…It wont be long before you look back and realize it would be a change to go back…

Simple Tom

Change is a Decision

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Rest In Peace, My Beautiful Friend…

When you hear about the loss of someone’s beloved animal, you call or send a card.  Being at what can only be called a war with that person, and  anyone associated with him, makes sending a card a non-option.  As does an order of protection.  While your war will continue, you make a choice that for today,  you will remember his friend.  The one he sat with late at night sharing his thoughts.  The one that gave him comfort when no one else understood.  The one who was unconditional love.

My Friend

For today… you will give your anger and pain to God…

For today… you will say a prayer for peace and comfort in your enemies loss…

For today… you will remember his friend…

May you be running free, across sunny fields of green…

With the warmth of heaven taking away your pain…

Know that you were loved, and will be missed by many…

Until we met again…rest in peace, my beautiful friend…

Follow Your Coyote

Their path you are to follow looks clear…It looks easy…It is like walking on air…For miles you can see the open space in front…Nothing clouds the view…you can see everything ahead long before you have to adjust your step..You turn to look over your shoulder…You can see a reflection of the path in front of you…Everything is the same… You start to wonder if this is all there is on this well-worn road…

The Monarch touches your hand for a split second, pulling your eyes to follow..He dances around the bright blooming flower that grows on the side…The humming bird drinks her nectar…You wonder…Can no one else see that beauty…Why do you stay on this path…

Spun360

Spun360

You continue on, every step becoming like last….The Coyote plays hide in go seek, watching as you walk…The flicker of his ears allowing the sun to reflect the morning dew as it flies through crisp air…His dark eyes searching your soul, wondering if you have the fearless craving to seek out more than you understand…

A small break appears in the cactus and trees that surround you…Sitting on a rock…the Coyote stares…waiting with his knowledge for you to follow…You stumble and you fall…You cry out as the cactus are sharp and rocks do not bend…

You stand proud with bloody knees and scraped elbows pulling the quills out…Next to you are those who laughed when you followed the Coyote to your own path…You will heal…Your mind is quick…Your heart softens into kindness…Your eyes able to see beauty they cannot….

And you will follow…What is Yours…

Leaving them to continue on What is Theirs…Only following their own refection…

English: Coyote at Ridgefield National Wildlif...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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