Shriner's Hospital feet

I wrote this book for KSS to teach her about her cerebral palsy. She was four years old and ready to learn about her diagnosis. (If you click on the images they will enlarge.) Its still in its rough draft stage as there was never an official print run of it. I read it to her once. She looked up at me and asked "Do I have Zebra palsy?"
I knodded my head and the doors were open to teach her.

I have included it here so you can see the braces or AFOs  (AFO = ankle-foot orthotic) so you know what I am talking about.

My second visit to Shiners Children's hospital was to make plaster casts of KSS feet so they could make AFO's for her.

Commonly called "braces".

Plastic torture devices that hurt like a SOB if you get kicked with them while trying to shoe a fighting child who doesn't want to go to the store with you.

Oh did I mentioned they are hinged plastic torture devises that will leave you screeching in high-E when you get pinched in there folding parts.

And KSS was not to fond of them either.

Her first pair didn't fit correctly and we had no idea they didn't fit her. We put them on her faithfully everyday like we were supposed to. Only to discover months later that they were not conforming to her feet correctly and they were undoubtedly causing her pain 24/7.

Well durr....that would explain why she hated them so much.

Made us grown up feel like crud too. Yeah, thanks Doc, I just spent the last few months hurting my child and adding to her pain and even further hindering her attempts to learn to walk. Nice job of making me feel like a  monster.

Once we got AFO's that fit things got better. 

but I digress...I want to share with you what happened that first fitting.

While we waited for KSS turn to have her legs casted in paster to make molds, she got wiggly.

So she and I wandered off. Her crawling slowly about the hallway looking for stuff to get into. The hallways were silent and empty. She tired door after door to find them locked.

I grabbed a quick drink of water and as I glanced up found myself alone in the hallway.

RUN AWAY BABY!

As I started checking doors I laughed at myself...geeze how stupid do you have to be to loose a small child who crawls at a very slow pace?

At last a door gave way and I peeked in to find KSS smiling up at me. "Sajah?" she grinned.

I scooped her up and froze.

The sight before searing itself onto my soul.

Stopping my heart.

there were rows and rows of pairs of plaster feet hanging from wires that stretched across the room. This was the room the AFOs were made in.

The main set of lights were off and so the little dangling feet were ghostly lite in a somber light.

Like a bunch of dancing angels. Beautiful chubby feet, ankles and toes.

My heart resumed beating, as the tears welled up. There feet didn't belong to dancing children. I could see the twists and bends in them. 

These feet belong to children who might never walk, run or dance .

I looked at KSS. then back to the feet.

There were worried parents behind each pair of feet. Parents who cried many tears over those precious feet.

Row upon rows. 

I ran hand down KSS's crooked leg and cupped her foot.

I thought of the workers in here taking each pair of feet down and handcrafting the AFOs to fit them. 

I left the room and took her back to the waiting room. The enormity of the world I was now in, crystal clear in my head...and too much for my heart to handle.

I have visited that room many times in my dreams.

I always slip in quietly, stand among the dangling feet and catch my tears in my hands, then lovingly wet each tiny foot and re-sculpt it. My heart wishing endlessly to be able to heal those feet. To free those children, to give them feet that fly and jump.

Silent born

alone
toes over the edge
Arching back
I allow my inflated lungs to pull my chest upwards and then I leap
and plummet into life
....her tiny face, silent born
her voice echoing in my tears.
....his hands on my waist holding me
"woman" he whispers
my soul perks up and my body responds...yes
depression like an anchor pulls my body down
down
...down
to drown in the murky darkness
to wake to daylight and the dew on my face
to die with each breath, too painful to drawn in another,
close the coffin lid...
hearing the dirt falling down
hand reaching up and grabbing rung after rung
returning from mother earths womb
warm wind tousling my hair and embracing me
found my way and lost my way.
I watched the stick man die.
burned at the stake, one flame at a time
return me to the deep,
I feel the coil wind and tugged snug.
flung, catapulted to the sky, I go flailing
chest expands and I grab a lung full of life
silent born
eagle wings open and holding back the sky
flies so close her shadow touches me
she pulls me and my spirit takes flight
my tears pull me to the earth once again
slick river of blood
yellow boots
stamping out codes in the puddles
as I hopscotch down the driveway.
inhaled her last breath as she dies on my chest
and another one leaves me behind
take me with you...
take me with you....
inhaling in the night and saddened I can't translate the darkness
some cosmic code that calls to me and dances like a forgotten language on my tongue
translation lost, the echo to faint to hear again...
alone
toes over the edge
Arching back

(C) Nov 2010

Don't bother asking for a translation. This is one of those poems that I "found" scrawled in my notebooks. I Know only snatches of the images. The stick man was my friend HRP that I played Chess with. The eagle soaring over head, that happened while floating the Rogue River. The coolness of her shadow awoke me. There have been many who have died on my chest...

Somewhere within my soul is a restless writer who scribbles cryptic poems and story idea on to notes and then tucks them away till I find them. Sometimes they inspire me to write on. Sometimes they leave me wondering if perhaps I awoke from a dream and simply jotted it down.

This have been an incredibly exhausting few weeks and tomorrow is my one day off. Then I start the end of the month grind at work. I promise to write something new. I have so much I would like to write about. Just lacking the time to do so.

I just realized I do know another of the images. This one:
....his hands on my waist holding me 
"woman" he whispers
my soul perks up and my body responds...yes

It was a full moon August night and me and my friend John were out to look at the comet that was just HUGE. I was bare foot in the tall green grass and just giddy with the excitement of a full moon, a comet and the warm summer breeze. John tapped me on the shoulder and said "look."

I looked behind me and got my socks knocked off....the start of an eclipse. Freaking awesome double whammy of heavenly wonders!! Comet/eclipse of a full moon.

At the peek of the eclipse the comet just GLOWED!! it was a sight I will never forget. I threw up my arms  tossed back my head and howled. Then dropped my arms and felt my spirit lift as I left the grass. I was leaving this planet and going with the comet.


then I felt

....his hands on my waist holding me
"woman" he whispers
my soul perks up and my body responds...yes

"Do i need to chain you up to keep you here?"

I laugh and toss my long dark hair wildly. I felt my body again lift up as if infused with helium. My eyes returned to the sky.

Again, I felt his hands grab my waist and this time with a firm jerk he pulled me back.

heh.

good thing he was there to anchor me to the planet. Writers are very prone to being sucked up by passing celestial objects.

Christmas cheese, well it beats coal in your stocking

Working all week covering a co-worker. No time to write. So I am going to cheese you with this email from 2010.

This is one of my writings that takes me by surprise each time I read it. Just how deep the subject matter is, and how beautiful it turned out despite being written from a place of dark depression.

Enjoy. I am looking forward to next week. A lot to blog about.

**********************************************************************************
2010 Christmas

I have struggled to get in the Christmas spirit this year. The usual winter depression gnawing away at the fringes of my sanity is not helping.

I have nothing to give anyone. I feel like the little drummer boy. Even though I "buy" you all gifts all year long.

Thought this year I would actually tell you what my heart gives you all.

Every time I drive back to Medford I go on a heck of a shopping spree.

The commute from Medford is long and boring and on the way to GP I write in my head. I spin fabulous tales that no one will ever read. I sing loudly and badly to the fuzzy oldies station that fades in and out on my radio.

I stress over stuff I need to do, didn't do, should do and did do.

I spend the commute in the dark playground of my mind.

After work I head for home.

From the on-ramp to Rogue River I usually spend crying and screaming. De-stressing from the job that places me daily in the mist of the elderly and the ever looming impending shadow of death. Most days the amplified pain of my collection of orthopedic injuries reaches 10 on the pain scale and the screaming and crying helps....no not really, but I feels good to give the universe an ear full.

Then I hit Rogue River.

And the Powerball and Megabucks bill board greets me with it ever cheery tally of BAZILLIONS of dollars that are sitting in the pot waiting to be won.

45 million this particular night.

and the tears stop.

and the shopping starts.

Oh the usual frivolous thoughts light up my mind instantly.

With that money I would quit my job.

wait, my boss and co-workers know where I live....and I am an old woman with a bad back, I might be able to take one of them, but collectively they will kick my arse. Nix that idea.

Buy Corey a car that he fits in and won't bump his head.

buy me a new truck....(laugh till my side hurts as imagine the look on the salesman face as he tries to figure out the trade in value of my filthy truck with its custom paint job.)
In short order I have bought you all cars.

45 million.

lets see.
houses next.
Call my sister and tell her to house hunt...vs suprising her with a deed?

buy co-worker a house and leave the key and deed on her desk.

Send my parents to the coast for the day and paint the house blue again...leave a nice slick custom motorcycle with a comfortable seat and a matching side car in the drive way.

Sneak in and pay all the bills I can find for all of you.

Send oldest Brother to Africa. I promised him when he was young we would go. He has to go alone though. With all the hardware in my pelvis I would never get through the scanners.

Go spend time with Brother closest to my age and his family. Tell his kids all the crazy things we used to do...and show them the pictures! (aint seen nothing till you have seen him in Tiny Grandmas mumu's and her stole in his underwear with the mink heads poking out his fly.)

Buy Brother next younger from above brother and his family a huge house in Gold Hill so he doesn't have to do this commute any more.

and the list goes on and on.

I think of each and everyone of you, and how you impact my life.

and how I never tell you

how I wish I could win that money and anonymously give each and everyone of you what ever you want or need.

How after the initial greed reaction I reach deeper inside and I want to lavish those in my life with magical suprises.

A cat for my children, and a house to go with it.

Its not about paying you for being who you are, its about honoring you and reaching inside and communicating with you from my soul. Something I lack the ability to do verbally.

By the time I Sylvia's ranch I am bawling again. Marveling at how RICH I am, not with money, but simply by knowing you. All of you.

Wish I could spend that 45 billion to buy time. More time. Then I could make you all some fabulous gift that would let you know how much I treasure you.

Then I drive by furniture row and I start buying furniture to go in all the houses I bought on the drive.

By the time I hit the off ramp I am spent...physically and mentally....and monetarily. I sneak in and check on the kids and then slid into Corey's warm sleeping arms.

He slumbers unaware of the money that came and went in the night.

********************************
My gift to you all tonight.

A memory.

Of a Christmas that didn't go quite as I had planned. That was a  year I lived at the farm. The year that Grandma's daughter bought her a pony. Tink was a dazzling mahogany bay with a long flowing black mane and tail.

The grand kids couldn't wait to ride her so before we ate dinner and opened presents, we went out to the yard. She was acting spooky so I insisted on getting on her first. She reared up so I tossed my weight forward to bring her down. Next think I know I'm on the ground with a pony in my lap. She had flipped backwards and taken me along for the ride. She popped up and I rolled to my side, keenly aware that from mid back down I was numb.

15,000 dollars later I was bolted back together with an impressive set of 4 3" screws and a Frankenstein plate in my pelvis.

The ER staff was all bummed that I had to spend Christmas in the hospital.

The next day around 8:00pm I looked up to see John and Suzy come into my room. What a pair they were. John I had worked with for 9 years at (insert name of some random nursing home). He and I share the same twisted sense of humor and inability to speak to our fellow man unless we are doing so in writing.

Suzy (name changed for privacy) was a resident who was 1/2 Native American and 1/2 mailman. She delighted in doing dumb Indian impression that would have won her all sorts of Oscars. She had long ago adopted me into her tribe.

They slid up to my bed and wiggled and twist like hyper puppy dogs.

"whhhaaat" I smiled, so pleased to see them. Soooo pleased.

Suzy handed me a Christmas present. "we brought you a present." And their faces split into Cheshire cat grins.

My brow wrinkled as I looked at the dusty present. Wondering two things. Why was it dusty?...and how did these two make it past security?

As I opened the wrapping paper they leaned over my rail and peered down to see the action. They looked like two kids on peaking into Santa's bag.

It was empty.

I glanced up at them and they burst into hysterical laughter. When they had caught their breath John explained they had stolen it from under the hospital's decorative tree in the ER on there way up to see me.

I can tell you this...belly laughing after having a horse fall on you and then having pelvic surgery is painful, but so worth it when you do it with friends.

So my favorite Christmas present of all time - an empty box filled with mischief and nincompoopery.

My favorite gift that I get all year round is you.

All the people in my life who see me, work with me, talk with me, eat Chinese food with me, share this planet with me. You are my gifts. It never ceases to amaze me that you would give up your precious time to spend some of it with me.

and someday when I win that bazzillion dollars you will be soooooo glad I am in your life.

************************************
and no Christmas is complete without a stocking

I made this one just for you

In it I put laughter, for those days you need some

band-aids, for those days you are hurting.

tucked in 1/2 a rainbow so you don't forget to chase the magic this planet has to offer,

a handful of fall leaves, a gust of snow,

arms to hold you,

a broken chain,

two hairs from a stallions mane,

a bucket of rain.

a soft hankie to dry your tears,

dew drops gathered on cat whiskers,

warm apples off the tree

a shooting star so you will always have wishes,

puppy kisses.

bright green spring grass,

a warm breeze,

healthy feet to chase your dreams,

moon beams.

Strength to break your bonds,

and too hold on.

The perfect wave

an Indian brave

a handful of skipping stones,

a smooth pond for you to free them on.

a horse only you can ride,

a place to hide.

a smile, kisses

and lots of wishes

a candy cane,

a country lane,

and may you wake to no pain.

I'm so glad you checked your e-mail today,

so that I may

(((((((((((((((((((((you)))))))))))))))))))))))

and tell you how much I enjoy your company.

Merry Christmas

Love P

The four sisters

I tuck you carefully in and kiss your forehead. Stop squirming little one and I shall tell you a bedtime story.

Once upon a time there was a group of four sisters.

Oh they were the wildest girls you ever saw. Like a herd of delicate Arabian mares.

Everything about them was musical and magical.

Their laughter was like the sound of falling snow, light delicate and hushed.

 Life flowed from there hands as they linked arms and spun in circles. You could see the joy radiating from there eyes.

No one knew there names, or ever called them...

Everyone liked to watch them. Young girls wanted to be like them. To taste their freedom.

The sisters would ride there horses at a full gallop down the crooked path to the ocean.

There they would write messages in the sand and wait for the ocean to wash them away. Occasionally they would have to start over as one of the horses would prance over there messages.

No one knew there names, or ever called them...

Their days were care free and unblemished. They never new pain or hurt.

One night, when the stars were late to rise, the girls woke and rode bareback down the crooked path, the horses dancing in the distilled moonlight.

There on the beach was a girl with long dark hair. Around her bare feet were angry words scratched deep into the sand. The ocean tried but could not wash them away. The cool dark water filled the holes, but could not stay and ran out in dark trickles.

The sisters shivered and reined the horses around. Wanting to flee the beach. They had their happiness and their peace. There was no room in their hearts for this darkness.

"Joy, Hope, Trust, Love!!" The girl with windswept hair called.

The sisters twisted on there horses and their mouths opened in surprise for no one knew there names, or ever called them...

"I don't know you." said one of the sisters

"But I know you" said the girl as the wine dark sea swirled around her ankles. "you haunt me in my dreams, and I call for you and you never come." Her face reddens with anger " WHY DO YOU VISIT OTHERS AND SPEND TIME WITH THEM AND NEVER ME?"

The sisters dismount and walk through the cool sand. "well" said Trust, "I'm not with you...for someone has taken me from you. That man with the flesh knife. Someone else must give me back to you."

"NEVER" snorts the Girl drawing up a wall of sand. " to protect myself I will not allow people to get close to me."

With a voice so soft it sounded like the sound of butterfly wings, Joy spoke. "I cannot be held."

The dark haired girl roared, "but I must have you! I want to know what it feels like to have
joy."

"Do you even know what joy feels like?" she whispered.

Darkness clouds the girls eyes, and her legs give way and bring her to the sand. Her shoulders slump and draw her closer to the earth. "No, but I just know if I had Joy I could put her in my heart and ease the ache that is there."

"That is where my sister belongs." Joy responds, pointing to Love.

The girl erupts from the sand. "NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE ME! TO BE LOVED IS TO RISK BEING HURT! I HAVE BEEN HURT ENOUGH. NO ONE WILL LOVE ME!"

The sisters wait.

The realization is slow and painful, like a process of disarming a bomb. One of the heavy chains of the darkness drops off...slowly it dawns on the dark haired girl.

"No one will love me...I don't even allow myself to love me." She wails painfully into the night.

Love and Joy and Trust speak as one. "start your journey there my friend." They remount there horses.

"WAIT!!" called the girl, "I am stuck."

"Then stop hiding and come after us" they said reining their mounts around and starting back up the crooked path.

"WAIT!!" called the girl, "I am alone."

"No you are not." They responded pointing to the riderless horse next to them. "Hope will stay with you."

"She is always with you." Said Love. ""Always."


Dissipating like fog the sisters dematerialized into the night.


"How will I find you again?" She said quietly.


"It is easy..." said Hope in her singsong voice, "you follow the beats of your heart."


The girl smiled and her heart sang.


Carefully I close the book and for a moment watch you sleep. One last kiss to your forehead and then I slip out into the night to ride with the sisters.

(C) Jan 12, 2005 P R

The oval mirror

* * * * Triggery for childhood sexual abuse, read with caution * * * *

The oval mirror

Once upon a time there was a beautiful oval mirror.

It hung in a little girls room, just upstairs and to the left.

The little girl loved to stare into it's flawless surface and see her reflection.

She would stick out her tounge and make funny faces and the mirror would laugh and make a face back.

They were very good friends. The mirror watching all that happened in the room.

One peaceful evening, as the mirror reflected moonlight onto her sleeping face,

there was a noise on the stairs.

An awful frightening noise.

It woke the girl.

"Mirror the monster with the flesh knife is coming!" she cried and hid under the blankets.

The mirror swung into action and began to sway to and fro.

As the monster got to the door and turned the knob, the mirror threw itself across the door.

There was a horrible sound as the monster swung open the door and knocked the mirror down.
The monster stepped in and with no regard for the mirror stepped right on its face and shattered it.

The girl felt her soul shatter as she faced the monster alone.

She was left to the dark as the mirror no longer reflected the moonlight.

The mirror layed for a very long time on the floor, years and years.

No one cleaned up the broken glass or even noticed it at all. No one.

That was until one summer day when the little girl, now older, ran into the room and fummed
around fighting anger and hate and feeling as if she was going to explode.

She threw herself to the floor and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"TELL ME WHY!" She angerly demanded. "WHY??"

She focused on the mirror and noticed for the first time, it reflected many different images...
many different faces, some whole, some fragemented, some not there at all.

As her vision slid from face to face, she got cut on the sharp edges. The pain was comforting and calming.

"I see there are many of me now."

and she didn't look in the mirror again.

And the mirror once again laid for a very long time on the floor...years and years.
For the most part the mirror just closed its eyes and tuned out the world.

It was only vaguely aware of being slid into a box and transported to a new place and shoved under the bed down the hall to the right.
The girl, now grown, never looked at it.

until

The monster reappeared.

The child, now a woman, saw a blinking light on the message machine and touching it was
unsuspectingly ambushed by the monster.


The woman, now a child, was very afraid. Even the monsters disembodied voice was too powerful to fight.

She hurried down the hall to the right and yanked the box from under the box from under the bed.

She tore open the dusty box and spoke to the mirror for the first time in forever.

"How...how did you have the strength to try and stop him from coming in my door all those years ago?"

"I knew it would take all of me to block the door, not just the hook or the frame or my glass." sobbed the mirror.

"You did it as one" the woman said quietly. "How can I do that? I am many now.

But the monster speaks and I am five years old. One five year old is not able to face the monster."

"No, no five year old should be sent to face the monster. Why doesn't someone inside you that is older pick her up and put her on their shoulder? " said the mirror, "like this"

The mirror pulled a smaller sliver of itself closer to a bigger piece. "see, now the monster will see a bigger you."

The girl, suddenly taller, looked carefully at the mirror and saw she was indeed bigger.

"and say if we pull these two pieces here and here for support then we can build a human pyramid and hold her even higher."

"Oh yes and if they were flanked by this piece and that piece then the base is strong and wide and stable."

The girl drew up her shoulders as she felt her power flowing back into her. She kept carefully reassembling the mirror until it was whole again.

Though the image was not perfect and had many scars, it none the less reflected her image as one again.

She stared for a long time at this stranger she had not seen for so long.

"Hello you" she at last spoke to her reflection.

"hello you" the reflection answered.

They smiled a quiet smirky smile at each other. The woman felt the mirrors frame fuse to her, giving her a solid sturdy support structure.

The mirror spoke again. "Dont send a five year old to fight the monster alone."

"Who shall I send?" she asked.

"You send the army you see before you."

The woman stood up and came to attention. Presenting a brisk salute she pivoted and went to the phone.
With a single movement she hit DELETE.

The monsters voice was gone.

She picked up the phone and dialed no longer afraid, her army knew how to silence the monsters voice.
And they could choose to do so at anytime.

...and the oval mirror?

well it hangs in a beautiful womans room.

Where you can see it everyday.

thend.

(c) 6-3-2005 PR

Stone Statues

"Your horse sign blog reminded me of the stone statues."

Doh! No wonder it was ya 'alls minds, LOL that was just so weird to suddenly have a 1/2 zillion request for it!

I realized late last night..errr early this morning on the commute that it is possible to do a re-write on it and remove the sensitive info. Which I will do and post it.

"Because P,  love your blog but know you are sharing only a part of what you are capable of writing.  Share with the world what all of you writes,  not just the nice polite part that wears underwear."

ROTFLMAO, damn the minions are on to me...

There you have it. so be it.

 * * * * warning: graffic self inflicted violence - trigger * * * *

Stone statues


I was raised void of religion. There was no super being who called the shots in my life. No set governing rules and regulations of any religious dogma to cloud my head. Even so I found a spiritual place within  myself. Like a cosmic joke between me and the universe. It was it and I was I. If the universe wanted me be, then I had to be.

So many time in my life I barked at the universe and demanded "signs".  I wanted, no needed, trail signs along my lives journey to know that there was purpose in my being.

Trail signs. I grew up learning them from Grandfather. How to track in the woods and read the trail signs. Grass tied in a knot and bent pointing to the left indicated the hunting party took a left turn here.  Three stones piled in a stack, much like a stone snowman, indicated danger ahead on the tail. etc etc etc...

I as a child looked for those sighs as I grew up. Found none and assumed the universe had abandoned me here alone.

When I was in therapy, suddenly the signs I had looked for started appearing.

I was very suicidal in my twenties. I had no fear of death, I had no need to come to terms with death, what I need to do at that time in my life was to come to grips with living.

There were many nights alone in my trailer I would call out to myself. "Game of solitaire for your life? winner takes all." All I had to do was win and I got to call the shots. Mercifully by the time the game was over I usually had come to my senses and had calmed.

That game escalated into, Radio Roulette. The rules were simple. Turn on the radio and if it was a song I didn't like and/or commercial I could kill myself or injure myself,  what ever the stakes were that night. If it was I song I liked then I had to go to bed unharmed.

EVERY time. EVERY TIME the stakes were fatal, (ie I had the means and motivation to do it) I hit that switch and was greeted with a Beatles song. It was as if the universe wanted to FIRMLY let me know: NO. It reached out for me with the only thing on the planet that I would listen to.

I didn't think the signs could get any clearer then that.

I was wrong.

I left hypnotherapy very pissed and angry and upset. I was not listening to them. They wanted me to be friends with my body and my mind. To stop warring with in and unite to face the common enemy of the pain in the past.

"Be united my ass, its me against this ugly body AND the universe, I will not befriend this waste of flesh that I reside in." I grumbled as I got in the car and slammed the door. I glared at myself in the rear view mirror. "FUCK YOU!!!" I screamed at me and revved the engine and set it in gear.

Froze. unable to remember how to drive.

Oh that ticked me off down to my socks.

I exploded in a rage. Punched my face. Not the pain/release I needed I scooted over ripping open the  glove box looking for something to injure myself with further.

The place in my head our session had tapped into was frightening and dangerously close to the core of why I was driven into therapy in the first place. All of me was rebelling and screaming and frightened.

Not finding to suitable tool, I screamed again biting my arm.

Not able to break the skin, my mind fumed and I tried to twist off chunks with my hands.

I needed blood.

I need the sweet, warm comforting redness of the blood.

I remember exiting the car to get the tire iron to crack open my head and then was no more.

I swam through the black haze of my mind to surface once again to discover my self entering the redwoods. Usually as the car enters the rich dark shadows I feel my whole being relax as I return to my own personal Eden  This time it felt tight and uncomfortable and not at all friendly.

I was driving at break neck speeds through the twisty turning road. I turned down Walker Road and disappeared into the redwoods. Walker Road isn't really a road, it more of an impression of a trail that might get you through the core of the redwoods belly. I know it well and know it dead ends at a huge beach of rocks, that hold the Smith River from getting to close to the Redwoods.

I drove my car into a sand bank and abandoned it. I  took flight and made a b-line across the stones to the waters edge. My ankles slid over the many rocks as I made the foot ball field length run. My anger and rage only barely tempered.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? THROW YOURSELF IN?" I screamed to myself.

maybe, I fumed in my head. I stood on the banks and stared hard at the cold dark green water racing past at breakneck speeds. The Smith River is crystal clear. Cold, DEEP, fast and as inviting as a morgue.

I turned to the stone beach and began picking up rocks and heaving them into the water. One after another in a parade of deep cacophonous moist KER....plunks. These were no little skipping stones. There were two handed hernia inducing stones.

The combo of rock therapy shut down my head and the strenuous exercise combined with the safety of the redwoods and the voice of the rushing water eased the need to injure myself.

Until I realized, I could just not let go of the next rock. My death would be swift, silent and cold.

My muscles nearing exhaustion knocked me over and pressed me to the beach.

Spitting sand I came up swinging. "I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS! MY MIND A JUMBLED RUBICS CUBE OF HELL!! I WANT TO REMEMBER EVERYTHING THAT CAUSED THIS UNREST IN ME....I WANT TO HAVE ACCESS TO THOSE PLACES WHERE THE NIGHTMARES SPAWN"

WE CAN WORK TOGETHER, UNITED LIKE THE THERAPIST SAY WE MUST, HEALING IS POSSIBLE! bellowed my gut.

The obsertity of this thought knocked me off balance and made me snort a 1/2 laugh, my mind clawed at the safety words they had planted in my subconscious.

Healing hell...I can't even convince myself to stay alive. I stood up and shakily walked the shore line looking for the next rock. Carefully selecting it for its size and ability to pull me under.

It took a moment to get it loose and cradled in my arms. Taking a deep breath I yanked it up and stood up.

The air left me in a silent exhale.

The rook dropped from my hands and it clattered heavily as it nestled back in with its breathern at my feet.

The scene before seared me to the quick.

It was not unlike turning around and discovering a huge zombie army standing behind you.

There all up and down the rocky beach were stone statues. Piles of rocks stacked up into towers.  some as high as 6 stones.  The majority of them three stones high.  Trail signs....Three stones piled in a stack, much like a stone snowman, indicated danger ahead on the tail. 

Hundreds of them HUNDREDS of them all over the beach.

How I missed them on my flight to the waters edge is beyond me. I could not see a clear path back to my car.

All of a sudden, I felt very small. veeeeerry small. A nothingness adrift in a hostile cosmos.

I felt something in me give.

as I imploded.

each of the fragments of my shattered soul, frightened drew closer to the core of what makes me, me.

My eyes scanned the tree line looking for people, big foot, aliens, something...anything.

I was alone. naked. exposed.... vulnerable. The panic was rising within.

The air left me with a hiss. "holy shit."

I wrapped my arms around myself trying to summon up the courage to go through the rock army back to the car.

I dug my heels into the adrenaline horse and took flight through the rocks, I slammed into the side of my car and bounced off and gave the ominous beach another quick glance as I dove into the car and sped off in a dusty cloud.

I drove in silence to the ocean. My mind didn't thaw from the strange terror within until I got to the oceans edge and let it swallow my feet.

That was a sign, my gut whispered.

I took in a ragged nervous breath. "no that was not a sign. That was someone who had hours to kill and enjoyed the solitude of the rock beach to mediate and make prayer towers."

riiiiiiight, smerked my gut. What kind of sign do you need? One that says "HEY YOU, ITS ME THE UNIVERSE, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER

I laughed in spite of myself. "yeah, in BIG letters."

The internal chatter fell silent as I walked the sandy beach looking for a stretch of pebbles to hunt for agates in.

Finding one I sprawled on my belly and began sweeping the tiny rocks. I peered in carefully looking for agates. A quarter sized piece of smooth frosted white beach glass poked up as I extracted a black agate. I picked it up and was about to flick it from my path when i caught sight of the words on it.

B UNITED

My gut said what I couldn't,  HOLY SHIT!!

my soul still churned up from the rock "sign" gave way like a dam breaking and I exploded into sobs.

The guardians or  who ever has always watched over me sure pulled out all the stops that day to reach for me.

I sat up a sobbing blubbery mess. "OK! now that's a SIGN!" I hollered to the sea. "THAT IS A HELL OF A SIGN!!!!!!!!!!"

I stood up and walked to the hard packed sand near the waters edge. There I kneeled in the damp sand and used the beach glass to draw a circle around me.

I stood back up and addressed the cosmos. "I am here. I are strong and I am gunna fight to stay alive. Who's with me?"

There for the first time in forever, I heard myself speak in one voice, one thought, one cry...

"ME!!!!!!!"

"WHO THE ENEMY?"

"NOT ME!"

not me

There, on the beach, that day the battle shifted. The war was now focused outward.


Thend

omg you guys...stop that! what the heck!

I am suddenly getting numerous request for the stone statues story. Yes, I know how powerful it is. (I lived it remember?)

Let me do some deep soul searching on this one. That is a part of me that I have kept off the blog on purpose. I am not sure I want to go there...here. (you do realize that most people do not know what that story reveals, don't you?)

Part of me wonders why this time of the year would prompt the need in you to revisit that particular post.

The other part wonders why you remember it? (and so many of you...did it touch that many people?)

I just re-read it several times trying to see what it would give you. I don't see it. I ALSO do not see how I can edit it to not be so revealing.

First though, you must tell me why receiving a copy of it via email isn't good enough. Why do you want to see  it here.