Friday, January 30, 2015
The id Post: Time to Say Good-bye: My Cycle of Sorrow Nears It...
The id Post: Time to Say Good-bye: My Cycle of Sorrow Nears It...: On Tuesday, April 30, 2013, I will celebrate the first anniversary of my mother’s passing from this world into the next. I have allowed ...
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
The id Post: The Boy I knew
The id Post: The Boy I knew: by Irene Daniel Beautiful sweet boy, My oldest friend, When will you Come around again? The fantasy castle In which you dwell, Sust...
The Boy I knew
by Irene Daniel
Beautiful sweet boy,
My oldest friend,
When will you
Come around again?
The fantasy castle
In which you dwell,
Sustained by memories
Of hell,
Keeps you safe
And remote,
Your hearth surrounded
By a mote;
And guarded by
A hairy troll;
Ugly, dark
And insufferably droll.
My bridge of love
Is much too weak
To enable
The boy I seek
To come and play
With me once more.
I wish I could
Break down your door.
And so, I'll seek
Another way
To reach you
And to say
How very much
I miss you
Today.
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
Beautiful sweet boy,
My oldest friend,
When will you
Come around again?
The fantasy castle
In which you dwell,
Sustained by memories
Of hell,
Keeps you safe
And remote,
Your hearth surrounded
By a mote;
And guarded by
A hairy troll;
Ugly, dark
And insufferably droll.
My bridge of love
Is much too weak
To enable
The boy I seek
To come and play
With me once more.
I wish I could
Break down your door.
And so, I'll seek
Another way
To reach you
And to say
How very much
I miss you
Today.
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
The id Post: One Year Ago Today
The id Post: One Year Ago Today: by Irene Daniel One year ago today I was invisible Even to myself Just fumbling in the dark A tempest started brewing And in summer ...
One Year Ago Today
by Irene Daniel
One year ago today
I was invisible
Even to myself
Just fumbling in the dark
A tempest started brewing
And in summer
Ignited a spark
That set ablaze
A life untrue
And blew apart
All that I knew
One year ago today
I didn't know
What I didn't know
About how low
A man could go
And still pretend
That he deserved
A better end
One year ago today
How could I not see
That I simply was not free?
Or that the world
Can never be
The one I wish it
To be?
One year ago today,
It seems so long ago
And far away
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
One year ago today
I was invisible
Even to myself
Just fumbling in the dark
A tempest started brewing
And in summer
Ignited a spark
That set ablaze
A life untrue
And blew apart
All that I knew
One year ago today
I didn't know
What I didn't know
About how low
A man could go
And still pretend
That he deserved
A better end
One year ago today
How could I not see
That I simply was not free?
Or that the world
Can never be
The one I wish it
To be?
One year ago today,
It seems so long ago
And far away
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
The id Post: The Healing Power of Vulnerability
The id Post: The Healing Power of Vulnerability: by Irene Daniel I was holding my little gray Kitten, Milagro (which means Miracle, in Spanish), as he purred and played with my fingers. A...
The Healing Power of Vulnerability
by Irene Daniel
I was holding my little gray Kitten, Milagro (which means Miracle, in Spanish), as he purred and played with my fingers. And I marveled at how completely vulnerable he is in my arms. He just melts like butter when loved and stroked. I wish I could do that.
I took a long drive the other day back to LA. I sure don't miss the traffic in the City of Angels. There is much that I don't miss there, not the least of which is my future ex-husband. On the way back home -- to Florence, AZ -- I thought about my impending divorce and realized that I had been postponing dealing with this emotional and financial morass; and realized that it was time to look at it and figure it all out. I used to do this for a living. Why can't I do this for me?
I don't want to think about him. Ever. Or us. Or 401(k)'s and lawyers and insurance. No fun. No fun at all. But thinking and writing and figuring out must be done. And crying and grieving, that must be done too. In fact, that has to come first; before moving on to the next indicated thing.
It's tempting to skip this part, this grieving; and to stay in the anger that we choose to believe empowers us, but in reality only robs us of the naked joy of our true humanity. At least that has been my experience. For it is difficult to feel entirely free and joyful when I am tied up in knots and seething. I've stayed too mad for too long and now I know that the only way past it is through the heart of it.
And that brings me to my hurt feelings and darkest fears. I don't like it here, don't want to be here. I would rather stay enraged and disconnected. I'm pretty good at it too; having spend half-a-century running away from pain and fear. And it almost killed me.
So here I am with this little gray kitten in my arms who was himself rescued from death by my neighbor and life-long friend, Olga Cathemer. She has known me for 50 years and loved me all through those 5 decades of running away from myself. She's rescued me so many times and now, once again, by rescuing this little kitten to give to me to take care of -- my Milagro, my newest teacher. My miracle.
You see, the first time I saw Milagro, he was a tiny little thing; all pelt and bone covered in gray fuzz, with his left eye swollen shut. He was barely alive. That's how I felt when I first got back to Florence. My left eye was no longer swollen from being punched by my future ex, but my arm was still in a sling from injuries to left shoulder, and the pain was killing me. I was broken, lost and afraid, just like Milagro. Now he is a chubby, fluffy, happy little kitty with 2 good eyes. We are both healing, although my resistence to facing my pain is holding me back from healing, at this point.
So, it's time to decide; and not to decide is to decide. I can stay in my anger, or I can cry. And feel. And hurt. And grieve. And then, and only then, I can let it all go. I used to think that merely acknowledging that I have feelings, and that I am in a painful place, would be enough to release me from the seductive grasp of anger. Now I know better. I have to actually feel. I can't just examine my feelings from a nice, safe distance. I have to invite them in and commune with them awhile. Then, as the caterpillar becomes the butterfly, the Divine Spirit that resides in us all, will turn that darkness to light.
Then I can be like Milagro -- true to my natural Spirit. And then I will be made whole. And then I can live again; or maybe, for the very first time.
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
I was holding my little gray Kitten, Milagro (which means Miracle, in Spanish), as he purred and played with my fingers. And I marveled at how completely vulnerable he is in my arms. He just melts like butter when loved and stroked. I wish I could do that.
I took a long drive the other day back to LA. I sure don't miss the traffic in the City of Angels. There is much that I don't miss there, not the least of which is my future ex-husband. On the way back home -- to Florence, AZ -- I thought about my impending divorce and realized that I had been postponing dealing with this emotional and financial morass; and realized that it was time to look at it and figure it all out. I used to do this for a living. Why can't I do this for me?
I don't want to think about him. Ever. Or us. Or 401(k)'s and lawyers and insurance. No fun. No fun at all. But thinking and writing and figuring out must be done. And crying and grieving, that must be done too. In fact, that has to come first; before moving on to the next indicated thing.
It's tempting to skip this part, this grieving; and to stay in the anger that we choose to believe empowers us, but in reality only robs us of the naked joy of our true humanity. At least that has been my experience. For it is difficult to feel entirely free and joyful when I am tied up in knots and seething. I've stayed too mad for too long and now I know that the only way past it is through the heart of it.
And that brings me to my hurt feelings and darkest fears. I don't like it here, don't want to be here. I would rather stay enraged and disconnected. I'm pretty good at it too; having spend half-a-century running away from pain and fear. And it almost killed me.
So here I am with this little gray kitten in my arms who was himself rescued from death by my neighbor and life-long friend, Olga Cathemer. She has known me for 50 years and loved me all through those 5 decades of running away from myself. She's rescued me so many times and now, once again, by rescuing this little kitten to give to me to take care of -- my Milagro, my newest teacher. My miracle.
You see, the first time I saw Milagro, he was a tiny little thing; all pelt and bone covered in gray fuzz, with his left eye swollen shut. He was barely alive. That's how I felt when I first got back to Florence. My left eye was no longer swollen from being punched by my future ex, but my arm was still in a sling from injuries to left shoulder, and the pain was killing me. I was broken, lost and afraid, just like Milagro. Now he is a chubby, fluffy, happy little kitty with 2 good eyes. We are both healing, although my resistence to facing my pain is holding me back from healing, at this point.
So, it's time to decide; and not to decide is to decide. I can stay in my anger, or I can cry. And feel. And hurt. And grieve. And then, and only then, I can let it all go. I used to think that merely acknowledging that I have feelings, and that I am in a painful place, would be enough to release me from the seductive grasp of anger. Now I know better. I have to actually feel. I can't just examine my feelings from a nice, safe distance. I have to invite them in and commune with them awhile. Then, as the caterpillar becomes the butterfly, the Divine Spirit that resides in us all, will turn that darkness to light.
Then I can be like Milagro -- true to my natural Spirit. And then I will be made whole. And then I can live again; or maybe, for the very first time.
Copyright 2015, Irene Daniel, All rights reserved.
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