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I was running errands today, and I had a CD mix playing in the car. The following song, which I happen to love, came on. I think my biggest draw to the song is the lyrics. Rare is the time when I hear them and am not left thinking about them as they apply to me, others, and life in general.
"Holy Water" by Big & Rich
Somewhere there's a stolen halo
I used to watch her wear it well
Everything would shine wherever she would go
But looking at her now you'd never tell
Someone ran away with her innocence
A memory she can't get out of her head
I can only imagine what she's feeling
When she's praying
Kneeling at the edge of her bed
And she says take me away
And take me farther
Surround me now
And hold, hold, hold me like holy water
Holy water
She wants someone to call her angel
Someone to put the light back in her eyes
She's looking through the faces
And unfamiliar places
She needs someone to hear her when she cries
And she says take me away
And take me farther
Surround me now
And hold, hold, hold me like holy water
Holy water
She just needs a little help
To wash away the pain she's felt
She wants to feel the healing hands
Of someone who understands
And she says take me away
And take me farther
Surround me now
And hold, hold, hold me
And she says take me away
And take me farther
Surround me now
And hold, hold, hold me like holy water
Holy water
Granted, we all have our own takes on music and what particular songs mean. That is one of the many beauties of it. We know how it affects us. Much like a painting, each person sees (in this instance, hears) for himself.
So, I thought about the overall gist of this song. Innocence. Lost innocence. I am a little too old to always be able to look at life through the eyes of a child. I am not oblivious to the suffering and incomprehensible tragedies that take place day in and day out all around the world. I do not want to stick my head in the sand and ignore the woes of the world. What I can do, however, is find the good and decency and kindness that most assuredly does exist. I can then spend moments of time in innocence. Those precious seconds that once again give me the purity of a child who only sees the wonders surrounding him.
Ah, innocence. I do believe we have it, lose it, regain it, lose it, and so on time after time. We cannot help but experience pain at the hands of someone else, an event, or an illness. Such is life. And frequently, our innocence is stripped from us because of it. Oftentimes in the blink of an eye, it is taken. We feel we will never be the same again. We feel jaded. Cold. At least on the exterior. Inside, we are dying bit by bit until that time when we are once again reunited with our stolen innocence. And most of us finally make it through relatively unscathed and hopefully a bit wiser. Until the next time it happens. And the cycle continues.
I want to always remain as a child in certain ways. I hope I am resilient enough to make that hope become a reality.
"Innocence dwells with wisdom, but never with ignorance." ~William Blake
Gah! The fall continues to affect me in sometimes unpredictable ways. Not all of which are necessarily good.
On the positive side, during the past few weeks, I have won THREE contests (good things happen in threes...not only bad things). First, Debbie at My Big Fat Greek Life held a writing contest to win a Greek bracelet or ring. I won a bracelet for a poem I wrote. Yay! The bracelet arrived today, and it is beautiful. I love it, Debbie. THANK YOU! Second, Jodi at Looking Beyond The Cracked Window had a contest to see who the first person was to guess the five lies she inserted into an autobiographical post in her blog. I won! And I won a painting of hers. My choice of paintings, too. Yahoo! I chose one that reminds me of her amazing creative mind. I cannot wait until it arrives! THANK YOU, Jodi! And third, I won a $300 Best Buy gift card at my hubby's annual company dinner. WOOT! He gave it to me to use. Yes, the number three has been kind to me many times during my life.
Downside? I was working on a painting I felt had great potential. I eagerly sat at my drafting table working the watercolors just the way I envisioned them when I sketched the scene. Unfortunately and frustratingly, the painting is now hideous. I am at a loss to determine whether or not I can salvage the mess I created. I was so upset that I carried it into my dining room and left it there. I do not want to look at it for days. Needless to say, we will be dining in the kitchen until I can decide if I should throw away that ugliness my hand and brushes made.
Upside? I bought five pairs of jeans yesterday. Yes, five. Blacks, indigos, and grays. They are skinny leg jeans, and I wanted to replace my old ones anyway. Men's dress shirts do look very nice and are comfy to wear with that style of jeans for casual running around or just wearing in the house. Throw in the new boots I also purchased, and I am one happy camper. Curious to see how the hubby reacts. He shakes his head when he takes a gander at my boot collection, as well as all of the jeans I own. ::shrug::
Downside? Dot is late. She makes me very weepy when she does not appear on time. Either that or I go into fits of laughter that are uncontrollable. I also tend to retreat into myself more often. Dot, where are you? (Dot is my period. Get it? Dot. Period.)
Upside? I have discovered the most fabulous band from Finland. Stratovarius. Oh my! I am obsessed listening to them. The singer's voice is intense, and his range is unbelievable. Perfect lyrics accompany the songs. I am in sheer heaven listening to them.
Downside? I have developed a new addiction. Glass beads. I spent a good couple of hours choosing the ones I wanted. I am already thinking about all the ways I can use them. As if I have time for yet another artsy project. It will cause me to put even more pressure on myself to accomplish something worth keeping or giving to others.
Upside? I am going to get some blue topaz earrings. I am. Not the ones I saw at Macy's when I was recently there, but ones at my usual jeweler's. I have decided if my mood is going to bounce up and down like a yo-yo, I might as well have pretty earrings on my earlobes so at least I sparkle while I bounce. ::grin::
Is it winter yet?
"Life is a train of moods like a string of beads; and as we pass through them they prove to be many colored lenses, which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its own focus." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
She is my mother, my friend, my voice of reason, my shoulder and ear when I am in need, and my source of inspiration to help me find the inner calm that she possesses.
There are many times I think I could not possibly be her child. She is the most gentle, kind, and soft-spoken woman I think I have ever known. Her voice is soothing, quite lovely. Should she ever be tempted to raise it in anger, it is still but a slight notch above her normal tone. She has the most impeccable manners. Proper etiquette was a mainstay of her upbringing, and I would suspect she wonders how it was lost on me. ::smile::
She refers to me as her "ornery" daughter. Example. During her last hospital stay, I arrived to take her home. I was helping her get dressed after the nurse had removed the round, adhesive patches with the metal tips in the center that heart monitors connect to. While the nurse was preparing to remove Mom's IV, I noticed there was one of those patches still stuck on her chest. I asked the nurse if I could remove it, and she said I could...that she had not realized she had missed one. I said, "It's okay, I'll just take it off. That way I won't be tempted to start calling her Triple Nipple." Mom immediately told the laughing nurse that I was ornery. Uh huh. I am. And Mom knows she loves it. I like to make Mom laugh. She has the most precious giggle. If I time my stealth move just perfectly, I can reach under her chin and tickle her. Ohhhh, how I love the nonstop high-pitched giggle that causes. And when I am walking behind her, I love to pinch her bottom. She used to leap when I did it and tell me to stop it. Now, she is used to it and keeps on walking.
She is 5' 2", and I am 5' 8", and I love to wear heels. So, when we are together, she almost fits under my arm. I hug her lots and call her my little pocket parent.
She is a very, very strong woman. She has dealt with some horrendously tragic events during her life, but she has that ability to accept things as they are. The pain of those things never completely goes away, but she has made peace with them.
My mother. I think I will keep her. In my pocket. ::grin::
(The SELF-PORTRAIT CHALLENGE theme for September is ‘with someone‘ month - that means you must include someone else in your self portrait. Someone meaningful to your life or to the moment or to a specific event that you wish to document. Guidelines: 1. each week in the month use a different person in your self portait. 2. either talk about that person or illustrate in the photograph why you have included them and how they are meaningful.)
During the past few weeks, I have looked at cottages for sale in the woods and hills about an hour's drive from our house. I imagine myself spending weekends surrounded by quiet and beauty. The hubby has not ruled out the possibility of purchasing a weekend place, but he did say he would do it more as an investment. ::sigh:: That means he would rent it to others. And that would dictate when I could stay there. I do not want restrictions placed on my comings and goings.
I have also talked to him about moving to a new home. Perhaps buying a piece of property and building a sprawling ranch house. We no longer feel we have to stay in this community for their excellent school system. Yet, I saw a stone house in my neighborhood that is for sale, and I adore it. "Can we buy it?" I asked. That was countered with a response of, "But I thought you said you wanted to build a house?" My eyes roll, and I told him that was last week that I wanted to do that. "Well, what about the old historical homes you say you want?" Geez, he just cannot keep up with my weekly whims. Unfortunately, neither can I. And there is always that brick Georgian townhouse minutes from here that I lust after. It would strictly be a "for me" place, though. I do not count it as a family home. It would be my oasis. Just how many homes DO you want he usually asks. How do I know? It depends on the day. I really do not want to move. My home is perfect for us. And the idea of packing up all we own is enough to throw me into hysteria.
I went to Macy's yesterday to buy a new chain for a pendant I have. It was the only reason I went there. Before I knew what was happening, my arm had a suede jacket draped over it, along with a matching top, and I had made my way to the jewelry counter. Yes, must get a gold chain. This is why I am here. Uh huh. So explain why my face was poised over the blue topaz earrings that were gazing up at me through the glass and winking at me, seducing me with their Swiss blue color and rampant sparkles. And do tell me who uttered the following words aloud to the salesgirl, "I want those earrings right there"? Mmmm. Oh yeah, the gold chain. I set the clothing to the side while I perused their offerings. I found the perfect length and link style I wanted for my pendant. I asked if I could also purchase the clothing there at the jewelry counter. No, must buy them in that particular section of the store. Not a problem. And as she began to box the earrings and chain for me, I had a brief moment of clarity. What in the hell was I doing? I only wanted a chain, and here I had turned into a shopping slut. Ewww. I quickly told the gal not to bother with the earrings; that I would not be buying them. Just the chain, please. She was pleasant about my sudden change of mind. I meandered back to the clothing department and hung the jacket and top back on the rack. I needed neither one.
I left the store only to spot a nifty convertible sports car. I want that car. Never mind that I have no idea what kind it is or that I already have a convertible with ridiculously low mileage on it. I shook my head to clear it. I love my car. Why do I want a different one?
Finally, I returned home. The hubby called and asked me how my day was going and if I had any plans. We chatted for a bit while I told him that I was going to try to finish going through the mountain of paperwork that needs filed. As of this moment, the papers are still piled on the coffee table, because I spent a ridiculous amount of time matting and framing four paintings instead of doing what I said I would be doing.
Yes, fall is making its appearance. Not only in the drop in temperature and the earlier sunset, but also in the way it messes with me. It is a beautiful time of the year, yet it gives me a restlessness, a need for change, and an inability to focus my attention on those things that require it.
Eh, I will grow accustomed to it. Just not sure which house I will be living in when that happens. ::grin::
"To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, but life without meaning is the torture of restlessness and vague desire-it is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid." ~Edgar Lee Masters
This self-portrait of me with "someone" is incredibly difficult for me. It is the last photograph that was taken of me with him before his death. He passed away 12 days later. My father. The very first man who ever loved me. Unconditionally and profoundly.
The celebration was Christmas Day, 2001. He was in a nursing home, and I had made arrangements for a special type of bed/chair to bring him to their lovely dining room that had been so festively decorated. On Christmas Eve, I laid out the clothing for the aides to dress him in the following day. Navy blue pants. White turtleneck. White sweater with navy blue woven around the v-neck.
Come Christmas Day, Daddy was brought into that beautiful dining room. A fire was burning in the fireplace, snow was falling and could be seen through the windows of the French doors. All four of us daughters, our husbands and children, and Mom were gathered there. We knew it would be his final Christmas; hospice had said his death was mere days away. Our hope was for him to be a part of the holiday he so very much loved. He had been Father Christmas to all of us for countless years.
We brought in a sea of gifts. We wore smiles when we really felt like wearing tears. He was greeted with hugs and kisses and more hugs and kisses. The lone words he spoke the entire time were, "Is it, honey?" when my sister pointed to the windows and said it was snowing. We had to open the gifts for him. We had to do all the talking. We wanted it to feel like Christmases of the past. To bring a bit of the holiday magic to him. And then, when the last of the packages had been unwrapped, fatigue overtook him, and the aides returned him to his room to rest his failing body.
The film in my camera (I had no digital camera back then) was developed soon afterward, but I refused to look at the pictures until earlier this year when one of my sisters begged me to scan them and email them to her. Grief riddled my body as I looked at each one. A much-loved man so close to death. It was impossibly painful to see impending death hovering over his features. There was one photo of my mother kissing him on the lips, and I dissolved into wracking sobs upon seeing it.
Daddy was, is, and always will be my hero. No man will ever be able to affect me with the same magnitude that he did. His brilliance was not only in his intelligence, integrity, and kindness, but also in his ability to make all those around him better people. He was simply the best of the best. And I continue to love and miss him with each passing day, season, and event.
And so, I submit this final portrait of Daddy and me. It has been altered with a filter to not only protect his privacy...but also to preserve his dignity. He deserves that.
(The SELF-PORTRAIT CHALLENGE theme for September is ‘with someone‘ month - that means you must include someone else in your self portrait. Someone meaningful to your life or to the moment or to a specific event that you wish to document.
Guidelines: 1. each week in the month use a different person in your self portait. 2. either talk about that person or illustrate in the photograph why you have included them and how they are meaningful.)
