Losing My Blog Virginity

Hi Readers,

It’s a…coffee sipping, internally romantic, I-love-myself moment and have woken to the sweet sounds of my sister-love, Lady Day. We inhale our ordinary surroundings and the quietness, the stillness of this particular moment seems to serve as a reassurance that every wrong decision served it’s humble purpose and every right decision did just the same.

This morning….this type of morning comes only once a month or year or lifetime. It is the universe’s gift of self assurance, independence, and strength…but my mind is so clear and quiet that I am reminded of how easily this gift can slip away from me, through my lips, in the form of a debilitating, yet insignificant insecurity.

So I cradle my oversized coffee cup and smile as it scalds my fingertip. I kiss that same finger and use it to cover my lips. I let Billie Holiday do the talking and hope that this moment lasts long enough for me to remember it.

Here’s to my first post on the Singlestream and to everyone having a happy morning.

xo
Bushlette

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My man in Iraq…

It was at a gathering of friends from my church.  We met to plan the next YAG season at a restaurant a few steps down the road from my house.  Nice night, two-for-one pizzas, outdoor smell of mosquito repellant and summer, and four women around a table.

After the planning and decision-making we ate and relaxed and the topic came up.  Very flip, in response to something decisive (perhaps aggressive, I don’t remember) that had somehow slipped out of my mouth, the seniormost of us turns to me and says “Girl, the man for you God hasn’t finished making yet.  He’s gonna have to be stroooong.”

“Oh yes Bushy… he must be going through some hardship right now where God is toughening him up for you,” was the chime of another.

“Girl, you need to pray for him.  He’s somewhere difficult right now where God is preparing him.  Dodging bullets in Iraq or something.”

At the time I sputtered out a surprised laugh.  But… REALLY?!

The thought has stuck with me over the course of the past few days and I really don’t know what to think or feel about it.  Is it true?  Am I ok with that?  Am I hard work?  Does it mean something is wrong with me?  Or right with me?  What kind of strength is it he would need?  What do I demand?  Is it unreasonable?  Is it a demand?  Or is it just my presence?

And if it is true, where is he now?  What does he need?  Is he really dodging bullets in Iraq?  Or fighting tigers on the Indian Sub-continent?  Or drilling wells in hostile territory in Africa?  Is he hungry?  Is he hurt?  Is he sick?

And I stop myself.  What the hell am I doing dwelling on something said so casually and meant to be light-hearted and funny?

Something is different.  Could it be that I’ve become this sensitive?

COMPLETION

It is popular to pay lip service to New Beginnings.  New jobs, new homes, big moves and big changes have their own hype and energy around them.  They each offer a new and unique opportunity to step away from what has been and create what will become.  New Years Days have always been met with hope and joy and promise for me.

But what about the baggage?

You know what I mean by baggage.  It is the residue of old hurts and old disappointments, the coping mechanisms that they activate in us that then become defensive pieces of armor welded to our personalities.  This baggage-armor is heavy and we are naturally fused to it.  It takes action akin to surgery to remove it.

And so, new beginnings bring new hope and ideas of walking away from the old, but do we really?  How much of the old poison is carried over like extra vacation days?

Introducing the concept of COMPLETION.

This year, before even making my resolutions, I have applied myself to letting go.  But it isn’t something I was born knowing how to do.  I researched it, discussed it with wise people in my life, and worked through some very practical steps that were recommended to me.  My findings were that it is not a short process and it is not worth doing if not done thoroughly.  It involves the complete purging of ones’ emotions around the issue, taking the lessons out of the soup, and finding gratefulness to close the chapter.  New Years Day 2012 has found me prepared like an athlete working her way through weeks of training for a marathon to let go, complete, and move on.

I have spent the better part of this afternoon and many afternoons leading up to this writing out every emotion and purging myself, driving through this process.  I have isolated circumstances and protagonists of 2011 and those carried over from before and vomited page after page after page of written words.  Words carrying weight that have sat on my bones and joints and festered in my organs like a cancer.  The process began weeks ago and layer after layer has been stripped revealing my clean and healthy essence in place of rough and calloused armor.  By no means is this process fully complete.  But I am excited to find that there is soooo much space once you defragment your emotions and choose what you’d like to save! 

The New Year finds many a home spotless and expectant.  There are festivities and celebrations all over the world.  Desks are cleaned on the last day of work for the year.  Garbage is taken out of the house.  All in preparation for a fresh start.  But what of hearts?  What of minds?

I challenge every one of my readers to face this year with confidence.  Complete your grief processes and the cycles of disappointment as best you can.  Forgive where that is called for.  Chip away at your callouses.  Purge yourself of your baggage.  And offer the space that you have cleaned out to the will of God and new opportunities.  Face the adventure of your future with space.  Space for love, space for joy, space for adventure and space to grow.

Travel light!  Happy New Year!

No more rain… no more pain…

That last night as I stood looking over the night sky a sense that this moment would be special came to me.  There are defining moments in life that we do not recognize at the outset, so cloaked are they in the veil of the ordinary.   But their flavour lingers and their perfume settles on your soul to become a part of you, an enrichment of you, and a turning point for you.  This time with Nena sat out over the rain-washed garden and looking up into the stars of La Ceiba with un tragito is one of the memories I treasure most from my short time in Honduras.

We spoke of life, of the love of country, of the power of womanhood.  She asked me what was happening in my life and sat waiting as I spoke of my love of work.  I do love my job and throw myself in.  When that topic was exhausted she sat waiting some more, looking at me gently.  Sensing no escape I went on, told her of my troubles, my struggle to recover from a few heavy blows in swift succession.  I didn’t belabour or expand and in a few short sentences cut to the core.  There was no need to embellish – Nena feels it as I do.  “Trraicionera” she swore under her breath and as I finished she spat out “Mentiroso!”

Aiii m’hija…” her advice to me was priceless and matter of fact.  No need for dramatics.  The power of her feelings came across without the theatre of flowery words.  “Mejor soltera que mal acompañada, m’hija.  Hay mujeres tracioneras en esta vida… y hombres mentirosos… interesadas en cada calle… ”  She advised me for some time on the management of my friendships, the balance of my personal life and my work, and the part I can play in my family life.

She went on to tell me of her life, of her own deep love and the devastation of betrayal.  She told me of her suffering, of her passion for her family and her city.  I listened to the beautiful melody of her spanish and felt my own battery recharging as she continued on, great peace in her voice together with the quick-blood of life.

In life there are defining moments brought about by powerful colourful people.  Not for my Nena the essence of insipid pastel yellow and baby blue.  She is a woman of pulsing blood-red like her ginger lilies, the lush green of the life of her mountains, and the sharp, clear lightning of her intelligent mind.

Across Latin America there are peaks and valleys, love and pain, people of dominance and people of passion.  My Nena is a mountain, plain as day.  Never again will I apologise for feeling deeply, for speaking powerfully, for being all of me at full intensity.  Never will I feel shame at being too much or too scary or too bold or too strong.  There is a whole continent of people who feel as deeply as I do and do not fear to show it.  It makes us dangerous when we want to be, strong when we need to be, and an ocean-depth full of love when the time comes for us to be.

This is who I am.  And thank you Nena for encouraging me to be.  To be me.

THE POWER

There is a power that is often forgotten and underestimated.  A source of energy that has been fought over, written about, struggled against for centuries.  The fear of it has driven some of the most brutal social systems of the human story into being.  The desire to own it has sparked some of the most memorable battles since time began.  The power has been used to conquer, to tear down walls, and to burst through carefully constructed ceilings.  But the battles rage on as long as it remains undiminished.  No man can stand against it.

It is the power inside every woman – the power of a woman’s love.

It is not a wishy-washy romantic notion, this Love of a Woman.  It goes beyond the object and into the character and purpose of woman in the scheme of all existence.  In the posts to come this power will be explored.  It will take several days to cover it fully.  But be sure to stay tuned to the stream as we dive deeper into just how powerful this energy is, where we as people lose sight of it and take it for granted, and what we can do to nurture and grow it even more, closer and closer to its fullest capacity.

To my lady readers, I invite you to examine yourselves as this series begins and feel free to jump in with your insights.

To my reading gents, please follow along.  Perhaps it will guide you not only to the power inside you but help you find it for yourself and embrace it without fear in the woman you seek or the woman you now love.

To all… swim awhile with me in the Singlestream on the current of power…

In My Own Bed

 

© Brent Mclennon

I’ve travelled the world

And learned what I could

I’ve been more adventurous

Than they said I should

But if on one morning

I find myself dead

I’m sincerely hoping

It’s in my own bed.

 

Love has come and gone

And left me all shook

My own fragile peace

I have often forsook

And learned the hard way

There’s much to be said

For the sweet solitude

Found in my own bed.

 

Still though I roam

Seeking all earthly good

Venturing far from

My own neighbourhood

Betrayals lay waiting

Down paths I’ve been led

Leaving me deeply longing

For my own gentle bed

 

So I’ll let myself be

Wined and then dined

And choose for my company

Life’s best refined

But when time winds down

To rest weary head

You best be believing

It’s in my own bed

 

Vodka makes you pregnant

Bile makes you wise

But the truth of the moment

Lies hid from one’s eyes

Fight hard dear one against

Games played with your head

And escape from all danger

To your sensible bed

 

Pick sense from nonsense

And do not be fooled

For the bed of another

Is only a tool

Employed by the best

Who will see your soul dead

You’d best be retreating

To your own honest bed

 

There you’ll find a dear sister

In sweet solitude

And her gentle companion

A charmed interlude

That lures a dear lover

With words yet unsaid

And a heart that finds passion

And home in your bed

 

In my own bed

Overlooking the sea

I’ll rest in the peace

Of me doing me

And no matter the poison

Whether thought, done or said

I’ll sleep easy knowing

I’m in my own bed.

 

You’re sorry… uh huh

© Brent Mclennon, Donkey otherwise known as…

After months spent crying and clearing my head

Erasing photo memories of moments now dead

You feel the obnoxious need arise

To message me and apologise.

You’ve flicked through your album of time spent fooling me

And in your own image dislike what you see.

My forgiveness you crave to clean off yourself

It’s not about me, it’s for your own health.

Please don’t come apologising to me!

It will only succeed in setting you free

And I am not ready to free you yet, so

Go live a little longer with your regret.