Windmills Of The Mind
Without Prejudice
Writing it all out has begun to put the past behind me. All my bitternesses or petty jealousies gone forever, released on the page. Spewing forth venom and bile and rage, so much healthier exorcised, and dealt with.
Half his fault, half mine and I suck up my half like a vacuum cleaner, remembering what it was like, forced to, and I realise I don't miss it.
I hate violence and loud voices and dissent. And every morning I do a meditation on the work and myself and love and I am ready for the day.
Remembering the Qui Jong discipline, I learned five months ago and the relaxation.
I like me instead and will not go dancing before the light until I am ready. Ready to be the person that I can be, more patient I hope and not so dismissive, like my Mother.
Before she went mad, we were the old and the young, I was 14 when I told her to shut up, and she knocked me across the room with a back hand.
Dad backing her and saying
"If she hadn't done it, I would have "
I was properly humbled.
And her mad, sad death is dealt with and I know she's happy, truly contented at last.
and I feel like lately I am talking about death all the time. Just one of those things, deaths running together, it happens, we always say 3 things bad and 3 things good.
And the Anniversary phenonema approaches and we will all try and be polite together and end up belting each other in the head, metaphorically, so we keep separate for now.The girls and I.
So I will talk about rebirth instead,
I am a different person since six months ago. I kick harder and kick over the traces. I don't worry about what people think, other people have their own lives and problems. I try and not get involved any more.
My sense of injustice will always be strong, but I temper it these days with reason.
Surely if people were that unhappy they would do something about it. So no sense in me boo hooing over it, as Jackie always says,
"Who are these people to me again, they are nothing to me??"
I hug my family close to me because even 5 minutes spent with them is like a small slice of heaven. And all my family is like this in their adoration of kids, my kids, so I am lucky.
I am grateful to have the life I have. Grateful to it's ease and beauty, I can write to my hearts content and dance with my Grand kids all at the same time.
And by writing I realise I am not perfect, nor do I want to be. I mess up the bed and leave clothes unhung. Something I would never allow myself to do before.
I appreciate the people in my life more and hope I don't sound, drippy, hippy "new age" as I hate those terms with a passion.
But time spent on my own at Camp Eden, with no outside distractions was pretty intense and exposed all my weaknesses and strengths. My hating to be around people I don't know that well, all of us sharing the experience,
Shocked at other people's problems and they probably went home and thought who was that lady who kept talking about her Family as if they were some sort of shield she hid behind.
I hated being forced to examine my life and values and morals, never thinking that they would be challenged every day, and it was so seductive in it's loveliness and solitude. And so profane at the same time.
Human beings being what they are, there was one up man ship and bragging and pretence and gradually you are stripped of all your layers. And the real results come later, in the months passed.
T was told she worried about others too much, lives she had no control over. I was told the same thing,
I worried about my kids too much, putting my life on hold for theirs and I am mature enough to let them make their own mistakes and won't interfere no matter how much they ask.
They have to make their own mistakes or they won't learn. One a great manipulator in the past but she's happy and quiet these days, so that's a miracle.
I no longer tolerate fools who want to waste my time and I hate lies and infidelity with it's dark hurts and secretiveness. I have been guilty of the same thing and I can only resolve to not be that person again.
Learning from past mistakes, I hope, with crossed fingers and a big grin
I've become more vain, my body shedding three dress sizes and it feels better than anything I've felt in years, stripping ten years of living off me. Forced as I was to exercise and finding I liked it, but not my fat body.
And now I will get crepey skin and boobs that will look like windsocks with a marble in the end, that will slide under my arms and need pushing back up.
But I have more energy, so that is a bonus and I can stretch and bend and not feel sore or stiff.
I think everyone should do themselves a favour and get out of the Rat Race for a while. The stressors gone, the phone, the email, the texts, the constant drip drip drip of every day life.
I feel more authentic or something, more myself and I realise I basically like all of them, the ones I write about, no more venom, but ironically that state of agitation is what people like to read about, The sturm and drang as the germans call it.
The dramatic and secretive and the hates and mess that is life laid bare on the page to be examined and I can write that way. But I can't homogenise it. And I won't, it has to come as it comes and when I am done with it, I store it away for future use.
Small suggestions noted but basically you have to write as if no one else is reading it.
I am trying to not be so distrustful of men. All men are bad and good, and a 70 percent, waits for me somewhere.
He's a writer too and wants to change the world and save kids and help rehouse people, like I do. And I am a feminist and independent and think women ar far superior to most men, as they are more nurturing and caring.
Not unless he had an enormous house split in two and liked to read and write and would leave me alone until I was ready. Not much of a life for him. I have always believed the relationship is not the glue that holds people together. It's both people satisfied in what they do, like Marie Curie (144th Anniversary, today 7,11,2011) and her husband, their shared work was the reason for their being together.
And she had meant to marry another, one she adored, who's family denounced her because of her "poorness" and defeated she had gone to Paris and met the man Pierre Curie who was to become her husband. And she was contented and went on to do her best work.
They both shared the same goals and isn't that what it's all about, or is it the differences we seek??
Who knows???
Love Janette
Writing it all out has begun to put the past behind me. All my bitternesses or petty jealousies gone forever, released on the page. Spewing forth venom and bile and rage, so much healthier exorcised, and dealt with.
Half his fault, half mine and I suck up my half like a vacuum cleaner, remembering what it was like, forced to, and I realise I don't miss it.
I hate violence and loud voices and dissent. And every morning I do a meditation on the work and myself and love and I am ready for the day.
Remembering the Qui Jong discipline, I learned five months ago and the relaxation.
I like me instead and will not go dancing before the light until I am ready. Ready to be the person that I can be, more patient I hope and not so dismissive, like my Mother.
Before she went mad, we were the old and the young, I was 14 when I told her to shut up, and she knocked me across the room with a back hand.
Dad backing her and saying
"If she hadn't done it, I would have "
I was properly humbled.
And her mad, sad death is dealt with and I know she's happy, truly contented at last.
and I feel like lately I am talking about death all the time. Just one of those things, deaths running together, it happens, we always say 3 things bad and 3 things good.
And the Anniversary phenonema approaches and we will all try and be polite together and end up belting each other in the head, metaphorically, so we keep separate for now.The girls and I.
So I will talk about rebirth instead,
I am a different person since six months ago. I kick harder and kick over the traces. I don't worry about what people think, other people have their own lives and problems. I try and not get involved any more.
My sense of injustice will always be strong, but I temper it these days with reason.
Surely if people were that unhappy they would do something about it. So no sense in me boo hooing over it, as Jackie always says,
"Who are these people to me again, they are nothing to me??"
I hug my family close to me because even 5 minutes spent with them is like a small slice of heaven. And all my family is like this in their adoration of kids, my kids, so I am lucky.
I am grateful to have the life I have. Grateful to it's ease and beauty, I can write to my hearts content and dance with my Grand kids all at the same time.
And by writing I realise I am not perfect, nor do I want to be. I mess up the bed and leave clothes unhung. Something I would never allow myself to do before.
I appreciate the people in my life more and hope I don't sound, drippy, hippy "new age" as I hate those terms with a passion.
But time spent on my own at Camp Eden, with no outside distractions was pretty intense and exposed all my weaknesses and strengths. My hating to be around people I don't know that well, all of us sharing the experience,
Shocked at other people's problems and they probably went home and thought who was that lady who kept talking about her Family as if they were some sort of shield she hid behind.
I hated being forced to examine my life and values and morals, never thinking that they would be challenged every day, and it was so seductive in it's loveliness and solitude. And so profane at the same time.
Human beings being what they are, there was one up man ship and bragging and pretence and gradually you are stripped of all your layers. And the real results come later, in the months passed.
T was told she worried about others too much, lives she had no control over. I was told the same thing,
I worried about my kids too much, putting my life on hold for theirs and I am mature enough to let them make their own mistakes and won't interfere no matter how much they ask.
They have to make their own mistakes or they won't learn. One a great manipulator in the past but she's happy and quiet these days, so that's a miracle.
I no longer tolerate fools who want to waste my time and I hate lies and infidelity with it's dark hurts and secretiveness. I have been guilty of the same thing and I can only resolve to not be that person again.
Learning from past mistakes, I hope, with crossed fingers and a big grin
I've become more vain, my body shedding three dress sizes and it feels better than anything I've felt in years, stripping ten years of living off me. Forced as I was to exercise and finding I liked it, but not my fat body.
And now I will get crepey skin and boobs that will look like windsocks with a marble in the end, that will slide under my arms and need pushing back up.
But I have more energy, so that is a bonus and I can stretch and bend and not feel sore or stiff.
I think everyone should do themselves a favour and get out of the Rat Race for a while. The stressors gone, the phone, the email, the texts, the constant drip drip drip of every day life.
I feel more authentic or something, more myself and I realise I basically like all of them, the ones I write about, no more venom, but ironically that state of agitation is what people like to read about, The sturm and drang as the germans call it.
The dramatic and secretive and the hates and mess that is life laid bare on the page to be examined and I can write that way. But I can't homogenise it. And I won't, it has to come as it comes and when I am done with it, I store it away for future use.
Small suggestions noted but basically you have to write as if no one else is reading it.
I am trying to not be so distrustful of men. All men are bad and good, and a 70 percent, waits for me somewhere.
He's a writer too and wants to change the world and save kids and help rehouse people, like I do. And I am a feminist and independent and think women ar far superior to most men, as they are more nurturing and caring.
Not unless he had an enormous house split in two and liked to read and write and would leave me alone until I was ready. Not much of a life for him. I have always believed the relationship is not the glue that holds people together. It's both people satisfied in what they do, like Marie Curie (144th Anniversary, today 7,11,2011) and her husband, their shared work was the reason for their being together.
And she had meant to marry another, one she adored, who's family denounced her because of her "poorness" and defeated she had gone to Paris and met the man Pierre Curie who was to become her husband. And she was contented and went on to do her best work.
They both shared the same goals and isn't that what it's all about, or is it the differences we seek??
Who knows???
Love Janette
