me
Flight
Once upon a time in a place and a time not too far away from now, there was a family of three with beautiful wings. And they flew here and there and everywhere, until one day.
The Mamas Wings got clipped. But Daddy’s Wings and baby wings were still fine. So they still went here and there and everywhere. But mama no longer did. Mama had to find something else to do. Flight was no longer possible. So she thought, and she thought, and she thought some more. What can one do without wings?
So she started to write. Sometimes the pages flew off the screen. Sometimes it took her more than a day to write one sentence. But at least she had something to do, so she did not think so much that she has lost her ability to fly.
The baby was no longer a baby. And she did not remember that the mother could ever fly. And it made her so forlorn. Where Once Upon a Time she flew everywhere with her. All she wanted to do is play with her mother. her mother could no longer play in the Wind. It is hard to explain to a child, that once you were like them. But now you are not. And you will never have Wings again.
One day she will show her what she has written. She will show her that there is more to her than flight. But when you are a child, all that matters is to your wings.
And the mother knew this. So she was content letting the father and the baby go here and there and everywhere without her. So she was often alone. With her thoughts. With her written word. That she very seldom showed people. Because they are words for her. To help her from going crazy. Because it’s hard to sit knowing you once were able to fly. And instead of feeling sorry for herself she decided to write a story.
Knowing that she would probably never show this story to anyone, she decided to write about herself. And how she lost her wings. And how once she went here and there and everywhere. And how lonely it is being in a family of three when you really know deep down you are in the family of one. And one is the loneliest number.
So in her state of Solitude oh, she explained to the pages how she lost her wings. It was not her fault. These things do happen. When we least expect them. So we need to be grateful before we lose our wings.
And she knows one day her baby will grow up and will appreciate all the love she’s given her without her wings. She knows she cannot fly here and there and everywhere but her love still goes with her.
So she write this oh, and she must remember, that although she is always alone she is never alone. For her love goes here and there and everywhere.
What is the moral of the story? I think you know. Tell your wings you love them, because they take you here and there and everywhere, and you never know when you might lose them.
Alone
Alone
Sitting alone. Ever alone. Staring out into that endless void of contemplation. Knowing that you are completely helpless alone. Ever alone. And being one with the loneliness, leaves you to sit in this shell of emptiness, ever reaching, ever hoping, never knowing.
Thoughts stretch out across the infinit chasm that is your mind. Wondering if in this forever state of Solitude, if others have traveled into the realm of the same loneliness, and if so, are we truly ever alone?
One cannot help but dwell upon this narcissistic need to have thoughts that are completely of One’s Own doing. But if every thought has been thought before, one can never truly be alone, even amidst the empty loneliness that is your room. Your contemplation begins maddeningly to unravel. In the simplest sense, I think therefore I am, can never be achieved, knowing that the thought has been thought by someone else.
Sitting alone. Ever alone. Now drawing upon the conclusion that one is never truly alone, if one’s thoughts have been thought before, you realize the loneliness you feel has been perfected by so many. Stretching deep into that bottomless void you can never achieve the contemplation you desire. Knowing that your thoughts are not your own, knowing that I think therefore I am, has been found to be invalid, do you continue contemplating?
Or do you cease, give up, finding there to be no point even to put your words down on paper. You are left with an emptiness like you have never felt before. And you realize that you are truly, alone. Ever alone.
Everything I know, I got wrong.
Everything I know, I got wrong.
I am 41 years old. I love education. I love history, English, mathematics, you name it if it was education, I loved it.
This year I recently learned about the Tulsa Massacre. How did I not know about this? Why was it not in my history book? I understand history can be embarrassing. Slavery is pretty embarrassing, but I still learned about it oh, now I am beginning to question everything I ever learned.
I know I learned the battles of the Civil War different from students that live in the southern states. They choose to name them after creeks, but Northerners like to name them after fort or towns. Doesn’t make them different battles. Sherman’s marching to the sea no matter what you called the battles. But at least we learned about them.
The Tulsa Massacre happened in 1921. That is 59 years before I was born. And I know more about the Civil War. My white Anglo-Saxon Protestant brain is deeply troubled by this.
What else did I get wrong? By occupation I am an English teacher. I learned all about William Shakespeare. I am classically trained. Yet, today we question who William Shakespeare was! How much of what he wrote in Henry the fourth was truly fiction? How much did Socrates and Plato actually know? When I read Plato my favorite was allegory of the cave. What if someone else wrote it and he took credit?
Yes, I know probably not. But because I just learned about the Tulsa Massacre now I question everything. And I don’t want to question everything. I have always relied on my education to get me through anything. I have never doubted it. Greenwood in Tulsa Oklahoma has ruined that for me.
As a teacher, I would never lie to my students. But how do I know the facts I am teaching them are the truth?
Annual birthday blog!
Well, it is official, WordPress family and blog in poetry followers, I am 41 and over the hill. And I’ve never been happier about it. As you know, I am on borrowed time. Felt like that ever since I was on life support a few years back. But this is what I have learned today,
I love my family so much. The best present I could ever have I already got! At Mother’s Day dinner, it was so nice to be able to hug everyone. Because we are all vaccinated now! You don’t realize how much you need a hug, until you’re not allowed to hug your family because of a pandemic.
Today has also told me that I am not young anymore. I wake and bake this morning. Man, I’m not young anymore. I don’t like this feeling in the morning. Luckily I am writing in this now as it is wearing off. But hey, I’m a New Yorker, and I can talk to you about this because it is legal now ☺️ still feels weird to me. How about all of you? This is probably how they felt when alcohol prohibition ended. You still feel like you need to sneak around even though you don’t need to. It is weird
So what can I tell you also about my 41st birthday, my husband and I did not want to mention it, but it seems like I’m a little stronger. Maybe some new neural pathways are growing years after stem cell transplant! I don’t know, I am just grateful. Any little bit of strength I can get I am grateful for. I await the results of my MRI, hopefully no news will be good news.
Happy May 10th 2021, friends! I think we might be coming out of this pandemic. Thanks for sharing another birthday with me, what is my birthday wish? Well I have everything that I want, so I will make an environmental wish. Let’s all plant a lot of flowers for the bees this year! We may have found a way to come out of this pandemic, but the murder Hornets are another story….
Happy 420
Happy 420
Happy 420 21, everyone! Like many people, 20 years ago I celebrated 420 not telling anyone that I was celebrating 420! Times have greatly changed, thank goodness. But let’s look back over the past 420. Let’s see if we can find a common seeing besides for the obvious.
I believe it was 420 in 1994 when I was celebrating 420 with a friend. We both skipped school that day. While we were celebrating, the news came on the television. The Columbine shooting was going on at the Columbine High School in Colorado. We both thought it was a joke! Who shoots up a high school on 4/20? Sadly, it was not a joke. Forever leaving me with this memory on what should be a happy day.
The next few decades we still spend 420 in hiding. I was taught that marijuana is a gateway drug. The Dare program. Taught me that marijuana is bad! It will lead to things like cocaine and heroin! So stay away from it.
The Dare program totally had the opposite effect on me. Yes, it was successful in making me afraid of marijuana. But the problem with the Dare program, was it taught me how to use all the other drugs! I had no idea what cocaine was, until I took the Dare program. I had no idea what heroin was, until I took the Dare program.
So we learn to celebrate 4/20 in silence. Because we were criminals! And marijuana would only lead us to Skid Row, right? I’m glad to say that the Dare program was not right. I did not wind up on skid row because of marijuana. I did take some wrong turns in life, but marijuana was never the culprit.
20 years later I am happy to say New York State finally realizes what I have known for 20 years. That marijuana is a medicine. Instead of taking opiates, I only use THC as a nerve pain medicine. It took you long enough New York State! But I will take what I can get. And I am grateful that New York state is finally seeing what many of us have known all along. Marijuana is medicinal.
So finally we can celebrate 4/20 together not in the shadows! But unfortunately, this 420 we are spending it waiting for the jury to deliberate on the Derek Chauvin case. This is what I meant by my memories of 420 aren’t as happy as they should be. Worst of all, Hitler’s birthday is 420. I am starting to think maybe we should celebrate this holiday on a different day!
Hopefully, many of you reading this are young. And you don’t even remember Columbine shooting. And you can celebrate 420 the way it should be celebrated.
I am only 40 years old, I have seen a lot of four twenties in my day, I am old enough to live and remember why we call it 4:20. Do you know? It is because 420 used to be a police code. When they had a drug charge, usually marijuana, they would broadcast on the radio for 20 in progress. Giving people time to unload their drugs. I believe this was in California, but don’t quote me. Needless to say, the police got wind of this and they stop using that code. But 420 was forever indoctrinated as a marijuana holiday!
So now you all know why I truly love 420, but I wish we celebrated it on a different day. Too many bad memories. Hopefully, the next two decades will inspire a happier 4:20. One where we no longer have to be in the shadows, I still kind of feel like I need to hide it, and I have a medicinal marijuana license! We have been so indoctrinated into thinking that marijuana is a drug. I blame the Dare program. So I end with peace and love and I wish you all a happy and healthy for 20. May it remain a holiday where we sit around and get the munchies and giggle and remember to trust your own instincts always! Because the Dare program led me astray, so happy you young people will never have to experience that Madness!
laurelinobrien 