Eat Pray Love

A night with my daughter led to diving into the movie Eat, Pray, Love starring Julia Roberts. I have been waiting to see this movie - attracted mainly by the title itself and ofcourse knowing Roberts will always deliver a worth seeing performance.

Verdict? It was enjoyable with a couple thought provoking moments. Honestly, I waited for "the moment" to happen. I felt a glimpse of what it would be like to be in Italy, the architecture, the food, the language, and the people. A travelogue with a few intimate flings to spice up the "find myself" journey. My favorite part is just the dreaming of being on the trip she was taking. Maybe that was the point. From the point of being numb and unexcited about life to exploring and expanding personal limitations to spark the life back into the day. I can understand that. I can appreciate that. But honestly, I expected more. Will watch it again. Just because I did expect more and feel jilted.

So, as for my life. I am confident with the day if I have faced it with a hint of passion. The days that scare me is when I see the end and all the in between is just that "grey filler" that means nothing because it will end when I end.

I went to the library yesterday and browsed the poetry anthologies for something that would jump out and awaken something in me. Taking out aged hard covered Elliot, crisp Atwood, and colorful names I had never heard of. Then, there she was, Anne Sexton Complete Poems. I had heard the name and wanted to explore more women authors. How did they handle their crazy. I continued the evening being a taxi and waiting in my little black bucket of bolts reading the introduction to Sexton's work. A history of a troubled sucidal woman who dared to spill her confessionals during a time when women's secrets were just that - secret. A natural flowing string of words devulging her love affair with death - specifically her own death. The scary realization is I relate to so much of her life and why she writes. She wrote to survive, to live, to stop from wanting to kill herself. I don't relate to the woman who walked with a barbie doll presence or the middle class view on the world. I relate to the loneliness and death that seemed to consume her days and led to her eventual suicide. I have walked with this cloud over me and survived with scars from my own attempts to escape my chaotic mind. But I did come out from that storm. I struggle each day to keep from drowning in my own mind. So I write.

Eat, Pray, Love....I guess that is a good start. I like the title. A morning cup of coffee, a plate of breakfast 'something', and cigarette while being an observer from my kitchen window. I may not have Paris today but I smiled. I smiled because I still feed. I still crave for candy apples and flavored coffee. I still yearn for the knowing only spiritual awareness can provide. I still can shed a 'real' tear when a child cries. I can still dream of being loved and sharing love. Yes. That's a good start for the day.
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This Moment Is Mine

There are days like these. Too many to count. I still have dreams and passions. Yet, society has put me on the shelf. I fulfilled the academic expectation to my best ability. I flew into the workforce wanting to be part of the solution. I raised my family to be independent and knowledgable. I kicked the crutches of alcohol and drugs. I forgave the monsters and hugged my enemies. I don't have a criminal record. I embrace my imperfections and use them to strengthen my passions. Yet...yet...I am still here the same way I was ten or twenty years ago. Still asking the same questions. Still hearing the same answers.

Every morning appears to be a new opportunity provided to me. I can make a change in a direction that will be different from yesterday. Then I am flooded with the reality of how much work it will take to achieve my dream or reach a goal. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to be judgemental. I don't want to blame the white man, my mother, a politician, my children, my neighbor, the rich, the poor, the racist, or me. I just want to make my life mean something. I want my children to look back and be proud to say that was my mother. I want my grandchildren to walk with honor knowing I gave what I could to ensure they could carry on strength in knowing who they are.

The world will not know my name. My nieces and nephews won't even say my name. When the years pass that is all that matters. "Who will remember?"

There isn't much I can say about his day that is different from any other day. I can say I am giving it another try. I know my blessings. I am aware of the escape I have perfected. I live with smiles, love, and passion.

This moment is mine.

Being Alive!

The mornings are my favorite time of day. I love the feeling of coolness and quiet in the kitchen. The scent of brewing of coffee and sweetgrass smoke triggering childhood memories - those good memories.

This morning, I lay with eyes closed attempting to convince myself of the reasons why I should get up. No job. Goals lined in failed attempts. Broken dryer. Piles of laundry. Plans replayed and never realized. Promises made and not kept. Teenagers in drugs. Teenagers dropping out of school. Teenagers dropping back into school. My son calls me a hypocrite. My grandson tells me he hates me. My daughter isn't speaking to me. My other daughter is pregnant 'again'. Where did my son get that money last night? Were the police watching the house? He hates that I think that of him. My bed is broken. I am sleeping on the couch again - where my grandson wet in his sleep. I am gaining my weight back. I am afraid to exercise. I am afraid to take risks. I have many good intentions. I do more in my head than in my physical reality. I am still struggling to make ends meet. I dye my hair. I can't look in the mirror. My grandson barely knows how to read. The world will never know me. I will never know the world. How is my mother? My brother sent me sixty dollars. Will I lie to get money? Will I drink like that again? The closet needs cleaning. The window needs fixing. The door needs repairing. The screens need replacing. Can't avoid looking poor. The city is filled with racists with a voice. I don't have a job. I can smell the coffee. I can smell the sweetgrass. I can hear ...... the mornings are so beautiful. I am here. And no matter what I still care, want, need, plan, love, smile, and face the morning. I am grateful for all of it. That's what being alive means.

Distant from the Being as Humans

And the World is in poverty now! A reality in so many ways. We have starved ourselves almost to death by disconnecting with our main life force 'the Earth'. It is only in the reestablishing our connection as allies of the earth can we save ourselves. I have watched documentaries and read articles that reflect a hint of hope for the human 'beings' even after all the damage that has been done. BP oil spill "murderer of the ocean". Mother Nature's wrath spreading her cleansing hands with wind, storms, and earth shakes. An unrest with the people as they confront their governments once again to protest the neglect and disrespect of the commonman's plight to survive. These are enormous issues that span the whole planet. Yet in the shadows are the those whose voice has been taken during the decline of their lives. Asleep in alleyways, feeding from backdoor bins, stealing a can meat from a corner store, hunting sick and poluted animals, serving affordable junk to their children, drinking colorful water, and still dreaming it can change atleast for the children. What now happens to those who have been born into poverty? This is the thought that stirs my need to stand up and gather all the information that is out there and say "lets do this!" Turn the information into knowledge through doing, and wisdom through living.

It is easy to say grow your own food if you have the tools and the experience.
So....provide the tools and experience. Share the knowledge in every community! Let it be the way it has to be. Every neighbor to have a healthy meal for themselves and their family. And for those carnivores well hunting is still a great way to feed "families". It is the pollution and sicknesses that is making it difficult to trust this old survival way. But protect areas to ensure the natural habitant is available is a start.

I have a wish list and one item on the list is like many other families..'a home' to call my own. I have done alot of research on the variety of alternative housing projects being developed around the world. I don't understand why it wouldn't be considered as an alternative on a wider scale for impoverished families. An energy efficient home where the one time bill comes only in the materials. A home built with renewable resources to cut the cost to more than half for the finished product. Not For Profit organization run by citizens of the rural/urban area with a goal to ensure every family has a home. A barter system or mortgage payment as an option to assist in securing the home for the individual/family. For example; the new homeowner will now share the new homebuilding skills with future homeowners and share in the building of a new home. There are so many positives that could come out of feeling you have something worth while to offer and also have the pleasure of seeing the product of your hard work. Training and education for the building of the home and the continue learning in areas such as gardening (community gardens for example). A committment by Governments for the financial support for the training and resources to fulfill this goal. When one considers the cost of services put toward government housing, financial aid, and the thousands of programs developed and redeveloped to feed and house the homeless, this would be an investment in more ways than one.

These are not new ideas. We have become distant from the "being" as humans. Not only have we disconnected from our life source but we have created armor around our lives so we will not feel the pain of the world. Hoping maybe just maybe it will get better on its own. It is not to say we don't have the heart..the spirit...to make a change. I only say it is time to put our differences aside and realize we are all One on One Earth. Our only real Home. What is here was meant to be utilized with respect and honour for its abundance and generousity. There is no need for one person to be hungry in this world today. There is no reason why those who desire a home should not have one. There is no need for a government that only serves its own agenda as long as we have our voice! It's our differences that have created the dark shame over human life.

My Son Has A Job

Well he did it. It is the feat that has challenged everyone of us in the family - finding employment. It took two years but his resumes finally landed him a job for afterschool and weekends. I worry that it may effect his already stressed time for class assigments but I know he also "needs" things I can't get him right now. Never mind the list of wants. I hate the fact that I couldn't provide for him like his friends' parents. The positive is he will learn to find his own way in this world. Hopefully without the bitterness that the obvious inequalities of opportunity can create. He knows he will have to work hard and appreciate the bits that he recieves. Back to the interview, it went well and now he will be going in for training on Tuesday. He will be a cook in a nice little restaurant. It all works out in time. A couple years ago he said he was interested in becoming a chef. He is so excited. He is already making plans for his first pay cheque. That makes me smile. The first on his list is a sweater and supper with the family. I love my son. Even though he can sure be a challenge sometimes I love everything about him.

The reality of living with limited means tends to surface during tense situations. I had a few words with my son today. Is the time we have together worth spending even a second in anger? I know it bothers us that we "don't have" and we are just making it with very little. The stress of this can tear families apart. The main goal is to ensure these times do not fester into the following days. We are not a perfect family but anger is sure felt ten fold especially in the mist of hard times. He is downstairs right now kicking around a ball. A bit of a tense cloud above our home. Fits in perfect considering it is on the verge of the first snow of the season. Cold and raining grey day. Yet, it still seems like 'all is good and the way it should be'.
I think we all try to hard when comparing to the outside world. The Hollywood or even cartoon portrayals of family life influence the young minds and build unreal expectations. Having a dream is one thing but attempting to recreate fictional characters from a world where sickness finds miraculous cures or everyone has a job with pay enough for the bills, is just plain cruel. Happiness becomes based on something or someone 'not real'. For instance, the two parent family is the ideal in any scenario. Or having a family vacation is not unreasonable. But when those are not present and seem to the simplest in the 'dream', the bigger dream becomes less likely. My daughter wanted to study to be a pediatrician. She experienced the hardships and realizes it is possible but has let it slip even farther from her grasp because of the hardships. I wanted to be a published author. I let that dream sit for so many years that I feel it is farther and farther from reach. For my son, it has been over a year now since he has seen or spoken to his father. There is nothing I can do as a mother that will replace what is needed from a father. (I read back on this ramble and hope that it all makes some sense). Happiness an empty word and over used word until it is shared. I watched a very thought provoking movie a week or so ago...Into the Wild or something. A few words that stuck to me were, 'happiness is not real unless shared'. Wow. Simplicity. Yet, for some, a piece of knowledge that takes a lifetime to acquire.
Thanksgiving day tomorrow. We have the turkey and not much fixings but we are all just happy to have the family to share it with.I can't wait until the aroma of turkey and cake fill our home and we can sit together for another time. That is what it is all about. I have my family. And 'no' the second wasted on anger was not worth the minutes wasted dwelling. Food. I'll make my son something as a teaser for tomorrow's feast or a celebration for his new job. He has a kind heart and strong mind. High Fives all around to anyone and everyone starting a new job this week or any week for that matter!


Peace and HumanKindness

Fast Forward

Ok so I am looking back at my recent writings and found a very depressing person. Although my life isn’t at its worst keeping my head together has been challenging. I guess I can say my first thought in my head each morning is ‘what can I do today to make our lives better?’ And what always comes to mind is using my skills to make money from home. That may include making ribbon shirts, dance outfits, tote bags, or what ever I can think of that may bring in a few dollars. As I am writing this I am overwhelming myself with thoughts of bills and family needs. The student fees for my teenagers haven’t been paid. The water utility bill hasn’t been paid. And basically I have $100 to buy groceries for four of us that will last three weeks. That I know I can do but leaving the bills unpaid creates more problems down the road.

Okay and another thing. I reviewed my intentions when I began this blog and realized although having readers wasn’t really the main objective, now if I had readers they may add some thoughts to how I could climb out of this life rut.

As for today, I am paying for my impatience with the healing of my foot. I worked 12 hour days and then came home to do running around for the family. I spent maybe 2 hours in the day resting my foot. Now as a result of not taking care of myself I cannot walk without a crutch and I feel drained when I do have to go out of the house. This only bothers me because if I am feeling drained I have no ambition to begin any projects to bring in those much needed dollars. I have my grandson with me and he needs my attention as well. Yet when I think of all this it is nothing compared to the blessings I feel the day has brought. I am still able to make choices and still have the opportunities available to me, although limited they are available. I will make the best of this day and fast forward my goals of changing this reality for my family.

Gathering Pieces

There are thoughts and feelings that pass through my mind each day that fight to be put down on paper, tapped on the keyboard or yelled out in ramblings. The twist and turns in my life since the age of two have left me in times of confusion and exhilaration. I get confused with the images of a childhood that seems so unreal compared to my life today. The exhilaration comes from knowing I survived and stepped out of a world that gives little opportunity for escape. I feel I am not the type of person to dwell on the past to avoid the present. I have taken all the pieces, and it took years to put together what I have, and placed them back into my life as a reminder of who I am. Like a broken plate the pieces were scattered and unidentifiable. At times I would select only a few pieces that I felt belonged. But every shaving became an important aspect of my growth and strength. If I rejected even the tiniest piece I was rejecting a part of myself. All my experiences in these forty years of life have made me who I am. The pain, the abuse, the loss, the rejection, and then the final arrival have all created the person that sits here today. It is like when I call myself by name after leaving some place I was visiting it is done to ensure I do not become lonely for a part of me I left behind and therefore may want to return to retrieve it. This is something I was taught during my travels. And I do not want to return to those places that had instilled such pain but to reject the experience would mean rejecting a part of me – incomplete, not whole, and lost. All is a reminder of who I am and a reminder of my blessings.

change the world one potato at a time

A very long day. Well, with a limp and a crutch I have been welcomed back to sort those spuds. They even set up a stool for me to rest on while I sort. I couldn't stay home. The money to be earned is needed and helping to make some ends meet.

There are huge storage buildings waiting to be filled and inspected by prospective buyers. Along the sidelines are the unwanted potatoes that will quickly find their way to the garbage. I continue in obedience, throwing small perfect roasting potatoes into a pile mixed with rotten and green spuds. I know even my family would love to have mashed, baked, fried, or boiled. I didn't say a word in protest. I did inquire about the potatoes and sent a quiet complaint of how it is such a waste when there are so many hungry people that could surely make use of the odd sized and unwanted vegetable. Poverty. Environment. Industry. Health. It is amazing how we will ignore the issues when we are in need. The immediate problems of putting food on the table and keeping the power on in the home always seems to be priority. How can the impoverished be proactive in addressing issues of environmental urgency or resource waste, when the thought of their child's empty stomach during school is the only motivator for the day? I care about the environment, the Earth. I care about those that have lived without and need a helping hand. I care. Period. But for today, I have to care about my family. There is no one in this world that has stepped forward to say "I care about your family". So it is up to me.

For now all i can do is send those positive vibes with each potato...peace and humankindness. Changing the world one potato at a time. Smile no matter what. Just for the hell of it.

Now what!?

Well I finished the shift today. It was a long and very cold day. People are always saying be careful what you wish for you just might get it. Well I had many moments today when I wished I could be home in bed. And this evening as I was leaving my daughter's home I tripped and fell onto the cement. I swore i heard a crack. Without any real concern shown from my darling children I hobbled to the shower fighting back tears. I asked for a break and got it. Long story short I took myself to the emergency room and was told I cracked a bone in my foot. I will be hobbling for awhile. Stay off your feet the Doc says. No matter how I look at it there is no avoiding standing on my feet for the job. I have to quit. So much for the extra income. So much for feeling a bit of relief. I am so fricken used to disappointment yet I still don't like it one bit! I could limp and just keep the weight on the opposite leg. I have to avoid the supervisors or they will surely tell me to leave. Damn my foot hurts...aches. to top it off the Doc who tended to me in the emergency room asked about my employ and what i did..."sort the potatos and what about the unwanted imperfect potatoes what do they do with them? Could feed alot of people those little potatoes that are tossed." Guilt...I knew this but this goes into the topic of how poverty contributes to other issues of environmental impact and social complacency. So many potatoes. I can still smell the earth and hear the hollow clang against the sides of the potato shoot. Another experience. No fair. but all is good and the way it should be....just have to see it.

rotten potatoes

The Vegetable sorting job is one of the worst jobs I have had. I have scrubbed inner city toilets, washed unknown chocolate colored smears off walls, and harassed families over the phone for money. Sorting potatoes is definitely in the running for worst job. Arrive before the sun rises and wait alongside the chain smoking grumpy old men. Then when your shift begins your spot of two feet in front of a conveyor belt spits out potatoes of all shapes and sizes. First you have to get over the nauseating motion sickness attributed to the fast forward of the potatoes while your eyes are darting in search of the rotten ones. Once you have survived the motion sickness without incident (up chucking breakfast over potatoes) the tiredness of standing begins to take its toll. The occasional glitch with the machine provides a short rest but usually means a longer sorting period with potatoes piled up in waiting.

Okay, the positive. I feel good knowing I am going to get a pay cheque. Funny. I go to school like I am told. I get a degree like I am told. I apply for jobs like I am told. I remain patient like I am told. My degree got me a job sorting rotten potatoes. Well actually, the degree wasn't mentioned, just a match of desperation meets desperation. They needed help asap and I needed a job asap. I works out some how. Another long day tomorrow, 7am to 8pm. We travel about an hour to work. I am scrambling right now to make enough gas to get there again tomorrow. Damn gas prices. If it wasn't out in the boonies I would walk or ride a bike (if I had one). Time to rest. These 'young' grandma feet are aching and my back is screaming. Best get some sleep or there is no way I will make the 12 hour shift.

Scary World We Have Created

Desperation

A news cast today spoke of two young girls that had assaulted a woman then took her purse. This happened in the evening. I don’t know the circumstances of the girls who resorted to violence for an unknown amount of money but it did make me think about what a person would do in times of desperation.

I sat with the thought of “how desperate would I have to be to resort to acts of violence to achieve or receive what I needed?” There were times in my life when I watched as others ate a meal as my stomach ached with hunger. I was too young to be given employment (legitimate), too young for the hostiles, and too old to be taken in by any of the social services. In those moments of real hunger I contemplated stealing. I would play it over and over in my head. A ten dollar bill could buy a bag of food to last me a week. It would help me stay awake during the day. I spent a lot of time sleeping where I could because of hunger or just plain sadness. Playing the whole assault in my mind always led to seeing a stranger hurt by my hand. Maybe someone also in need for their family and then I come along. I never could do it. This also made me angry. The hardest moments when I was convinced a certain stranger would deserve to have his world shaken by a violent theft. I am thinking of those who would literally kick you to the curb for just walking on the same sidewalk. Maybe they would learn or understand to some degree what it was like to have been told “you have the world at your fingertips” and then find out that was a lie. The decision not to resort to violence in this time of my life was based on a need that no amount of food or money could replace. The need to still look at myself without shame. The world looked at me with distaste but I knew one day, one day, I would taste the type of freedom they had so easily taken for granted. Only a certain few make it out or in.

Back to the two young girls. Today there are so many excuses for why violence is used. I believe desperation is still one of them but it isn’t the strongest motivator. A sub culture fighting for power in what ever way is now the key to survival. They have learned that if you don’t take it you will never have anything. I don’t think this is any different no matter what society or community. The young have just picked up on it and now are enforcing it. A scary world we have created.

Empty Cupboards

Well a good a place as any to begin. Empty Cupboards. That's our reality today as two little ones wander through the house as cute as can be. We use our creativity to make the meals as interesting but more importantly, as filling as possible. They don't know yet. They don't know that the life we are living is considered 'poor' 'impoverished' 'low income' 'down and out'. What they do know is we have a life that is very much an improvement that took two generations to transform. My mother and grandmother both have me beat when it comes to 'hard times'. And the limitless abilities for creativity also was what helped in the survival of 13 plus children. Well, keeping the stomachs from growling through the night was only one of the worries of my grandmother's time. A lot of aunts and uncles didn't make it passed their twenties. Starvation of the spirit - took em in the night, on the street, broad daylight, at first newborn breath, during the 18th birthday. Starvation.
Reality in poverty today doesn't mean I live in a cardboard box. Although I feel that situation is too close lately. We have a home - rented- with bits of furniture. The bedrooms are supposed to be havens. I try make it so. With mattresses on the floor covered with homemade cushions. New beds are too expensive and when we buy used we don't think of its history just that it has no holes. Other people's mattresses. I try not to think to much. Well, pride was left back there somewhere maybe in the food bank line or seated in the financial assistance office. I had to make a choice. I received my degree shortly after i had my twins, babies three and four. The father couldn't make his mind up if he was going to stay or go. He was never really with us - always lost in his own thoughts. I knew I would not let my children repeat 'without choice' the same hardships I endured. I would support them through their school, stick to them like a prairie wood tick until they were adults on their own. The toughest times being highschool. They struggled and put up with my strict expectations - 'avoid the alcohol and drug scene atleast until you pass your teens'. Two have made it through their teens with a bit of life bruising from funerals of young friends and understanding of consequence. I kept a job for short periods of time, but always left to put family fires out. I had no outside support from family or friends. They believed I was just wasting my time, just send them out there and let them learn. This is half true. The other part of the story is if you don't give them the support and tools to deal with the decisions today they are easily pulled into situations. I figured well if they choose that live they choose it. But until they are on their own I am going to be here to give them the knowledge o f a life worth fighting for, a choice. When they are on their own they cannot use the excuse "i didn't know".
My daughter asked me after a day of school, 'mom are we poor?' Ofcourse I gave her the version that basically says 'as long as we have each other we are the richest and luckiest people in the world'. I believe this to be true but this only survives for so long. If I don't find a way out. another generation will be looking for answers that I couldn't figure out. Starvation.

Well so far I have been ranting.
Reality:

1.Money in pocket - $0

2.What we had for supper:

~Creative Casserole (Basically put anything left in the fridge or cupboard onto a plate with some baked biscuits made of flour/baking powder/water.

Baked Biscuits
Bacon
Five Sausages
Water

It's amazing how children and teenagers can sit with you and enjoy a meal like this. My son came home with a bottle of pop and shared it three ways. My daughter is getting an academic award. We are getting the vehicle fixed tomorrow, flat tire slashed by some back alley rats and unregistered without insurance. Dimes, nickels and loads of pennies in a backpack to take to the bank for my daughter. It is her end of the school year dinner with friends. No new clothes for two years but we did splurge with forty dollars at the second hand store. Name brands too. Nothing wrong with that. We just have to make it out of this whole poverty reality thing.
Which brings me to the purpose of this blog 'stepping outa this reality'.

This is my first post. I hope to write more tonite. I am putting together a plan. Just a step at a time. If anyone happens by this corner of the web world leave me a comment or offer ideas to help me and my family step outa poverty.