I usually record the first words that come to mind when I wake up in the morning. Most of the time they don't make sense, but sometimes they are like insightful.

This morning, however, I was left baffled with what first came to my mind. Care to guess? Well, sorry, let me save you the trouble. First thought in my mind this morning was: The Periodic Table. Yup. That one, The Periodic Table of Elements. And I have no clue as to why. Was I dreaming about all things science? Is the neck and back spasm I'm still suffering due to some element on this table? Is my body hinting that it is in need of something I'll find only there? Will my children love science as much as I did? Should I go back to school? Your guess is as good as mine.

So, I go about my morning routine, coffee, get the kids ready and off to school, back home, more coffee... and I get online to go through my email. Reply to a post, visit her site, and I'm incredibly distracted, suddenly I feel the urge to follow a link at her site, a link which reads "Meet a Sweet Yogini", I think to myself 'nice, yoga, if only this spasm would let loose, my mind, body and spirit could use some yoga today'... and I'm left baffled, again. Where did I land as my second blog for today? Here's a screenshot -because you wouldn't believe me if I told you.

The table is totally interactive... and on her blog home page. Don't ask. Go see for yourself: The Lizzie Times.

Is the Universe trying to tell me something?

From inside my studio, I could hear the wind blowing, strongly, willfully, pressing against the house, exerting pressure against the windows. I glance out, and I see the trees swaying wildly, so I decided to step out to see what the fuss was all about.



The wind almost swept me off my feet. It wasn't blowing, it was roaring. Almost as astounding as the force of the wind -which immediately brought to mind images of our hurricane season of 2004- was the startling sky. Covered with clouds moving rapidly, the hues up above rendered quite an eerie canvas. It was, in a word, breathtaking.

I believe I've emailed all of you in reply to your comments regarding the post below. And to those of you who emailed, I know that there must be more words out there to precisely express my appreciation, I just can't think of enough of them right now.

To all of you, thanks for taking the time to share encouraging words, from the bottom of my heart. It's people like you who promote healing, aid in creating awareness, and you become part of that dynamic energy behind all small acts of courage.

Thanks, again.

These past few days have been really testing, and much too painful. To say it simply, it is haunting. I’m referring to the discussion found here, here and here, pertaining to the use and misuse of the word rape, and the effects the misuse of this word has on those who have suffered such a horrendous act. So, in taking an assertive step, and in moving forward, I’m posting this. (Long entry below.)

Last month, I traveled home to see my sick grandma, and was lucky enough to see her alive, if only for a few hours. During my stay with my parents, my mother and I were in constant conversation; we had a world of catching up to do. After all, it’s not the same speaking on the phone over thousands of miles than enjoying conversation in person.

Among the many things we spoke about, my mother related a story to me regarding a victim of rape. I listened intently, and empathized with the young woman in the story. I cried with my mom as she worked through her own feelings, just imagining what it must have been like for this young woman. I nodded in confirmation as mom continued expressing her outside view of how this person is dealing with the after effects. As I began speaking, I was immediately struck with shock at the words I was about to say –but didn’t. I was about to speak about how I understood -completely- and relate the story of another young girl that was a victim of rape, and what her experience of life has been after that. The thing is, I have NEVER told my parents this story –it is my story. To this day, they do not know I am a victim of rape.

It is incredibly hard and painful to write this, so please bear with me if at any time I do sound incoherent and make no sense. I have been open and shared my story with others, but it has always face to face. There have been two online exceptions: 1. Lori, who has been my best friend for over six years (a friendship which began online and the one person I can't wait to go visit in Canada), and 2. when I used to write for the online magazine, BellaOnline.com. Some of you within the blogging community that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting personally may know; most my friends are aware of what I have been through.

I’ve been able to help guide others in a direction where they could get the help they needed. I’ve driven them to the emergency room, and even accompanied others to file the report. Sometimes I’m surprised that I can do this, yet I was not able to do it for myself. Perhaps that is why I do it, that in some way, by helping them, I’m able to help heal a little bit of myself?

I thought I was OK – not recovered, not perfect, but dealing, so in a sense OK. I felt so comfortable speaking about it that I almost told my mom, in a somewhat casual but intense conversation! It makes me shudder to recall that. So there has been healing. However, I recognize that I’m not OK, that this affects me still, some days more than others. I also recognize that inevitably there will always be something or someone that will trigger emotions that will be hard to work through, that will make me crumble. The post and comments that followed at SC&A has been one of those instances. I don’t believe I have ever ‘spoken’ online about it, not this way, in a somewhat open forum as a blog can be, and that is perhaps what caught me off guard (because that is how most of us live the rest of our lives- guarded). In speaking up online, I’ve cast myself into a somewhat unfamiliar territory. I recognize that this has triggered the need for healing in yet another level, and I accept. I also grateful to these people, because they are helping me along the way, and helping create an awareness: Square1, MaxedOutMama, SC&A.

I bear a scar as a victim of rape. Unlike other scars, this one will remain with me for the rest of my life. Rape scars a person in all levels: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. I will always need to tend to my scar. But because I bear this scar, I also have a responsibility: I will continue to tell my story, break the silence, help in creating awareness, and help others do the same.

Yes, I am a victim of rape. But I am also a survivor.

Ok, here’s a call out to anyone willing to share advice.

There comes a time in our lives, as we grow up, when we are faced with such sad, pathetic, hurtful things such as HATE.

Today was such a day for my 10 year old son. As his mom, there’s plenty I can say to help, but since most of us have suffered through such an experience at least once in our lifetime, I figure I’d ask for your input. Sometimes a young boy needs encouraging thoughts from others –and I believe this is one of those times.

I don’t want the “well, she’s mom, of course she’s going to say this or that…”> idea to linger much inside my young man’s head.

What really ticks me off is, for a teacher to read the note out loud and have nothing to say in regards to hate… what purpose does that serve? I mean, really? Was she more concerned about the box and the willingness of the kids to express their feelings in a future occasion had she said something?

Anyway, I'm being vague here. Go read BlogBoy’s post. He hasn’t posted anything since December, mostly because he's been so busy with homework, but for him to come home, and head straight to the computer to blog about it, well, that’s kind of saying something right there.

Then again, maybe not.

I've got a new poem up. Go read Indigo Dreams at Museful.

Posted a picture earlier today, one I shot when I began my Calla Lily studies, but never got around to posting it. Not sure why, since it's one of my favorites. You can check it out at Beyond Focus.

Nothing like a full body massage at 7am. You should have one, too. I'm usually giving massages, so it's very nice to be on the receiving end once in a while. I worked through a world of feelings and emotions, which had tied my neck and back into one big, giant knot. Having a massage at the perfect time is priceless.

Color and associations in today's massage and energy balance:

• red: anger; have I been scorched by traumatic expriences? am I masking pain?
• black: loss; what do I feel or recognize is missing in my life?
• blue: fear; what am I trying to run away from? what am I fighting?

In Chi, both red and blue are Yin; meridians of heart and kidneys respectively, which sure enough were the ones that needed balancing. Now I’m able to move my head side to side, and my back doesn’t hurt as it did.

The body never lies. It has a universal language, and when it’s got something to say, make no mistake, it’s going to come right out and say it. And if you don’t pay attention it will immobilize you, until you take action.

Enjoyed my morning coffee and am back home, ready to step outside. I'm all set up, ready to paint, knowing I still have the whole day ahead of me. I knowing that it’s ok to feel the way I sometimes do; I must be patient, accepting and understanding with myself, and work my way through it. Today is a beautiful day, I’m relaxed right now, and that is a wonderful feeling. I hope you have a wonderful day as well.

Edited: If you know me, you know I do not believe in coincidences. The colors worked with today match the ones I've been working with in another painting, which spun a little poem I posted last night at Museful, titled Self.

Sharing this clip of one of the things I'm working on at the moment. I know it's not showing much, but it's not finished, and I don't want to give it all away right now. Feel free to throw any first words or thoughts that come to mind. I'm not sharing the title of this one yet because I don't want to create any associations in your mind as to what it is. I am, however, very interested in seeing what it evokes in you.

The day is beautiful, and I feel good. I'm hoping all of you are doing well. Thanks to those of you who brought much needed words to me, some that made me cry as I hadn't done yet and needed to, and others that made me laugh so hard it seemed like I'd split at the seams. I had not laughed like that since last year.

It was awesome.

I return from running some errands and browsing books at Barnes & Noble just in time to pick up my kids from school. I'm feeling kind of Zen at the moment, and I'd love to keep the serene and peaceful mood going. It's a welcome change from how busy it's been up in my head. So upstairs I go, turn on the computer, and pop an Atmospheres CD into my drive. My daughter, who's followed me upstairs, glances at my choice, and immediately says, "No Mom, not that one, put the one with the babbling brook!"

No, it's not a typo, you read it right -she said babbling brook. Not quite as serene as my choice seemed, now is it? I mean, I can relax to the sound of ocean waves, a forest rainfall, and yes, maybe even a bubbly brook. Babbling? I mean, where does she get this stuff from? Perhaps her teacher has used the word to describe her performance during the day? I've already been told she's quite talkative, not that I needed to be alerted to that fact. After all, she takes after her mother. In any case, with my pretty princess' continuous chatting, I believe that babbling is the most fitting adjective in regards to how she's been behaving since yesterday. I swear to you, she even talks in her sleep.

Guess I wasn't the only one feeling Zen.

When I woke this morning, I did have a reason for quiet. Today, I was seeking solitude.

A month to the day I lost my Grandma, my heart and mind are still working around some very raw emotions (yes, you read that right, I said around). Some so strong they made me feel like I wanted to run away. I needed quiet from the mess in my head. As I entered a short intermission of silence, I was moved to see that the very thoughts lingering inside my head were the ones I was most eagerly trying to escape. And that hurt.

Usually, I meet them head on, I work through them; I deal, in the best way I know how. True to form, I walked upstairs, pulled out a new canvas, and stared blankly at its bare skin. From within me, no colors or shapes, thoughts or emotions would come forth. It’s like writer’s block, only worse, because it takes hold of all my senses.

So, to break the pattern, I decided to go out in search for reference material, an outside source, something fresh and new, to serve as inspiration for my work. Slipping my camera around my neck, I stepped out for my Starbucks ritual, with a mission to catalog events from exciting to mundane -anything, really- that would create a spark and send me charging into a new, perhaps different piece of work, and obviously, keep my mind busy.

As events would have it, my car broke down shortly after leaving Starbucks. Yes, color me stranded on Hwy 50, and no, I did not take a picture my car, or a self-portrait of my rotten mood at the time, or the handsome devil that stopped to help. Not that he could, but hey, eye candy –who can say no to that? Anyway, as soon as the car’s engine turned, I headed home. A reason for quiet? Hardly.

However, energy follows intention. I’m not a believer of coincidence. I set out for something this morning, and sure enough, I found it right where I had started off, at home and, within me.

All I had to do is listen.

__________
Go check my post at Metroblogging Orlando, regarding the upcoming art exhibition at sixspace that will feature Laura Mosquera’s Beauty in the Breakdown. The artist has a piece titled A Reason For Quiet, which was very much on the same wavelength as to how I started my day, and the story speaks to something still tender in my heart. I used its title as the title for this post.

I had forgotten to post an update on our latest DIY project. So, here it is. All done, and kitchen all cleaned up. I think I cleaned it compulsively this week. Yes, I continue to embrace my inner Monk.

My day started kinda blue, which me trying to escape my thoughts. Didn't help that I was thinking about my grandma, or the choice in music playing on my favorite music channel. I didn't want to cry, because it still feels like if I start, I won't be able to stop. So, what do I resort to when I want to avoid thinking? Cleaning. I cleaned everything, right until I was left without anything else to clean.

Next tactic: get online, get busy. It's not like I can concentrate on painting when I'm feeling like this. I dive right into my email, where my good friend Deb has emailed me a Hallmark card. How sweet of her; the thought makes me smile. I remember how much we talked when she spent the week at my house with her two beautiful babies while her husband was out of town. A lot of work, with two babies and two kids at home, but we had a great time.

Perhaps she sensed I was feeling sad? Has it happened to you, that sometimes you’re thinking of someone, of wanting to speak with that person, or wondering how they are, then the phone rings, and it’s that person? Well, we've always been able to communicate in special ways like that, sometimes even sharing the same dream. Anyway, since my cell phone isn’t working, she emailed me.

I’ve decided to share the card with you, because it’s quite a puzzle. The sentiment of the card is to express her condolences for the loss of my grandma, yet at the same time, she’s thanking me for being there for her when she was the one in need of a good friend. She managed to make me smile and cry, for two different things, all with the same e-card.

There are few places where I can feel like I'm at home. Starbucks is at the top of that list, followed by B&N and Target which -stay with me- both feature a Starbucks inside! Anyway, I just walk in, and they start preparing my drink. Venti Soy White Mocha, with whipped cream. They don't even ask for my name as they write "Zee" on the cup. I have always been pleased with my visit. However, we don't "live in Perfect", right? It was bound to happen, of course, one time or another.

Today, Starbucks did not have my pound of Lightnote, which is one of my favorite blends. It makes my spirit sing, just like in the picture. It's hard to find anything positive about not getting my coffee, but seeing as how my mom taught me to always look at the bright side, I looked around noticed the Aged Sumatra Lot 523. I try it. It's rich and bold, and oh so yummy! So I bought it. Bonus? They are still donating $2 to the help relief efforts due to the tsunami. Which means, I'm still helping! Somehow that makes my coffee taste even better. :o)

But I wasn't the only one to suffer a slight coffee mishap today. Jen did too, although there should be a law against wasting coffee like that, and I hope she wasn't brewing Starbucks. :oP

The servers where I host were down, and it took, along with it, all entries and comments from Feb 2nd - to date. My host restored from their backups, which only covers till the 2nd- and no, I didn't back up this past week.

Sucks.

It's like 'access denied' to some of my own memories.

I put another picture up at Beyond Focus: Open.

Well this is definitely interesting! Go play at Heroine Girl's Blogger Auction!

How is it that my little girl can decorate her breakfast in such a cheerful way, even when she is physically feeling miserable, fighting to break a fever, and battling a horrible bout of brochitis? Who cares if all she ate was the cherries and the grapes?

Sometimes, it's about the lessons our children teach us. I want to start my days -regardless of how I feel in body, mind and spirit- in the same manner as my daughter does. Some days I wish I could be more like her... I want to have such an outlook upon the wake of every day.