What an incredible weekend! Dinner with my husband on Friday night, followed by a movie (Moana) with our kids and grandkids – a first for newly four Fatima. Then another birthday on Sunday for our now fourteen-year-old granddaughter, as well as a lunch and round of cards with friends.
I have done more in a weekend than in all of last year. Exhausted and full of joy.
Met a bear who proclaimed himself to be a man;
knew the instant I spotted him – lumbering
gait approaching – that he was an animal,
feared for my safety, would have retreated
stayed at my mother’s side – sheltered in
familiarity – were I not so fixated on his
blatant woundedness. Sympathy blinding
sensibility, i listened, hypnotized
by the whiteness of his exposed skin –
wanted to believe the veracity of his
tales of conversion – could visualize
him sitting in church, imagine the
horror of the congregants melting,
as I was, into acceptance, drinking
in his words, hearts soaring at his
professed abstinence from sins
of the flesh; none of immune to
fairy-tale endings; faith above all.
Left the sanctity of mother’s fold;
followed him to his wooded lair;
read humility into his minimalist
housing, swept away his cobwebs
and my dreams, determined to
find fulfillment in domesticity.
The forest has it own story to tell –
nature does not lie – a beast does not
its essence forget, in time his true
temperament emerged, and I, lost
withered into a crumpled ball,
a wisp of a character, weakened,
disheartened; could not bend
myself to become either bear
nor Goldilocks; could not tame
his insatiable grumblings nor
abide long winters confined;
discovered too late the folly
of my girlish fantasies, learned
that sympathy did not beget love,
and denying instincts did not alter
the fact that a bear is not a man.
(Poem first appeared here April 2016. Couldn’t resist the accompanying image – photoshopped by yours truly)
Wolf moon finds me
hungering… no
I am not a wolf
but I am starved
in this month of storms
snow blocking doors
temperatures dropping
Temperatures rising
flames of creativity
steaming panes
the season is wrought
belly-aching crave
I am wolf, howling
hoping the moon finds me.
(A bit of fun with wordplay – turning an idea upside down- this poem originally appeared January, 2021. Image my own)
We’ll be celebrating Christmas with the family today. No matter what your beliefs or tradition, let me take this moment to wish you all the best of the season. 
May your hearts be full, and may peace find you. 
VJ
Rest. Nap as often as you need;
life can be exhausting – store up.
Cry. Let your feelings be known –
your voice is your saving grace.
Joy is a whole body experience;
immerse yourself in total delight.
Hold on to those who love you;
your survival depends on them.
See the world through new ideas;
you never know what thrills await.
Listen intently when others speak;
they will be your captive audience.
Imitate other. Practice until you
have found your own expression.
(Image mine)
Trust the process, living fully
in each moment. Be present.
Honour the miracle of existence;
embrace the blessing that is you!
(Lessons from a Newborn first appeared here June, 2016. Image my own)
Quarrel started
over his choice
of reading material
She couldn’t compete
with centrefold perfection
but held her tongue
Afraid she wouldn’t win;
defended her innocence
when magazines disappeared
Sleepwalking doesn’t count
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
I called you
that one time
poured my heart out
such despair
I called you.
You weren’t there.
Left a message –
garbled words
rushed to beat
inevitable beep.
Regret immediate
then panic
ineradicable
the outpouring
of a lonely heart
fantasizing.
I called you.
You didn’t answer.
You never called back.
Thank you for that.
(I found this poem on my other blog, and have given it a new title. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 