tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36425283608633908512024-03-05T21:40:13.930-05:00Laughing at the MoonStruggling against the tides
of life alone is tough.
Isn't it nice to have
a friend in the darkness
to make you laugh?Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.comBlogger365125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-17391127508376753992011-04-03T12:48:00.000-04:002011-04-03T12:48:12.057-04:00CLEARANCE: EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That's right. My site is moving. I have a brand, spankin' new site. All pretty. With it's very own domain!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Please update your bookmarks and feeds to: <a href="http://www.nean-laughingatthemoon.com/">http://www.nean-laughingatthemoon.com/</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks for reading and sharing.</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-9830559045399498692011-04-02T17:57:00.000-04:002011-04-02T17:57:40.842-04:00Mirrored<div style="text-align: center;">when I looked back<br />
I saw her </div><div style="text-align: center;">there</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">crooked<br />
smiles<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">spreading </div><div style="text-align: center;">happiness</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">everywhere</div><div style="text-align: center;">... except her eyes --</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I kinda liked her ...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I realized then</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">... I kinda liked her</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">-- except her eyes ...</div><div style="text-align: center;">everywhere</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">happiness</div><div style="text-align: center;">spreading</div><div style="text-align: center;">smiles<br />
<br />
crooked</div><div style="text-align: center;">there<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I saw her</div><div style="text-align: center;">when I looked back</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-28843884928782552382011-04-01T08:46:00.000-04:002011-04-01T08:46:15.569-04:00Ordering In<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">stupid fortune reads</div><div style="text-align: center;">"never eat the yellow snow;</div><div style="text-align: center;">uncooked prawn okay"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-56398609877472357692011-03-28T08:32:00.001-04:002011-03-28T08:34:16.801-04:00Melancholic ReliefI've been toying with a phrase for the past couple weeks. Something of a "melancholic relief" has settled on me. I've been really struggling with several major pieces of who I am since the year began. Several things in my life have changed and several more are yet to change.<br />
<br />
I've come to some important conclusions in the past couple weeks. These decisions are pulling me into a place of sadness for the loss of what was, but also a peace because decisions that haven't been easy are finally being made in a way that I know is best for me and my family.<br />
<br />
Change is good, right? Everyone says that, but when the change requires a complete rearrangement of priorities and even things you have believed your whole life... well, it just makes the change all the more difficult to deal with - even when you know it's a necessary step in the journey to become who you are supposed to be.<br />
<br />
So, it's melancholy. I look at what I'm losing, knowing I may never have it again - at least not in the same way. But it's relief. It's best for me and my immediate family. It's necessary. It's part of who I am inside and who I need to become. And as sad and scary as it is, I know it's right.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-91205411197831361912011-03-16T20:09:00.016-04:002011-03-16T20:15:23.822-04:00Shapes Like Stars<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Across the universe...</div>...in this galaxy...<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">...these little pieces burn</div><br />
shooting light<br />
that blinds the road<br />
<br />
and takes away our view<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">...if we could only see</div><div style="text-align: right;">this thing we are</div><br />
and chart this course<br />
above<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">we'd plot our path...</div>...to guide us home...<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">...avoiding edges</div><div style="text-align: right;">cutting paths</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">in sharply twisted turns</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-86616249890041949442011-03-11T14:59:00.000-05:002011-03-11T14:59:22.678-05:00Flash Fiction Friday: "A Whole Life in One Day"They barely knew each other, even after watching each other from afar for years.<br />
<br />
And now, he studied her. Up close. Personal. From only inches away. One day, by chance, had brought them here.<br />
<br />
His eyes detailed the memory he'd replay later - and for years to come. Her cheeks, flushed from the chill of the air and something else - something infinitely more permanent. Her hair, softly silhouetted in the glow of the streetlight behind her. Her lashes brightly glistening in errant flakes of snow.<br />
<br />
"When I look at you, I see forever."<br />
<br />
He watched his whispered words wrap around her, his warm breath causing a shivered smile to tease her face and his heart, embracing them both in eternity.<br />
<br />
He pulled her close and touched his lips to hers. In one second, he knew his life was held inside this day.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-78152075528490707042011-03-10T20:32:00.000-05:002011-03-10T20:32:43.991-05:00DownpourThe drops shatter silence,<br />
and maybe even glass,<br />
pounding against the pane.<br />
As she walks,<br />
unhurried as it falls,<br />
in puddle-soaked glistening soles.<br />
Rivulets shiver<br />
and trickle away<br />
from the patterns relieved by her heels.<br />
And somewhere amidst<br />
the myriad drops,<br />
one solitary tear gains weight.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-23091703257921871012011-03-10T18:24:00.000-05:002011-03-10T18:24:06.634-05:00On My TermsI took<br />
the longest <br />
most difficult <br />
most painful<br />
way to get<br />
here. <br />
<br />
You better believe <br />
I'll fight <br />
for the right<br />
to stay.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-58816097018726972612011-03-09T14:37:00.000-05:002011-03-09T14:37:42.056-05:00In SpiteDear Expectations,<br />
<br />
You totally suck at this love stuff. You're always getting in the way, and you always ruin stuff that's beautiful. You have no respect for spontaneity or romance, forcing all these obligations on me. I'm just tired of trying to keep up with you, and I think it's just time to be... me.<br />
<br />
I have chosen to love in spite of you.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
NeanNeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-41556101260369728212011-03-07T15:56:00.000-05:002011-03-07T15:56:43.260-05:00Ice Cream and Power of AttorneyToday I realized I'm "<b><i>old</i></b>." Now I realize that probably half my readership is older than I am, so don't freak out on me. Just go with it.<br />
<br />
When I was my son's age, I was in awe of the fact that my parents were older than 30. I couldn't imagine ever being that old. They were so big and they knew so much. They never had any problems. They didn't have to ask permission to go anywhere or do anything they wanted to. They could eat ice cream whenever they wanted - even after I went to bed. Yes, I did sneak downstairs once in a while and catch you, Mom and Dad.<br />
<br />
I could go into how I've grown up, had my own kids, and have gained perspective on and respect for my parents in ways I never could have as a child. And yes, I confess, I too eat ice cream after my kids go to bed... and yes, it is so that I don't have to share it with them - mom's prerogative. But, that's not the point of this post.<br />
<br />
Point is, I've watched my father take care of his mother for the past several years. He sat through various doctor visits with her: paying attention, asking questions, taking notes, and communicating how Gramma was doing to all of the rest of us. He was the oldest child and power of attorney, and had the distinct "privilege" to watch his mother's health decline right in front of him.<br />
<br />
So this morning, my mom asked me to take her to the eye doctor. Now, it had nothing to do with me being POA and everything to do with the fact that she wasn't able to drive home because they had to dilate her eyes. It was an odd feeling though. I sat and listened to the doctor explaining what was going on with her, and I was reminded of the fact that I have all that to look forward to: the symptoms, the meds, the tests, etc.<br />
<br />
And it better be years (and hopefully a couple decades) before I have to serve as Power of Attorney for either of my parents. They're not "<b><i>that</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> <i><b>old</b></i>." But they took care of me, and someday I'll take care of them (as I was reminded by my parents last night when we had dinner for Dad's birthday).</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">But, time marches on. And sometimes it just hits me. Nothing ever stays the same... except for the ice cream.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-72955944845037385562011-02-23T15:44:00.000-05:002011-02-23T15:44:38.065-05:00And Sometimes It Works...<div><div><br />
</div><div>Every once in a while I hit a block. Something where I need to write. I feel the burn of something deep inside, begging for the light of the computer screen. And sometimes I don't know where to start. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So there's a game I created (or stole from somewhere ~ I truly couldn't tell you which), where I gather random words and phrases from people all over Twitter and Facebook and put them into some crazy semblance of a poem. Sometimes, it's utterly ridiculous. And sometimes it actually comes out with something remotely... semi-profound? You can decide which and tell me in the comments, if you wanna. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I have linked the random words or phrases I've gathered to their originators, just for the sake of your curiosity and my faulty memory when I come back to this later and read it. Thanks to all who participated. It's fun and helps get the creativity flowing again.</div><div><br />
</div><blockquote><b><i><a href="https://twitter.com/beckami">Antidisestablishmentarianism</a></i></b></blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1209964658">as he stepped through </a></blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1209964658">the hole in the air </a></blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=727767498">he was Death</a></blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1209964634">watching my dreams </a></blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1209964634">replay against a pitch </a></blockquote><blockquote><a href="https://twitter.com/Shorty_J">black sky</a></blockquote></div><blockquote>of <a href="https://twitter.com/ktdeeds">psychobabble</a></blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><div><blockquote>I <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1209964626">prop me up </a></blockquote><blockquote><a href="https://twitter.com/deuscain">beside the juke box</a>,</blockquote></div><blockquote>and begin to stare him down</blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote>pondering the <a href="https://twitter.com/reboloke">enchantment</a></blockquote><blockquote>of a not-so-<a href="https://twitter.com/organeiser">sexy fart</a></blockquote><blockquote>caused, </blockquote><blockquote>of course,</blockquote><blockquote>by this morning's breakfast:</blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote>one <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=501114334">free-range</a> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/smola04">egg</a>,</blockquote><blockquote>rye toast</blockquote><blockquote>and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001282632597">bacon</a> ~</blockquote><blockquote>crisp</blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote>my perception <a href="https://twitter.com/thatfedoraguy">altered</a></blockquote><blockquote>on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/glennda.tingle">splendiferous</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/thatfedoraguy">altar</a></blockquote><blockquote>of <a href="https://twitter.com/paulwhotweets">scrumschulescent</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/beckami">ennui</a></blockquote><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote>he shakes his head,</blockquote><blockquote>knowing he's beaten by</blockquote><blockquote>the nonchalance </blockquote><blockquote>I wield</blockquote><div><blockquote><br />
</blockquote><blockquote><a href="http://www.facebook.com/?sk=messages&tid=1537789097546">it covers me,</a></blockquote><blockquote>begins to <a href="http://www.twitter.com/beckywoodh">satisfy</a>, </blockquote></div><blockquote>as I wake again</blockquote><blockquote>to fight </blockquote><blockquote>another day</blockquote><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-29995170848401476632011-02-12T19:15:00.000-05:002011-02-12T19:15:58.115-05:00Puzzledshe reconnects<br />
as she's done before<br />
possibly millions of times<br />
<br />
each time pieces fit again<br />
exactly the way<br />
they always have<br />
<br />
it's her world now<br />
where she stands alone<br />
redundantly seeking a match<br />
<br />
I sit and watch<br />
this profound simplicity<br />
the certainty in the same<br />
<br />
then a sudden remembrance<br />
of the one left behind<br />
a flick of a hand over shoulder<br />
<br />
not even stopping<br />
or turning around<br />
a simple and quiet, "Hi, Mom."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WDlDWyaUCIFpue5oJZGtPJWO2SwFimscE4XMbW_K60dW1935-J-C7HlQTDiBd5VgMivecehAawLTG54QjqFSGlafeM9qORkdAchq5s8JEMvNumTjlrzKEe-XzMhQxiLh1eKo8_IgTjA/s1600/2011-02-12+Zoe+Puzzle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WDlDWyaUCIFpue5oJZGtPJWO2SwFimscE4XMbW_K60dW1935-J-C7HlQTDiBd5VgMivecehAawLTG54QjqFSGlafeM9qORkdAchq5s8JEMvNumTjlrzKEe-XzMhQxiLh1eKo8_IgTjA/s320/2011-02-12+Zoe+Puzzle.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-16245023778788509882011-02-04T15:35:00.000-05:002011-02-04T15:35:39.937-05:00Caught in the Middle<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">here <b>i</b> stay</div><div style="text-align: center;">behind a<b>n</b>d before</div><div style="text-align: center;">awakening your <b>s</b>oul for this crime</div><div style="text-align: center;">of what they call <b>i</b>ntuitive passions</div><div style="text-align: center;">in anger, pain, <b>d</b>esires, intrigue</div><div style="text-align: center;">as we learn to s<b>e</b>e loves through</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">together tw<b>o</b> make one</div><div style="text-align: center;">lovers now <b>f</b>rom friends</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">don’t know wh<b>y</b>, or even how</div><div style="text-align: center;">you ever w<b>o</b>n this right</div><div style="text-align: center;">to entwine yo<b>u</b>r soul in mine</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-30764349181699647952011-01-23T11:38:00.000-05:002011-01-23T11:38:56.158-05:00Fourteen Ten Tendeathly acts result in life<br />
unbidden<br />
uncontrolled<br />
blossoming in uncertain promises<br />
delicate<br />
delayed<br />
<br />
to touch the sheers<br />
to fraying threads<br />
comes dread<br />
indecision<br />
resolution<br />
hesitation<br />
<br />
of what brings forgetting<br />
of all you are<br />
and hatred fills the heart<br />
<br />
resignation pales the flow<br />
as darkness drips like tears<br />
to drown in kindness<br />
merciful silence<br />
a new beginning's end<br />
<br />
but again it begins<br />
this cycle we know<br />
where life results in deathNeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-32315082235609895572011-01-18T10:27:00.000-05:002011-01-18T10:27:52.968-05:00Smile After Play<div style="text-align: left;">Apparently, my love of words is contagious and I tend to call out the inner poets in others. As a passionate writer, poet, and editor (and former writing teacher), my friends occasionally find themselves caught up in the poetic frenzy in which I live and feel the need to try it out for themselves. When this happens, and the words spill onto the page (or computer screen), I encourage and share as I'm given freedom to do so. Please make comments and share the love for our fellow guest poets!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Today's guest poet is <a href="http://www.facebook.com/sara.otero.eiser">Sara Eiser</a>. I met Sara through <a href="http://twitter.com/smola04">Twitter</a>, and we have become good friends. She considers herself to be a non-fiction writer, but has recently been flirting with fiction and playing with poetry. Her passion for writing normally lies in the areas of social justice and equality. Her blog, <a href="http://thecoveredwagon.wordpress.com/">The Covered Wagon</a>, talks about her experiences being Jewish in a largely Christian area and her journey into becoming a doula, midwife, and "lactivist" out of her passion for women's health and her own pregnancy/birth experiences.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>(Untitled 1)</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">they smile after playing</div><div style="text-align: center;">take what they need</div><div style="text-align: center;">want less</div><div style="text-align: center;">have coffee</div><div style="text-align: center;">and grow from the past</div><div style="text-align: center;">is it not why we love?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><i>(Untitled 2)</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I am not surrendering to my brain</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have nothing to give</div><div style="text-align: left;">when I can only see blackness</div><div style="text-align: left;">my head full of horrible focus</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">today let me fail you</div><div style="text-align: left;">let my fire get cold as death</div><div style="text-align: left;">inhale the ocean</div><div style="text-align: left;">suffocate on the future</div><div style="text-align: left;">and vanish</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">~~~~~~~</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm more than happy to share beauty and passion with the world. </i><i>If you are interested in sharing poetry or short fiction here, please comment below. (All comments are monitored before posting, so your request will be privately emailed to me.)</i></div></div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-82138234331041986922011-01-15T09:24:00.000-05:002011-01-15T09:24:56.936-05:00Meltingwalls ...<br />
the color of tears<br />
melt slowly to nothing<br />
like ice <br />
cream drips<br />
on a hot summer day<br />
<br />
from one touch of the tongue<br />
to that sweet burning gaze<br />
unfreezing <br />
these walls<br />
dissolved into tears<br />
<br />
making me savor<br />
frozen need<br />
you create<br />
sparkling in eyes<br />
that behind these walls<br />
… waitNeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-54635461901964834542011-01-13T17:10:00.000-05:002011-01-13T17:10:02.506-05:00StrangerShe knew their secrets<br />
could name each one<br />
as they laughed<br />
and made their "jokes"<br />
not once realizing<br />
that truth would astound<br />
and the things they held close<br />
and hid under the skin<br />
weren't fiction<br />
or so far awayNeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-70893901445252910862011-01-10T18:20:00.000-05:002011-01-10T18:20:22.103-05:00Where the Road LeadsI'm on a journey and I can't see the end. I mean, I don't even know where I'm going, to be honest. But it's a bit like a road trip: I've piled into the car with no real defined destination, as little stuff possible, and some amazing friends, knowing there will be stops along the way. There will be bumps in the road, detours to be made, and even random break downs. We'll take unexpected hikes with a gas can because we were too busy enjoying each others' company to pay attention to the gauge.<br />
<br />
But we'll also see things we wouldn't have if we'd stayed at home in our comfort zones, instead of taking the risk and seeking this adventure of life together. We'll learn more about one another than we need to know and see each other at our worst. There's no need for make-up, fancy clothes, or any sort of facade on a road trip. There will be days we don't know when we'll shower next, what we'll find for our next meal, or where we'll sleep that night.<br />
<br />
But it's good. It's growth. It's learning about ourselves and trusting one another to help us survive this trip even if we don't know where we're headed. We can get out the maps and guidebooks or consult the GPS to find out where others have been before us. We can learn from their experiences and enjoy their pictures and stories, but their journey is not ours. We have to find our own way. And we have to do it ourselves, learning with our companions along the way, finding treasures that are distinctly ours to discover.<br />
<br />
I love this road trip, even if I don't know where it ends. It's fun and it's exciting. To those of you who've hopped in the car with me and have decided to ride off into the unknown, thank you. This is an adventure that will change us. And I'm happy knowing I'll never be the same and my life has been worth living, because of my journey with you.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-9409920848501475352011-01-03T18:20:00.001-05:002011-01-03T18:27:44.397-05:00MosaicWhat you see<br />
<div>is the intricate<br />
<div>the thousands of details<br />
<div>the tiny stones within</div><div>you engage in the trivia</div><div>of type, origin and history</div><div>cut, color, and value</div><div>and the reason that all of it matters</div><div><br />
</div><div>What we see</div><div>is abstract</div><div>and what brings it together</div><div>the beauty this picture creates</div><div>through interplay of parts</div><div>and of pieces entwined<br />
into one unified whole</div><div><br />
</div><div>but without each other</div><div>your view would be pointless</div><div>rendering single stones meaningless</div><div>and ours left incomplete</div><div>with holes in the whole</div><div>of the unfinished art<br />
that we see</div><div><br />
so understanding<br />
acceptance<br />
and the allowance of us<br />
draw essentials together<br />
to help us become<br />
perfect balance of</div><div>yin and yang</div><div><br />
</div><div><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.truthseekerart.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/webassets/TheSacredGame-web.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="233" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.truthseekerart.com/catalog/i46.html</td></tr>
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</div></div></div></div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-84875581565548604712011-01-01T14:04:00.000-05:002011-01-01T14:04:18.924-05:00Spare Changelike pennies in a jar<br />
I cherish you in my life<br />
<br />
for when you go<br />
this still belongs<br />
something you gave<br />
something that's mine<br />
<br />
to those outside us<br />
seen as little more<br />
than copper in the street<br />
underfoot unnoticed<br />
ignored in change<br />
<br />
but this is mine<br />
these golden sparks<br />
seen and chosen<br />
consciously held<br />
collected and kept<br />
<br />
and if you leave<br />
you still add to me<br />
increasing the worth<br />
my life collects<br />
as I lose only<br />
an equal part to you<br />
something so small to me<br />
yet worth millions to youNeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-33896884670187437352010-12-29T18:42:00.000-05:002010-12-29T18:42:31.220-05:00FlirtingIt’s little more than a breeze<br />
a moment on the skin<br />
It’s only a minute<br />
before the flutter sets in<br />
<br />
It’s something you know<br />
a simple look, a glance<br />
Where you finally feel<br />
you can take a chance<br />
<br />
It feels so simple<br />
in the moment you feel<br />
like all that you wanted<br />
becomes less than surreal<br />
<br />
It’s one simple word<br />
a meaningful nod<br />
where eyes burn like fire<br />
to melt the facades<br />
<br />
There’s little about it<br />
that’s less than cliche<br />
but it never seems to matter<br />
because it takes us away.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-17478703042021356842010-12-26T09:49:00.001-05:002010-12-26T18:15:08.693-05:00The Ghosts of Christmas PastI go to, what I would refer to as, a very non-traditional church. We don't have a lot of standing traditions, but one of my favorites is our end-of-the year prayer cards. We fill out 3x5 cards (usually on the last Sunday of the year) with our prayers and hopes for the coming year. They are collected, stored away, and then sent back to us in December of that coming year for reflection.<br />
<br />
The last couple years ... I've been broken and empty. A lot of things had stolen away my hope and I had nothing left. So, these cards became more and more difficult to fill out. When I got my card back this December, it said, "Read, 'A Note to my Future Self" from December 2009." And I remembered the journal entry I'd typed late one night last December. It took me two days to locate it as I didn't remember where I stored it, but I finally found it.<br />
<br />
I want to share it here (at least in part), because I've reclaimed love and hope this year, and I'm ready to let that grow. Thanks to all of those who've started or shared in the healing process. I love you far more than you will ever know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote>December 2009</blockquote><blockquote>Dear "Future" Self~</blockquote><blockquote>I'm doing something a little different this year. I'm not making a list of things I want or hope to see happen in the 2010. </blockquote><blockquote>For my card in 2009, I made a list of relationships that I wanted to see restored. I know what I was thinking last year at this time: That I'd strained so many relationships in 2008 and I was looking for 2009 to be a year of reconciliation and healing of those relationships.</blockquote><blockquote>Funny thing, 2009 was more a year of Reconstruction, but not Reconciliation. And before the reconstruction, apparently, I needed to tear apart all that I knew before to make way for the new. I've been through a year of hell as far as relationships go, and I'm still dealing with the fall~out from that. I read the card for 2009 with a heart that's broken and bleeding. Of those listed relationships, all but one or two (as well as many others) have been strained ~ some to the point of breaking ~ possibly beyond repair. This card is nothing more than a mere reminder of all I've lost over the past year.</blockquote><blockquote>I won't do it for 2010. Not like that at least. I won't ask for anything specific, except to have some healing of my heart this year and to know love more deeply and more fully. Even that feels a bit like tempting fate, though, and I had to hesitate to write it. I'm beaten by 2009. I'm bruised. I'm lonely. I'm tired. I'm confused. I'm hurt. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. But in all of it, I am loved. I know this because, with all the pain this year, came love. Lest I forget it, THAT is the reminder I want to have this time next year.</blockquote><blockquote>So to myself at the close of 2010: know you are loved, even by people who can't say it because of time, space, or just an inability to speak the things they feel. You are loved. You are beautiful. You are better now than you were then, even if you don't feel it.</blockquote><blockquote>Always in Love,</blockquote><blockquote>~Nean</blockquote>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-34759787813712878682010-12-21T04:47:00.006-05:002010-12-21T05:02:12.678-05:00After the Hourin the longest night<br />
fear finally breaks<br />
<br />
opens cautiously to light<br />
<br />
shedding the earth<br />
and the shadow that falls<br />
from past indiscretions<br />
that lie<br />
<br />
in stillness it wakes<br />
brightened slowly in grace<br />
<br />
swallowing darkness<br />
<br />
it waits<br />
<br />
as the world's interference<br />
slips softly away<br />
and the focus of hope<br />
<div style="text-align: auto;">is revealed</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Solstice Blessings on this darkest of nights. </div><div style="text-align: center;">May nothing overshadow your love or your laughter! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.marcymoonstar.com/img_css_scrpts/triple_moon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="68" src="http://www.marcymoonstar.com/img_css_scrpts/triple_moon.gif" width="200" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-48835234234711106902010-12-18T19:12:00.000-05:002010-12-18T19:12:17.773-05:00The Skunk in the MangerI just returned from our first family Christmas dinner without <a href="http://nean-laughingatthemoon.blogspot.com/search?q=gramma">Gramma</a>, which went surprisingly well. With all due respect to Gramma, it was one of the most relaxed dinners we've had in a long time. Perhaps because no one felt the need to be on best behavior for Gramma's sake and we were all our true selves? I don't know why exactly.<br />
<br />
Maybe because we all realize that life and family are precious, made even more so in the past year due to the loss of the one person we all had in common and loved dearly. We used to come to Christmas at Gramma's for her benefit. But this past year, as we all stood around the casket, mourning the loss of one of the most beautiful, feisty, and incredible women I've ever known, the question that I heard over and over from my cousins was "Will we still see you at Christmas?" Funny the things we struggle to hold on to in times of loss.<br />
<br />
And we enjoyed being together today. We spent part of the afternoon reminiscing, sorting through old photos, recapturing moments from our childhood when life was simpler and there were no "family politics" ~ at least none that mattered to us. We took the photos that meant the most to each of us and thanked God for the invention of scanners for the ones we might have fought over.<br />
<br />
No one asked today where the pizza was ~ a long-standing family joke when we would stare at each other over the usual spread of two meats, various vegetable dishes (including Gramma's broccoli salad), and miscellaneous condiments, pickles, olives, rolls, and butter mints. Instead, we had barbecue sandwiches and some of the "usual fare" but we didn't sit in our unassigned usual seats at the table or eat off of actual plates. And somehow we all mingled, rather than separating into the usual two groups of the <a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/dar+williams/the+christians+the+pagans_20036206.html">"Christians" and the "Pagans."</a><br />
<br />
One tradition I did miss today, however, was the skunk in the manger. It all started "innocently" enough when one or both of my twin uncles (the youngest of the siblings and the self-proclaimed trouble-makers), decided to add Gramma's ceramic skunk into her nativity set ~ always somewhere new. And one year the skunk replaced Jesus in the manger. It was intended to annoy Gramma and was, at least in part, rather purposely sacrilegious of course, and always upset Gramma. And then one year, the skunk disappeared entirely.<br />
<br />
Who knows where that skunk is now? Such a little trouble-maker, it symbolized so much. It symbolized the fact that we all come to Christmas, and to God from very different angles. Some of us come as the shepherds, the wise men, the angels, the holy family, or even the animals. But we all belong there - together - and even the skunk is welcome, one of the most odious of creatures to many people. Welcome at the manger.<br />
<br />
And as much as I don't condone the skunk replacing God in the manger, I would love to someday find a little skunk to add to my own nativity set. A simple reminder of, not only Gramma and the part that those memories play in who I am today, but also of God's love and grace.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3642528360863390851.post-43063718990405604712010-12-13T21:06:00.001-05:002010-12-13T21:13:08.903-05:00Thank God for this New Laughter...<blockquote><i>I was born to laugh</i><br />
<i>I learned to laugh through my tears</i><br />
<i>I was born to love</i><br />
<i>I'm gonna learn to love without fear</i><br />
<i>~</i><a href="http://www.overtherhine.com/cd13_lyrics.php"><i>"Born" (Over the Rhine)</i></a></blockquote><br />
I'm laughing today. Not just at the moon. Not just at the night. Not just in some feeble attempt to convince myself that I'm happy. Today, I am truly laughing.<br />
<br />
It's just... Something as small as laughter. Something as important as laughter. Something that I haven't fully experienced for a while. Something I'm afraid to allow myself to experience most of the time, because of what it usually means for me.<br />
<br />
See, laughter often signifies a manic episode. I become hyper-active, bounce off the walls, fail to sleep (and sometimes eat), and laugh hysterically over stupid things; I'm invincible and uninhibited and I am literally unstoppable. And I'm often not aware of it. Oh, I know how I feel and I know how I'm acting, but it doesn't register.<br />
<br />
It registers more clearly when I hit the intense irritability and anger, the almost paranoia over the feeling of spinning completely and wildly out of control, the panic attacks that make it impossible to breathe with stabbing knives in my heart, and the inability to stop laughing, even when it's wildly inappropriate to laugh.<br />
<br />
During my last manic episode, I made a comment on Twitter about how the upside to a manic insomnia was the ability to go all night without sleeping and still feel charged and ready to go the next day. A friend replied with something to the effect of, "I think all moms should be manic."<br />
<br />
No, Sweetheart, you really don't want that. Manic episodes are terrifying, and not just for me, but for everyone around me. Sure, I'm far more productive during those periods, but I'm also entirely unpredictable and irrational, and no child should ever have to deal with a mother like that. Happily, my mania is mild, my kids are in good hands, and I have the help I need to make sure we're all taken care of when necessary.<br />
<br />
Still, because of this, laughter has become a bit of a warning signal for me. A symptom of something else that has incredibly ominous potential. And so, it's been a long time since I have been able to enjoy laughter this much.<br />
<br />
But I do. Today, I do. This is a new laughter, a healing laughter. This is a laughter that overflows from hope and love.<br />
<br />
Because I have found reasons for laughter. Reasons to believe that the pain of the past couple years might actually be closing and a new chapter in my life might actually be opening.<br />
<br />
And this chapter might actually be full of real, honest, and non-mania-induced laughter.Neanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188878667527127822noreply@blogger.com2