The elderly woman was carrying a tennis racquet.

Why on earth, would a stooped over, senior, who appeared to be on the brink of total confusion have a tennis racquet in hand, Everene wondered to herself.

She mused that perhaps the elderly woman was, in fact, a tennis fiend, who only showed her true agility once on the court. She imagined her stooped back zigzagging carried by fiercely agile legs, making solid stroke after solid stroke.

By the time her daydream ended, Everene realized the woman had long since passed, leaving her to stare at her own reflection in the shop window across the street.

An organist played on the walk. She envied him for his freedom, just as much as she envied the girls walking past with hot pink laces and strawberry milkshakes to match.

A tourist passed by with an old fashioned camera. He looked even more lost than the ancient tennis champion, taking photos of objects simply to warn off pitying onlookers, who couldn't help but notice his abject loneliness.

Everene recognized that look well. She had been a tourist herself in places that failed to excite her imagination. After all, a brick is a brick, a building a building, a street, no matter how lovely, a street. Not a particularly cheerful girl, she preferred these days to sit and observe the world pass by, rather than trying to pass it by.

An observer has no duty to be cheerful, to smile or engage or entertain. An observer might just sip her coffee and quietly form opinions, at no cost of time, effort or funds. Most importantly, observers are rarely observed. Granted, they may be noticed, as a ray of sunlight falling through the leaves is noticed, but observers are rarely watched with the same intensity they give their subjects. That's what Everene liked most her hobby, it's freedom.

She could hide in plain sight, leaving others momentarily curious, but never giving them any insight, any answers. Her silence and stillness left them bored, and they moved on, leaving her to continue her statuesque duties. 

Speaking of, she had been squinting, occasionally, at the other unmoving object in her eye line, a statue of two wolves. One appeared to be lunging over the other with her directly in his sight. Perched precariously on a tower of stone, the two seemed suspended in mid air, as though taken from a frozen arctic and perfectly preserved.

She watched, and they watched, amidst the city's attempts to disguise itself with bits of nature, as an aging woman attempts to disguise her cracks and wear with cosmetics, a touch of blush to evoke youth, a dash of greenery to cover up years of grime.

Drop me by the waterfall

Just drop me by the waterfall, and say goodbye to me beneath it's moonlit flow.
Just walk me up the mountain, and leave me to find my way down to the valley below.
Take me in an aeroplane, and drop me out the hatch, put me in a cellar far away, and just forget the latch.

I'll find my way, don't you mind, I'll find it by and by
I'll be alright, on my own, and trust, I'll never be alone

But keep me close, and don't forget, that I'm not here to die.
So let me be, and let me go, and let me ride the starry sky

Seek me in the black night and shadowy branches, in every place of dark
And find me in under the river's stone and between the spread feathers of the lark

Remind me to follow, and to keep the pace, and don't let me forget to cover my face.
Remind me that there's always another day, and another way
For me to find my way home.

For I've traversed this globe, and I've done it without you
I've watched for myself, and done what no one else would do.

And I've waited and wandered, within and without,
To and fro, ceaselessly seeking one without doubt

To put it loudly, I've been ignored and neglected without just cause
But, just because.

Lord, a great sadness has come over me today, and I no not why nor what to do. My hands disfavor all work, my heart sinks with every word, and I desire nothing but some comfort that is far off, beyond my very reach. All around me is that which I never asked for and never wanted.

A father who sees me as one might watch a bird flying overhead, not a daughter who is in need of love, care, attention, guidance and protection, but as a beast who has her own flock. In some ways, he sees me as his maid, his servant, here to give to him and do as he requests. Here to serve some duty or purpose, to love and attend to him, which I fail at miserably in my distrust of him. Perhaps he sees me as something, an object, pretty to look at, but if he cannot possess it, a pointless thing. It is very painful, and I am viewed as selfish in this light.

In truth, I am sick of any celebration of fathers or of men. I am tired of birthdays and holidays and some force telling me to be grateful for those which God has set before me, who seem only to mock me. I am not a bird, I am a woman with a word, with a spine and a voice and a feeling and a heart and I must outsmart them. They all seek to weaken me, even those who are here to love and protect me, will eventually start tearing at my heart. They fail to see our commonality, and I am not one to teach them, nor to trust them as my teachers.

The verses I stay up to read remind me to trust one thing, and that is God. How trying is my life at times, and how much I've sought and still fail to find that comfort. How hopeless I feel at times, for I feel too weak, and overcome to take another step or give another drop of myself down that empty well. He knows I am tormented in the darkness of night, up to hear the swallows begin to chirp softly, then to hear those nesting in the trees begin their loud cries.

You show me couples Lord! You show me dancing, life, vibrancy and truth. You show me fun, and beauty and yet... I am so far on the outside of all of it! You have given me some small beauty, I know it's true. Men tell me of my great intelligence, they marvel at it... and yet, what use are these gifts if I cannot share them with those who receive them with honor?

I can think of nothing I'd rather do than write and write, and write a novel.

The Power of Forgiveness.

God told me to write, to write for my sister and to write what is right, which I do not know. I avoid, yes, I avoid, but perhaps, as it said in my little book on my little phone, full of all the information the world has ever known... why do I need to know all these things? All these little available pieces of tidbits that will never pertain to my own existence and will never answer the questions of my heart: is everything really going to be okay? What about for the people it's not okay for? Am I loved? Why am I so awful and how do I improve? Who of all the contacts in my phone can tell me that? Who can tell me, with the utmost certainty, you are okay, and so is she and so am I and so is everyone else? Who has the power to condemn and retrieve me when I've lost my way and I won't return? Who will remember me?

Anyway, the little book on my little phone said avoidance is not the answer, acceptance, acceptance is the answer.

So, what happens is I need, so I take, but it's not really what I need that I'm taking, and then I feel more sad than ever, because I am disappointed and I need something. Like drinking from a mirage. And it's all a mirage right now. So, I must stop taking and I must start giving, though everything in me says take, take, take, they don't know your pain and they must know your pain... but the truth is, what pain? I am walking, I am talking, I am flirting, I am reading helpful little books on my little broken phone. So, what pain?

The pain of being alone, of feeling pointless, of wanting all those things, like the Fantastic Four, X-Men or the Avengers. Desiring a teacher who will show you the truthful way, who will guide you through all your frustrations, because it's not really time for me to be wise, but maybe, maybe it is. I don't do well as a student, rarely as a patient. I do well as a leader and a teacher, as a guide myself, though I desire that figure, he's only available in movies. Like Morpheus, Mr. Miagi, someone who embodies love, faith and can take all my rage and hurt and fire and passion and funnel it into something magical, a practice, an understanding, a trial and difficulties and obstacles that are all meant to be understood. Otherwise, well, otherwise I could ... well, I can't even say it.

I've been saying for years I need training. I need that kind of training, from someone who wholeheartedly believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself, who is there with me, helping me to learn discipline day after day, as a disciple.

Ah, well, for now I may have to substitute that beautiful person, with all of their ceremony and nice garb, with all of their grace and depth, for Google. And, I do realize, that one of my greatest fears is knowing it all, and remaining indifferent. And I, for one, am genuinely afraid of indifference. It is something beyond my grasp, beyond that which I have observed, which is that someone fully believes that you do not count. So, I am afraid of my own indifference. I am afraid of others' indifference toward me. I can think of nothing worse, for that is loneliness. It's isolation on the side of a blisteringly cold mountain, begging for someone who's stronger to come, and no one does. It's actually almost impossible for me to believe it happens, but it does. It's caused by something I cannot name.

So, speaking of Google, which God may use when no other human substitute is available, I just suddenly felt a strong urge to search for the definition of "acceptance," and this one of the first things that came up:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acceptance_and_commitment_therapy

Some quotes (which I think aforementioned mentors may seek to develop in their very proteges, shockingly):

ACT differs from traditional cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) in that rather than trying to teach people to better control their thoughts, feelings, sensations, memories and other private events, ACT teaches them to "just notice," accept, and embrace their private events, especially previously unwanted ones.

ACT aims to help the individual clarify their personal values and to take action on them, bringing more vitality and meaning to their life in the process, increasing their psychological flexibility.

While Western psychology has typically operated under the "healthy normality" assumption which states that by their nature, humans are psychologically healthy, ACT assumes, rather, that psychological processes of a normal human mind are often destructive.^[6] The core conception of ACT is that psychological suffering is usually caused by experiential avoidance, cognitive entanglement, and resulting psychological rigidity that leads to a failure to take needed behavioral steps in accord with core values. As a simple way to summarize the model, ACT views the core of many problems to be due to the concepts represented in the acronym, FEAR:

• Fusion with your thoughts
• Evaluation of experience
• Avoidance of your experience
• Reason-giving for your behavior

And the healthy alternative is to ACT:

• Accept your reactions and be present
• Choose a valued direction
• Take action

ACT commonly employs six core principles to help clients develop psychological flexibility:^[6]

1. Cognitive diffusion: Learning methods to reduce the tendency to reify thoughts, images, emotions, and memories
2. Acceptance: Allowing thoughts to come and go without struggling with them.
3. Contact with the present moment: Awareness of the here and now, experienced with openness, interest, and receptiveness.
4. Observing the self: Accessing a transcendent sense of self, a continuity of consciousness which is unchanging.
5. Values: Discovering what is most important to one's true self.^[7]
6. Committed action: Setting goals according to values and carrying them out responsibly.

Wilson, Hayes & Byrd explore at length the compatibility between ACT and the 12-step treatment of addictions and argue that, unlike most other psychotherapies, both approaches can be implicitly or explicitly integrated due to their broad commonalities. Both approaches endorse acceptance as an alternative to unproductive control. ACT emphasizes the hopelessness of relying on ineffectual strategies to control private experience, similarly the 12-step approach emphasizes the acceptance of powerlessness over addiction. Both approaches encourage a broad life-reorientation, rather than a narrow focus on the elimination of substance use, and both place great value on the long-term project of building of a meaningful life aligned with the clients' values. ACT and 12-step both encourage the pragmatic utility of cultivating a transcendent sense of self (higher power) within an unconventional, individualized spirituality. Finally they both openly accept the paradox that acceptance is a necessary condition for change and both encourage a playful awareness of the limitations of human thinking.

And now, the definition of acceptance/accept: 

ac·cept

  [ak-sept]  Show IPA

verb (used with object)

1.

to take or receive (something offered); receive with approval or favor: to accept a present; to accept a proposal.

2.

to agree or consent to; accede to: to accept a treaty; to accept an apology.

3.

to respond or answer affirmatively to: to accept an invitation.

4.

to undertake the responsibility, duties, honors, etc., of: to accept the office of president.

5.

to receive or admit formally, as to a college or club.

6.

to accommodate or reconcile oneself to: to accept the situation.

7.

to regard as true or sound; believe: to accept a claim; to accept Catholicism.

8.

to regard as normal, suitable, or usual.

9.

to receive as to meaning; understand.

10.

Commerce . to acknowledge, by signature, as calling for payment, and thus to agree to pay, as a draft.

11.

(in a deliberative body) to receive as an adequate performance of the duty with which an officer or a committee has been charged; receive for further action: The report of the committee was accepted.

12.

to receive or contain (something attached, inserted, etc.): This socket won't accept a three-pronged plug.

13.

My favorite: to receive (a transplanted organ or tissue) without adverse reaction. Compare reject (  def 7 ) .

My Hollywood Moment

Two weeks ago, I thought to myself, hmm... I'd like to be an actress. Subsequent thoughts told me I was too old, needed to lose 10 more pounds, too stuck in Longmont. Despite them all, I found myself applying to be an extra in a film, even in the midst of great emotional turmoil last week. The night before, I couldn't sleep, but I felt my heart becoming more and more excited, as though it was anticipating something well and fine on the horizon. The next morning I arrived late to the set, disheveled, in a dress from the wrong time period and praying only for God's grace. While lining up for wardrobe, an angel, who wasn't so well put together himself, selected me out of the crowd and asked me if I was free later. I said of course, emphatically (I wasn't). He then told me that I'd be the "script supervisor." Confused, I still signed up for the job... wondering why such a large film wouldn't have such a crucial position filled. It took hours for me to receive clarity on that, but something I learned stayed with me, "Have patience." I was kept out of all scenes with extras and whisked away to a basement makeup artist from Los Angeles, Julie, and hairstylist, Andee. The power went out during my styling, and I ended up hating my hairdo.

To be continued...

A pen to page, a keystroke and a pelican in my dreams.

I've known you for a thousand years. I've known you through all of your trials and I find you here. You are reaching the end. You have been placed here for a reason, do not falter. That reason is victory. You have always been victorious and it is the reason for your trials now. To overcome.

I remember when I met you. I had been searching and searching, and somehow, you just found me.

http://dragonflyherbals.com/schulze.html

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?

My body is lithe, and my hair cascades around my shoulders. The band begins to play, rah rah rah, and the gilded doors open. I step out and onward, from the black starry night of my youth, into the world of grown-up dress-up. I slip and no one steadies me, no one seems to notice. I whisper to myself, "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this," and move onward.

Take note. I am alright! I am ok! No need to sound the alarm. All is well within, all is well without. I am like you, light and cheerful. I am aglow with health and ease.

White cloth billows from the tall windows, beckoning us to return to the land and the lapping waves so near. Asking us to bathe in the moonlight and breathe the sharp night air.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be caught up in those stars. As though one night the Earth herself might forget to hold me close to her, and I'll just float away.

What would it be like to travel into space? I don't ever imagine a suit, no, I might just exist out there, just like I exist here, scarcely breathing. 

Perhaps I would discover something altogether new. Perhaps my lungs would fill with dark matter, and my cells would use their dark energy to propel me onward forever. Anything could happen.

Snap!

My mind ceases to wonder and I look around to see who has clicked his fingers in my face. It's a handsome man. A man too handsome to take any notice of me.

But he has, and won't stop staring into me with those crystal blue eyes that remind me of a lake I once jumped into at the top of a mountain. Nothing lived in that lake, which is why it was so pure.

Like Space, so clean. Life always dirties things and death is simply cleaning up and cleaning out.

Mold, bacteria and worms, they all simply exist to clean. The mops and dustpans of the universe. First, stop life. Then, clean life out.