Love Locks

Who Am I: Who I Am. Aºtlas of My Heart

I write to travel to the next vista - to find a better viewing point. I love to write and think and I find my journal is my passport. Although I started this writing prior to my trip to visit my father, now that I have returned, what I was missing is now in place. So I will write about it.

I travel to many worlds and back again every day. G.S.

Following my heart's desire with taking definitive action is a game changer. I am exhausted from striving, exhilarated and terrified, and wholly uncentered. Taking on the challenge of living The Wholehearted Revolution as a way of life was just the beginning. I am finding that now the road has twisted and turned and threatens to buck me off.

I have unlocked {My Heart}. And it speaks, and it will not be quiet.

Life is art without an eraser. G.S.

If I had not the music

I would be without the love;

If I had not the writing

I would be without the song;

If I had not the art

I would be without the heart;

And if I had not the horse

I would not know how to dance.

G.S.

places we go when things aren't what they seem

amusement/haha
bittersweet/romance
nostalgia/romantica
cognitive dissonance/split me
paradox/on both sides now
irony/just clueless
sarcasm/tasteless

There is something about the colour of cardboard that speaks of adventure, of art, of moving day, and of new possibility. I look at the roll of masking tape, a cream colored ribbon of sticky that adorns my photos, connects cardboard slats, and pulls together whatever has pulled apart.

Cardboard & Masking Tape: The Story of Me

nostalgia/romantica

My earliest memories of cardboard came as a discarded refrigerator box that I turned into a gypsy wagon complete with calico curtains at the cut-out windows, a door flap and tempura painted flowers of bright yellow, red, and ultramarine blue merrily splashed along the outside of my new sleeping quarters. Yes, I slept in my cardboard gypsy wagon for months plunked in the middle of my bedroom I shared with my older sister.

Today I Awoke Happy

With the resolve to no longer listen to the death throes of this land. To turn instead to humanity and finding the goodness that still exists neighbor by neighbor. To look ahead to a road trip that throws caution to the wind and welcomes a carefree spirit like a breath of fresh air.

Say goodbye to lost focus and say hello to greeting fellow travelers on life's high road. Gypsies all. After all, "This world is not my home," as C.S. Lewis put it so well.

Here is to the resilient of spirit, who still hope when all hope is lost, and dare to look toward the better horizon of a Kingdom made not of dust and decay.

I started at the doorstep of the day I took the challenge of living The Wholehearted Revolution. To become authentic. To dare greatly. To come alive. To follow my passions. To ask The Almighty what he had in mind for me from the day of my birth. To admit I have strayed off the path, many times, but here I am; "Send me." No more wasted time, no more wasted life.

I am writing in hopes of reclaiming my balance, my life, my mind, my soul, and my heart. I glance over at the little bright heads still sleeping in the morning hour. Quiet, oh bliss!

I whisper a prayer of thankfulness as the sun spills into outside yard and across the vast lawn, creating shadows from the trees and outdoor furniture. I am sitting in front of the southside window where I have my writing desk and rocker.

This is where I open my heart and talk to my Maker. Where the day is formed and plans are discussed. Before the interruptions begin. Before my mind has a chance to rethink and analyze and get dejected.

bittersweet/romance

Our friend has been given one more day. Our household has been divided, half staying there and hovering in hopes of offering care and companionship for the one departing this life - and half remains here {me and the little ones} keeping the porch light [ON].

I am living at the edge of this cliff. When will the phone ring or the text come saying it is over, it is finished. The loved one has passed from this life to the next. Their spirit gone to be with The Lord.

And all this on the precipice of our road trip to reunite 3/4 of The Stockwells Four.

amusement/haha

Even in this I can find a bit of amusement, imagining a sign that does not say 'Gone Fishing' but says "Gone to Heaven's Stables" - I think that is what I will request be put on my front door when my time comes.

Oh, how death doth come to interrupt the plans of ourst lives. G.S.

And, I would not have it any other way. For today we continue the death watch vigil. Amid little children that play and giggle and talk of death as a new mysterious thing our friend will soon do.

There looms ahead of me a new life of enrolling in an equine artist master class. A wish come true! But first, I must disembark my artist ship and travel the weekend to a destination that opens the past and presents a future possibility. I go to a family reunion of 3/4 of The Stockwells Four.

I have found over the past six days I am not Mother Teresa.
She is kind, but I pound tables. G.S.

I am nervous about how I look. I have aged this past 7 years. It's sometimes hard to recognize myself. The silver roots, the new wrinkles, the loss of stamina, the loss of supple, the loss of youth. I'm not so sure I like this thing called aging.

cognitive dissonance/split me

I split. This is what I experienced when after travelling 800 miles, my father claimed illness and therefor was unable to visit with me. Dissonance is disquieting. Self-justification is disharmony. I’m not manufacturing excuses anymore for anyone.

Cognitive dissonance is a state of tension that occurs when a person holds two cognitions {ideas, attitudes, beliefs, opinions} that are psychologically inconsistent with each other. Brené Brown

What? I had done my due diligence with a 30-day notice of arrival, received a positive response and upon arrival: an apology for absence. Me: Deflated and surprised.

My sister and I enjoyed our afternoon reunion at the park while the children played. The 5 children met their great-aunt then returned to their play in the splash pads and swing sets.

paradox/on both sides now

We spoke of our father, but not for too long. We have become adults and realize things have changed. The family dynamics no longer exist. What we once believed of an invincible family with a patriarch who led by scripture has long since been buried. Buried along with my mother in 1997. The Love Locks went with her. My sister and I have been locked out of our father's life ever since. Ever since the music ended.

He says he loves us. In his own way from somewhere in the world he has locked himself into {alone}.

irony/just clueless

Who am I: Who I am. I am without a mother and I am without a father. He has no interest in participating in the lives of his children, grandchildren, or great grandchildren. I would love to speak of mom and reminisce. Why is it taboo? What irony.

I am clueless how to process my own feelings. Tomorrow, my dad will be 91 years old. On August 19th, the 27 year anniversary of my mom: Heaven Sent.

My mother’s favorite: Heaven Sent parfum by Helena Rubenstein

This is what long term recovery looks like for me. {Thank you, Dear Lord}

God bless those who are sober and may God bless those who are destined to become sober. G.S.