The tools we use to heal our souls

I wish I didn't understand, Goodie, but I do. I understand to the bottom of my soul. That part of me is still broken, Goodie, and I've been working on it for over 20 years. I don't think it'll ever get fixed either. Ain't no super glue for that sort of thing, is there? I know that you've got a lot of broken stuff inside of you - I saw it, I felt it, when I first came here and met you. That's what attracted me to you. I felt a kindred spirit in you. Two broken people, but still able to love. Always able to love. That's our gift. That's what god or the universe or whatever you want to call it gave to us to compensate for all the broken pieces - our ability to love and be loved.
I do find inspiration in my friends. And it's really so odd. When I talk with Cyntrow about that part of my life, I always seem to say something that 'peaks' something within myself, something that says "POEM, POEM, POEM"! So I listen. Because writing it down does help. Even if it doesn't solve anything, it helps get it out, you know what I mean? It helps me hear what's inside of me. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't write. Yes I do. I'd do sculpture. I used to do clay sculptures, small, female figures. Very theraputic. I really want to do some more. Ihaven't done any since the early 90's I think. And now, I'm feeling the urge to push that clay. So I'm going to get some and see what develops. And then, when I get my scanner all hooked up proper, I'll scan some pics of them and send them to you! And you can see some of the weirdness that's inside of me, and how it looks. I always do female figures. They always represent myself. Not anatomically, not like a portrait, but how I feel - the positions their bodies are in, the body-language, I guess you'd call it. Yup - I really need to get my hands on some clay. It'll probably kill my fingers, but then again, it might be good for them. Sometimes I think that typing is bad for them, and then I think that it's probably good to keep them moving, to keep them limber. I dunno. Shite, I can't seem to stop talking!!!! Chatty friggin Cathy! I love ya, Goodie. Broken or not. I'll take you any way I can get you. xxx

Excuse the intrustion ladies, but I just have to say this.
All of us - every one of us, somewhere deep inside, have what we consider, broken parts of our souls that we hide away for awhile, but eventually they make themselves felt again. And we must face them, and try to mend them. Or so we believe.
I've come to believe that we aren't really broken at all. Cracked, chipped, scarred over in place, but not broken. If we were broken, the emotion attached would have so totally debilitated us, even now, that our capacity to heal, to move on, to TRIUMPH would be absent.
And many of us, you nova, you Goodie, and others, HAVE triumphed. You have triumphed, because in spite of your 'broken' parts, you still have the capacity to love others. It is not YOU who are broken - it is the people who made you feel that way, because there is NO real abiding capacity for love in those who do such damage to others.
JMO

That's what I said to Goodie, Sparky. We can still love. Love endures in us, no matter how fractured we might be. That's what keeps all our little pieces together. And we ain't the only ones, sister. You're right there with us. Angel too. We're women who've lived voraciously, loved endlessly and can't be stopped. And if not for all the fractures, we wouldn't be what and who we are. Who would understand that better than you, darling Spark?

(((((((nova,goodie,angel & others)))))))))

I'm sorry to hear you are hurting Angel.....................

Angel, even if that clay turned into something ugly, it would still be a true expression of your feelings, so therefore, would hold some degree of beauty, if only for the release. Does that make sense? Hey, we can sculpt our demons. I sculpted a demon once. And I gave it to my therapist, the one who helped me so much when O was dying, the one who helped me find the strength to continue living, even after O was no longer on this earth.

I'm so sorry to hear that you have this awful, sad thing to face right now. I will look for your post and read it carefully. This must be one hell of a death that's occurred to bring out such intense feelings of sorrow, hurt, frustration and pain. You're going to need us, Angel darling. So please, please use us. That's what friends are for. We're for leaning on when that flood rushes back to the forefront of our brains and heart. Understand?

And as for your writing for this funeral? Angel. You can do it more justice than most could ever aspire to doing. Pop some of that Excedrin migraine, pick up that pen, or sit at that keyboard, and write from that part of you that knows the person you've lost. You'll touch a chord in every single person in attendance. And it will do you good to write it all out.

I wish I could say something to help. But I have no idea what that might be, so I'll leave you with what I've already said. Till tomorrow, that is, and then maybe we can go a bit further into things. I love you, darlin. Take care. I wish you a little more peace than you've got right now. xxx

My goodness,Spark, you'd be lost in a maelstrom without the written word. It's your lifeline. This, I understand. And of course words will sometimes fail you. But it's not that they fail you, I think. It's just that what you're feeling can't yet be identified or explained or characterized, necessarily, by words. This is really, really hard to say, to put into words, oddly enough. But you don't need me to do that. You know. You'll get the words. All in good time. They WILL come. Now, I can't say when, darlin, but they'll come. You and words are part and parcel. Period. So, try to breathe and give yourself time to stop all the spinning and you'll soon sit down to write. What words those will be!!And the thing about the phoenix? I did rise, over and over again, only to be plucked back down into the fire. That's how that kind of abusive relationship works. It's like, "oh, you're so beautiful, let me give you the world." BUt then you do something they don't approve of, or you wear something they don't like, and the gifts are taken away, and you don't deserve the sound of his voice for a few days. That's only a small and insufficient example, but that's how it was. And the good was sooooo good, you'd do anything to get that little bit of good out of him again, anything. And if only you did everything right, if only you were the very best, you could make him see it all clearly, everything would be illuminated, and you'd have a fairy tale, Cinderella, glass slipper kind of life. Yeah, right. But you tried again and again and again and again. Forever. Endlessly. A vicious, self-perpetuating cycle. If only I had been beautiful enough. If only I hadn't said that one thing, if only, if only, if only. Blechh! Makes me want to stick my finger down my throat. But that's how it was. Love can be so goddam twisted.

Um, I think this poem's a little too abstract or something, maybe too cryptic, for anyone to understand it. Too obscure? I dunno. But I like it. It speaks to me. Shite. It spoke itself right out of me!

Oooh, but Spark, it doesn't rhyme. No cadence. Free verse. How about that?

Our feelings don't always rhyme nova - why do our words have to?
My poems have never rhymed....................and frankly, I hope they never will, because they wouldn't be a true reflection of ME if they did.
As for losing my words nova - they are there. They will always be there, but not here, for here they have been defiled and I will not share more of them again unless things change. I am here for special friends, to stay in touch, to offer support, to 'keep my hand in', but the fun, the laughter and so much of the love is gone...............*sigh*.

My stuff always rhymes though, Spark, as you know. It's really odd for me to write free verse like that, if that's what you call it. I thought of you immediately after I wrote it. You know why - because you and I have talked about that, and I know that you never rhyme, but you write sheer poetry, yes you do. You're very lyrical - you have no need for rhyme. But I think in rhyme a lot, so that just works for me, ya know? Yeah, you know.

Now - I know that you're not here anymore - there's a glaring hole on the Lot these days and it's in the shape of a Sparkofinsanity. Like a piece missing out of a puzzle. But I understand that you feel this is what you have to do now, and I can't even begin to blame you for it. I completely understand. It saddens me to no end, but I understand. Maybe that'll change soon - I sure as hell hope so.

I'm just so happy to see you. Choosing my poem discussion as the place to make your re-appearance is an honor, thank you. You grace my pages, darling. I hope by now you've read the e-mail I've sent you. It'll explain a lot, I think. I love ya, Sparky. Always. And I've still got it in my hand, btw.......

Me too - and now it's beating soft but strong because we have re-connected and I can't tell you what that means to MY heart.................Love you too!

yes.

Mornin', money, great to see you. And wow. You blow me away. You lost something so big, but you've reconciled it in your heart and mind so beautifully!! To be able to see that loss with such fresh, new eyes is really amazing to me and I admire you hugely for that. You wrote everything down, many journals, so you worked through SO much stuff, and now, you can chalk it up to experience and put it behind you and go on to face a brighter future. Wow, darlin. Good for you!!! That kind of attitude will serve you very well in your life. So, are you writing again? Have you started a journal for your new life?

I love seeing you in my discussions, money. You always, always have something thoughtful and salient to say and having you here is a real treat. Thank you so much for sharing with me. If I could reach out through this thing and give you a big hug, I surely would. So please accept my insufficient cyber-hug instead. xx

Thank you so much Nova!

Yes, I had journals dating all the way back to the 3rd grade. Most of those early ones were full of kid stuff, but my perspective on life as a child. I also had my middle school English class journals. We wrote about anything from what we thought about certain politics to what we ate for lunch that day.

Part of me is also glad that they are all gone is because I am not the type that wants people reading about my pain, even after I am dead. If someone hurts me, I am not the type that goes around telling everyone about it so they will be on my side.

For years after I left my first husband I let him play the helpless victim. I was the big mean one that walked out on him. I never told my family who loved him, all of the things that he did or said to me over 9 years. I didn't need to. They loved him and that was fine with me. I told them that when I told them that I was leaving him. They were upset for awhile. But even though I didn't tell them my personal business, they are able to see him more clearly now. I didn't need to point out his flaws to them to make myself feel better. He does that on his own. They still love him like a son and that doesn't bother me at all.

Even after I am long gone, I don't want my "voice" to be the one for people to base their opinions on. I don't want my story "told" or even read.

And yes, I do have a new journal. My husband bought me a beautiful woven one with a butterfly. It is almost full. I am not sure what I will do with it once I finish it.

Thank you, Opal, so much! I was pretty sure that poem would be lost on a whole lot of people, but you identified with something in it and saw something there and that warms my heart, yes it does. That relationship did indeed leave a deep wound on my soul, one that is always there, although the pain has gotten "easier", I guess, through the years. And it's odd, really, that I'm now re-visiting it, and putting some of it 'on paper', as it were, giving that pain some place other than my soul to live. I hope that makes sense to you - I have a feeling it might.

And hey, wow, thanks for the A+!! It's been EONS since I've gotten an A+!!

Oh, and one more thing. I'd LOVE to see some of your poems, anytime, absolutely anytime. I'd read them with a very open mind and heart, I assure you. So, think about it, and let me know what you think, ok?

You think you can't write poetry, p1key, but so much of what you write IS poetry. You can be so absolutely lyrical, it's a joy to read whatever you write, truly. And you know I mean what I say. Oh, and it seems to me that you've done a fine job of sorting through some pretty heavy thoughts and feelings recently, darling, and quite creatively too. Think about it. You'll know what I'm saying. I'm proud of you.

p.s. Potty? Potty? Why do you think clay suits me so well??? 'Cause I'm potty too, baby!!!!! Hey - pots of a feather....(?) (huh? that sounds really weird...) xxx

XXXX. Thank you sweet Nova. Have a good day at the office dear!!

Wow Natrak. You play the piano beautifully. Now that's one thing that I really do wish that I could do.

I wish I could say that's me on that video, but unfortunately I didn't appreciate my music classes in school as I should, so I am afraid I am not far from the beginning level. I still like to advise my son with his music (playing guitar) and my niece who is playing viola in the young orchestra.

Natrak, I watched and listened to that video and I very much appreciate your sending it to me, thank you. And I know what you mean when you say you just feel music, really I do. I feel it too, very deeply, and it's an integral part of my life. Certain songs evoke certain feelings and when we need to feel something or to change the way we feel, music is a wonderful tool to achieve that. No matter how we do it, no matter what method we use, it's just so important for us to USE our tools, to get through our turmoil, express our love, hold on to that sweet nostalgia, whatever it is we need to do. You've found your way of doing that through music. And I salute you for it. You're a very centered person, and generous and kind and if it's music that's helped you achieve that goodness, then more power to it.

Thank you so much for reading my poem and seeing something in it that if you couldn't necessarily identify with, you could understand the emotions within it and relate to them in your own way. I love having you in my discussions, always. And thanks again for the song. Keep that music close, darlin. xx

It's nice to read your discussions, they're always fun and interesting, and you are honest and sincere, never rude to anyone, just sharing your feelings.

Thank you, Natrak!! I always try to be honest and I mean what I say - to know that it comes across as sincere is very gratifying. ANd of course, for me, fun is of premium importance, so I have to squeeze a little fun out of everything I do. Have to.

Moondancer, it's so hard to find someone to talk to sometimes. I've always used "my books", as I call them, to talk to. That, and my animals. I talk to them too. And even though they don't answer back, they listen, and they let me hear what's coming out of my mouth and that's another form of therapy, just listening to yourself talk about things. Keep writing, moondancer. And if you ever care to share any of your work with me, I'd love to read it. I'd consider it very precious and wouldn't ever share it with anyone else unless I asked you first.
Keep writing, keep typing. I love seeing you here. I read a lot of your responses, which makes sense, considering we frequent some of the same discussions. But I actually LIKE what you write, which I can't say for everyone else.
Thanks for coming here. I appeciate it more than you know.

Thank you so much nova, you saying that means more to me than you'll ever know.

But I do sorta know, just like you do. It's a visceral thing. We share something intangible but powerful. We know. And only if you've felt real pain, the kind that scars your soul, can you understand that kind of bond. There are more kindred souls right here in this discussion. You'll recognize them when you see them, just like you did with me and I did with you. Sorta makes ya feel a bit less alone, doesn't it, darlin?

Annie. My heart. Thank you for your sweet words. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't suddenly grab my book or dive for the keyboard and bat out a few lines. For me, they come pretty suddenly. A word or a phrase or a line will pop into my head and if I don't go with it right then, I'll lose it. It really does help too, it really provides a vehicle for some of the stuff that I don't always know what to do with. I don't know if that makes any sense. But since you write, you know.

It's so funny you use the term sing-song. I DO write sing-songy. I even TALK sing-songy. 'at's me.

Sing, sing a song, make it simple, to last the whole night long, sing of good times, not bad, sing of happy, not sad..........

wooo, shite, Annie, I'm on a roll today!!!! I hate that song, but it came unbidden to my head as I was typing earlier. Sorry. Now it's probably in your head too. Do ya hate me? Nah, never!!!

I love ya, gal. Always. xx

Bohemianheart, THAT is beautiful!!!!! I got goosebumps when I clicked on it and it sprang up on my screen. Wow. Your muse transformed, darlin, and what a beautiful thing it morphed into!! You've got something. Yes, talent, to be sure, but something deeper, bohemianheart. You must be broken, or else you couldn't create such beauty. Amazing how something so beautiful can come from pain, isn't it? But for me, and clearly for you, that's how you get yourself THROUGH the pain, out the other side - by creating something, making art. It's funny - my muse goes away when my life is all sunshine. It only really makes an appearance when I'm dealing with something intense, painful, heartbreaking, emotionally turbulent, that sort of thing, you know what I mean. I think it has really good timing.
Your friend was right you know. She IS lucky to be broken on the outside. But still - it's only from pain that such beauty can be born. It's all a trade-off, Bo. I think that all of life's a trade-off. But some things I'll trade. Our pain and how we deal with it makes us better people, it creates depth in our souls, and enriches our karma.
Your drawing leaves me breathless. Thank you so very much for sharing it with me. And thank you for reading my poem and seeing something real in it.

Thank you, Nova. You made me cry. Not a sad thing, really. I am glad it touch