Hungering...

Lately... Well, for quite some time really...since well before my divorce, I have discovered I have been hungering for something...yes, hungering. It seems to be the only word that fits.

"Craving" doesn't do it justice, nor does "wanting" or "desiring"' and most certainly not "needing"...not even "driven".

But "hungering"...yes, hungering does the trick...epitomizes the feeling, the pull I feel and evokes just the right amount of recognition at the soul level when I say it. When I write it. When I utter it silently to myself. Hunger.

My life has really always been about hunger and in many cases curtailing it. Maybe putting my own needs and desires aside for someone else's - and to be honest and totally frank, to conform to society.

And that's just it!!!!! I've never conformed to society or fit the status quo...even when I WAS the status quo, it wasn't me. It didn't feel right. I didn't recognize myself. I wanted to be who YOU wanted me to be...YOU being whomever would give me the love and acceptance I craved (yes, craved fits here) as a child. And sure, that provided for some normalcy for a while...but that's boring.

I'm interested in finding out what makes people tick..what makes ME tick...and why. Why do we tick? Or why do some of us tick and some of us tock and others never quite seem to be in sync with anything? This is interesting to me.

I have a hunger, and it is insatiable. For discovery. For adventure. For exploration. For good. For love. For connection. For learning. For sharing For carving out my own niche in the world. For the extraordinary. And no, I don't mean some unattainable mountain in the sky that no one can ever reach...and I don't mean that I need to see fireworks and explosions in every situation or encounter. That's just the thing...for me, the simple, the beautiful quiet and color of the world and the people in it are enough for me. I just want to know them and to help maybe on some level. I'm not really sure how, I always wanted to join the Peace Corps. That may be the ticket. Maybe writing. Maybe recruiting. Maybe becoming that National Geographic photographer (or just pretending I am)...very large note to self...must invest in a better camera.

So to do all this, I figure I have to know what I am passionate about. That's easy for me. Truth. What's real. Heart stopping moments, things that make a difference. Sometimes it's just a burger made with truffles and foie gras (no kidding, try it. Unfucking-believable.

I'll tell you what I'm tired of though. Insincerity. Lack of follow through. Passive aggressive bullshit. Do or do not, there is no try. Say what you mean and mean what you say and realize life is no fairy tale and neither is love. Both are what you make them. And both require some nurturing and attention. Watering with intent, if you will. Remember, what you feed will grow. What you neglect will die.

Or make it more personal and give it responsibility and say " what I feed will grow...and what I neglect will die".

I'm not even sure what this blog is about, but I've been restless for several years now and part of it stems from not listening to my passion, my joie de vivre, my bliss, my "micheleness", my path...and quite frankly, it's time. Well past time.

What I know is this... I'm happiest when I am true to myself (the good, the bad and the ugly). I am happiest when I am needed, relevant, and my senses and mind are engaged. I am at peace when I know love. And present-ness. And can clear out all the clutter of noise which seems to clamor for my attention like a jilted lover.

What I don't quite yet know is how to reach this state. Is it nirvana? My nirvana, perhaps. I know, I know- "be the mountain" is the advice I would find and hear if sought. And I also know the truth and wisdom of it. But somehow, being the mountain doesn't quite mesh with my hunger. Perhaps that's my key? Finding a way to just "be" with my hunger and see where it leads me.

I'll let ya know how it works out. Thanks for the company.

A Soul in flux...

My recent return from Kuwait has cycled me through many stages of readjustment into a somewhat normal life, although it is not as normal as many would be comfortable with. And truth be told,  I haven't decided yet how comfortable it is for me, really...

I'm living a nomadic and somewhat gypsy lifestyle with the newfound freedom that I have gained since my divorce and property reassignment amongst my cherished friends. For the most part, I have to say I really do enjoy it.  I don't have children or a house or spouse to tie me to any space.  I feel as if I have been given a second life and am approaching it with reverance and openness to whatever comes and wherever my path leads me.

Since returning stateside in February, I have traveled to the Hamptons in NY, Ft. Lauderdale (twice) where I sailed and worked from a friend's sailboat, been in Connecticut twice, spent a week in Kansas City, two marvelous trips to Manhattan,  a weekend in the OBX, and a week in Rancocas, NJ (outside Philly), trained and run a half marathon, and haven't missed a beat working. 

I've caught up with friends, visited favorite restaurants, discovered new running trails, made new friends, taken up kickboxing, flirted a little, dated a little, and learned above all else that the universe seems to keep giving me the things I crave and desire.  I've learned that my chosen family in Williamsburg has saved my life in so many ways and that they are a part of me and as important to me as any blood family could ever be. 

Damn.  I am tired.

I've also realized that it is ok to say what I mean and mean what I say, and to do it without malice and from a place of love... and that there is power and freedom in releasing toxic memories and holds that others have on me.  I released my mother in this way a few months ago.  She opened the door for me to say calmly and without anger that I did not enjoy my childhood, that she had in fact not been a good mother (with the constant belittling, beatings, namecalling, bloody-nose-giving and that relationship defining moment she pulled the knife on me for letting her know the steak she was going for had spices she wouldn't like so that she would take one that was prepared especially for her.)

Yes, I realize she probably has some sort of undiagnosed disorder or psychosis, is bi-polar or manic depressive or schizophrenic or something. But that doesn't mean I have to choose to let her continue the abuse at this stage in my life. Not even in a grin and bear it kind of way.   So - I cut the ties.  Severed the cord.  Ended the relationship. 

Her response?  "I'm sorry I was such a disappointment to you.  You seemed to turn out ok."

Really? Wow.

But that's ok.  My journey, my path, my purpose, if you will, is to take care of me, and not to force some emotion or action or explanation or apology on or from someone who doesn't even realize that it is merited or that they did anything wrong.  I've said it before and it bears repeating...I'm glad she had me because I am truly in love with this great big beautiful world and the life I am able to live. That's all I really need to know at this point.

I've been letting go of other things and people as well.  It started with all my belongings before going to Kuwait and has evolved into letting go of my stepsons, and a few dreams. 

Oh, my two handsome young Skinner men, I am honored and forever grateful to have been a part of your lives for a while.  To travel and laugh and share with and just marvel at how fast you grew up.  But you aren't mine any longer.  And I held on for maybe a little longer than I should. Love is sometimes letting go, as they say.  I love you Sam.  I love you James.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wonder what you are up to and hope that you are happy and healthy and feeling loved and worthy.  You are.  So much so. 

I am learning to finally let go of my pain and anger about my divorce.  Though there is nothing, truly, that would ever cause me to want to be with my ex again, I find that I am mourning the death of that dream.  The dream of a life I thought was mine.  I have learned, AGAIN, that nothing is permanent.  Nothing and noone. 

Now you romantics out there will be scoffing and harumphing and saying "love is permanent"...how can you say that nothing is permanent??? 

Well, because nothing is.  I believe the love that a parent has for a child is permanent, yes. But the romantic sort of love?  No.  Not permanent.  Not in a "guaranteed, I'll love you forever no matter what" kind of way.  Because love will wither and die without tending and nurturing.  Love needs love too.  Like a garden....cliche...cliche...cliche...   So you see, I believe that love CAN be permanent, but love and permanence are not interchangeable. It is, as everything is - what you make of it.  You are what you love.  In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make...I think the Beatles said that. It rings with a universal truth. 

What we feed will grow. And what we neglect will die.


I took my job in the Middle East to heal, to learn, to grow, to adventure. And it is a safe bet to say that a lot of healing, learning, growing and adventure took place. And as one might expect, the journey through all those chapters continues. They are often like chapters within chapters...sort of "mise en abyme", which may be a gross bastardization of the French terminology and for those with such sensitivies, I do humbly apologize.

Suffice it to say my journey of healing, learning, growing and adventure is one of many attempts of moving forward, only to stumble backwards every once in a while and sometimes to fall into an inescapable mudslide for a spin. So it goes.

The universe has this way of forcing the issues back on you that you try to gently slip under the rug and feign having processed them already. Denial and avoidance are normal coping mechanisms and may work for awhile, but they are not long term effective. Not by a long shot.

So....my time in the desert is a time I am still processing. The wonderful things I saw and the wonderful people I met and became cosmic kin with...the people I was able to help...the things I was able to see and experience. I would not trade it. Not even the bad. Nothing negative happened to me, but I saw plenty that opened my eyes to what much of the world, especially those of us in the USA do not know about and are not aware of.

These are topics for another blog and that I plan to explore when I can give them proper time and focus, but include human trafficking, honor killings, domestic abuse, absolute inequality based on nationality and gender bias....things that just ARE the way they ARE in the Middle East and that forced an outspoken and opinionated champion of girl power and overall human equality to be a silent observer, because to do otherwise had consequences that were just too scary for me to consider. I'm no martyr or saint, and I figured my voice could better serve once out of immediate harm's way and at least back on my home soil.


And now the conundrum...the cosmic "mixer-upper" of the Universe has shown me a grievous error I have made for many years.  In my efforts to protect myself from my mother and my anger at her and fear of her, I have managed to isolate myself from my brothers and from my stepdad.  My brothers still live at home and haven't much interest in visiting me, so I sort of stopped being interested in visiting them.  The fact that my mother is there as well makes it easy to avoid so that I do not have to spend time with her.  And as the normal course of life would have it, it seems my stepdad, Melvin, may well be reaching the end of his life.  And the years of not giving to and feeding my relationship with him are quite sadly lost.

You may remember me talking about Melvin and the day he won my love and respect...when he stopped my mother when she held that knife at my throat. (It doesn't even make sense to me when I tell this story..).  Anyway, Melvin is pretty sick and may well have not one, not two, but three types of cancer and is likely doing more suffering than he should. 

All I can think is that he was always kind to me.  Always good.  Always gentle.  Always respectful.  He taught me to drive.  He drove me to the bustop on cold or rainy mornings and sat with me till the bus came after working till midnight the night before.  He made me breakfast.  He even took me to see Cinderella when I was a girl, because even he knew that every little girl relates to a princess story.  Cinderella was especially apropos for me. 

Melvin worked relentlessly at an $18,000 a year job to support my mother, me, and my two brothers after my mom decided not to work anymore.  He worked in the garden all day during the summers, cleaned the house, did the grocery shopping, and went to work in a textile mill at 4PM, came home a little after midnight and did it all again the next day.  He put up with screaming, belittling, complete bitchery from my mother and never was disrespectful to her in return.  He loved her.  He accepted her for who and what she was.  I have absolutely no idea why.  But he did. And now he is going to die.  Probably soon.  Of course, we all die...but I was so focused on staying out of my mothers path and wrath that I completely ignored him in the process and never really even got to know him. This makes me sad.  So, yes, I sent him a card and told him all of this recently (he isn't a phone talker) and I know he wouldn't talk in person either and she'd make it miserable for all of us.  But I missed a lot of years appreciating and loving a man who was good and kind and tried his best to be a father to me. Even though I reminded him regularly that he wasn't my dad.  Because I placed my own absentee father on a pedestal and romanticized him as some heroic figure who escaped my mother and therefore deserved all my love.  A pity. Truly. 

That was wrong.  Melvin was the hero.  The silent, steady, constant who cared for me regardless of who I was or who my father was. 

What's the moral of this hodge podge of a story?  I'm not sure.  The same as always I suppose. 

Treat your children well....make the right choices....believe in yourself....don't waste precious time or love....accept things when they don't go your way....let go when it is time...be grateful....learn from the pain....love your life anyway....and try, if you realize you are doing it, not to run or hide from what is important.  It's all a journey and we are all learning at our own pace and can really only do our best to facilitate the lessons and the journey.  Time is precious.  Tell the people you love that you love them.  It doesn't matter if they love you back or not.  Love is free.  Love is the ultimate good.  Love is the ultimate answer to any question.  Be open.

Dare to love and live and be without agenda or expectation.

Ma'salaama, my friends.  Thanks for bearing with me. I don't think this one ties together very well and it seems like there is still a lot unsaid.

"But if I write what my soul thinks, it will be visible, and the words will be its body." Helen Keller