Spring in Steamboat Springs, CO

In my imagination...

our energies are combining
...

embellished into one

...

scents of the rise

...
scents of the fall

...

naked thoughts

...

of nothing wrong...

hold on while we roam...

don't let me go

let me stay

let us play touch by touch nothing said ... only view ...my god you are beautiful

come ... take my hand

let the play begin.

Choreography

Tonight was amazing. We attended the performance of "Choreography". The whole performance was students only. The "Choreography" team - the class put on the most beautiful show. It was all students. Every bit, every inch, every piece belonged to the students. It showed me that our world as we know it is going to be extraordinary! The creativity, the imagination was magnificent. Bodies living as vowels, as consonants. Taking a song, and making it belong. Yes, that rhymed. It is all in sync. Watching, becoming a song was mind boggling. These students took these songs and made them come to life. My favorite was "consonants, vowels". I relived it. How "songs" reflect a body. A being. Merging into one. Breathtaking.

Of course, my mind wandered to Dan. He does the same, not the choreography, but the song itself. Making a song come alive.

It took away the darkness from yesterday. Bringing it to a much more peaceful, soothing place. Understanding history. Mysteries of yesterday enlightened. Every insight, every hidden truth, oh my, it is good to be alive. Create the world you desire. For me, it is a world of peace. A world of beauty, a world of truth, a world of wonder. Be who you are. Be who you imagine yourself to be.

Beth's Poem

While walking down a mountain path,

And coming to a stream,

I feel a sudden rush of wrath

Yet it tastes so serene.

I have been bent and broken

from these painful memories

So keep this as a token

of my sweet scent of apathy.

I splash our reflection

out of that stream

I'm sick of this affliction.

Stop infesting my dreams.

by Beth Ceragioli

Clumpiest

Ok. I clumped a few days into one. That day had so many different meanings. Today, a new day, no clumpiness. My daughter read me her poem. Her and Daniel broke up several weeks ago. It has been heartwrenching. "Mom, can you just hold me". Yea, heartwrenching from wanting to murder the guy that hurt her." We moved on. Life is so much better. Back to the poem. I merged several happenings into one. It took pain, it took hurt, it took courage to rebound. I will post her poem when she is ready. All I can say at this point, it is absolutely beautiful!

No Reply

16" x 20" Acrylic on Canvas

Update: Realized I had set up the "google alert" a long time ago when Dan and I were emailing. I removed the alert.

This week I have received emails re: "daniel dutton-no reply". They came in the early sleeping hours. Reading his blogs, I so want to respond, yet, I am not allowed. His latest, "white lady", calls to my very soul. Cannot explain it. It is stunning to say the least. Relating in a territory so off limits. Most folks would just call it "looney". I am not looney. Just optimistic in a time where the world sees suffering. I see renewal. Realistic vs. optimistic? You can sit and seep into darkness, or you can overcome it and find a higher ground. I choose the higher ground. Beliefs? I believe in a higher power. Do not try to define it. I do experience it. Beauty, love, aweness, whatever words may try to describe it, it isn't enough. I experience it. So very, very grateful. Bubbly, yea, that's me. Descriptive? Cannot describe it. Words are just words. Meanings given to man. I say one thing, mean another. Somehow, the meaning is translated. Connection. Miraculous connections. Science tries to explain it. Is it explainable? Energy. Positive/negative. Why not stick to the positive? Will it overide the negative? Or does it need to balance out?

This poem which Dan wrote, "White Lady", reminds me of one of our last emails when I told him I knew who his lover was. He flipped. To me, his "lover" was not a real person. Never was. It was a divine love. Realizing this was so beautiful to me. It was about a love for oneself. Learning to love yourself. Yea, that is what Dan taught me . To love myself. It is not a selfish love. It is divine. Divine itself was a new word for me. He taught me "divine". Gratitude. He is not a "god" to me. He is a very human being. With a very real life. So, I keep my distance, out of respect. Manners, respect, cautious, quiet. My 4. He is real. In a unreal world. Reality? It's your choice. Make it what you want it to be. Damn. What can I say??? Lucky? I don't know. All I know is that I was very fortunate to come across this beautiful creature. No more pretenses. The world is one large "theatre". We choose the characters. They are what we need them to be. Once, in a lifetime, theatre takes 2nd place, and we are truly who we are. Free.

Change

3' x 4' "Wildflowers" Acrylic on canvas with ink

This week has been full of "change" at my work. Meetings were held. Changes were made. Lots of negativity flying around. Resistance to "change". Today, alot of closed doors. I have been smudging. I am grateful that our CEO allowed me to hang one of my paintings outside of my office. One of my friends/co-worker commented that my painting looked like a field full of wildflowers. Very vibrant, full of life, full of color. Positive energy.

One of the RN's, who is also an ordained minister, is going through a personal crisis. Her husband was diagnosed with cancer. When I saw her for the first time after receiving the news, I hugged her. I told her I did not know what else I could do. She replied, "just pray". I told her I did not pray. Suddenly, I wondered, with her being a minister, how she would respond. She responded with, "then just stay bubbly". Today, she walked into my office, and said, "I need a bubbly hug". She is one of the sweetest, most courageous women I know. She stays "bubbly", in spite of life's difficulties! She is truly blessed.

Whispered Words

"Work In Progress"

16" x 20" Acrylic on canvas with tulip leaves & petals

Late at night


after a flight


whispered words


begin to stir


connection made


will he have his way


will they mate?





Magic of mystery


magic of wonder


magic of unknown





As energy surrounds her


without boundaries


will she take that leap


into the deep?

Kiss

I found it very odd to be found at "Gold Rush" kissing a drummer. Yet, it all made sense. Sometimes a kiss will reveal what you don't want nor need. Enlightens truth.

Softly Binding Kiss

Jonathon, a musician. He came to me from "my space". He read my words. He read my paintings. His song, "Softly Binding Kiss" came to him after meeting me. He texted me the whole song. He said, "I hope you know this song is about our first kiss" (we had not kissed yet). He took the power to bring him materialistic . His "song" sold to Jeff Beck. I think that is his name. Yet, I am told, "yes, he is "big time". He used the power. I think the thing about power, is, to know that you have it, yet choose not to use it. "Power is not kind. Only takes you up or down" from Dan. Love lost.

Found myself in the bookstore reading "Dante: Comedy of Love". Yea, that was it. Amazing to read something you have experienced yourself. Makes sense. Damn. It just makes sense. So fullfilling to read it. Knowing that "yea, it happened", thank you for putting it into words.

Darkness

After corresponding with darkness yesterday, it is so incredibly amazing that I use to live that life. What Dan told me, "morbid minds cannot read the signs", rings oh so true!!!

Lizard

18" x 24" Acrylic on canvas with ink

A lizard crept into my life...

More Tulips

Scherie brought me more tulips this morning. It was a strange sorta day. Will blog more later when it settles in.

My Flowers

Tulips At Work

Scherie brought me these flowers from her garden this morning. When she had picked them, they were closed. Funny how a closed tulip resembles a penis. Then suddenly, they begin opening up to become the most beautiful flower with an amazing sweet scent!

Snowbird

Acrylic on Canvas 24" x 18"

I was wondering where the birds went during all the natural disasters. It seems like they just knew it was time to fly away. They knew the storms were coming. Anyway, my mom sent me a card with a bird on it. I send my sons money, my mom sends me money... it just seems to recirculate...money. As long as my bills are paid, I am happy. Ok, anyway, this painting came from a very deep meaning.

Peanut Butter

As a child, peanut butter
savored on my tongue
rung and rung
with all its fun

Imagine this
lick of a kiss
ooey gooey
peanut butter

Now
with sparkling desires
love radiating through my heart
human touches
licking my lips
as I enjoy
the sweet, sweet taste
of peanut butter

Tornado

Close to 4:00 p.m. today, my company announced we were to go to our "safe place". A tornado warning. No, my daughter gets out of school at 2:45. She had been waiting there for me for awhile now. I grabbed my things, told the receptionist, "I have to go get Beth". The storm was horrific. I could not see. I had no idea where my vehicle was heading. The rain came down in sheets. My SUV was blowing everywhere. I called for my angels, "Please surround my vehicle and get me safely to my daughter". Suddenly, there were large waters upon the road. I discovered "flash water flooding". My whole vehicle was consumed. Again, I called out, "Please surround my angels to get me to my daughter safely". As the tornado sirens were piercing, I drove through it. I picked up my daughter and we managed home. As soon as I got home, I turned on the t.v. to see where the "tornado" had touched down right where I was. My son called. There was only music and chanting on the other end. He later called to tell me that he was in class. An Indian group were there dancing and chanting. Knowing that my great grandmother was full blooded Cherokee Indian, he knew I would enjoy listening. Yes, my great grandmother was full blooded Cherokee. My angels. What a day!

After the storm today I went outside to check on my flowers. The light which shined was my solar light. It would not photograph. Had to add "flash" to grab this picture. The picture before was only of the solar light.

My Life

So many people have asked me questions about "my story". I've posted it before, and then turned around and deleted. This is my past. Today, I live in the present. My present has requested my past. So I no longer have to verbally express/repeat this story, here it is. Now, all I have to say is, "read my blog".

“The Ballads of the Barefoot Mind” by Daniel Dutton http://www.dandylandmuse.blogspot.com/ ) was also ‘performed’ by myself. The ballads began for me with the lyrics to “True Thomas”. I lived that magical kiss. Here is “my story”:

When I was playing as a child with a neighbor boy, he was 16 years old, I was maybe 5, more than likely younger, (that in itself, the wording of the very first sentence leaves room for speculation); this teenager said to me, “I will give you fifty cents if you will let me touch your vagina with my penis”. At this time, I am wondering, did he really use the words vagina and penis? Maybe I added those words as I got older. Funny, how a story can change over time. All I truly remember today is, “wow, I can buy candy”. So I told my mother. I was so proud to show her my fifty cent piece. It did not go over very well. The neighbor boy no longer came around. I did not understand what I had done wrong.

As I grew older, my speech was not developing properly. I could not pronounce my “s’s” or my “r’s”. The other children would make fun of me. I had to go to a speech therapist. As I write these words, I am watching myself, back in time, sinking into myself. I was sinking into my own little imaginary world where I only lived.

Throughout the entirety of my life, I was afraid to speak. I was raised in a southern Baptist Church. Perhaps this memory of the church life should fit between the molestation and speech disability. As I recall my experiences with the church, as the pattern continues, it was fear. Fear of a god I did not know nor understand. Fear of speech which, it appeared, no one could understand me. I used tears and a big “NO” as my defense mechanism. In the Sunday school class, we had to remember scriptures and say them out loud. I would cry and my father would have to come and get me and he would take me to his class with him where I could sit quietly, unnoticed. It seemed a very odd thing to me that our minister wanted to baptize me. The only thing I knew about baptism was being ‘dunk’ under water. My mother had already tried to make me take swimming lessons whereas the very first lesson we were to go into the water, face first. No. I cried. As to the baptism, “NO”, no one was going to force my head under water. Shortly after, my family no longer attended church.

As one can only imagine, my life through school was a pretense. This constant fear of voice lived inside of me. I was the popular, the party girl; in reality, totally misunderstood. So, of course, my love of nature itself grew. I had no desire for my intellect to grow. At 16, the summer before my senior year, I wed. I was pregnant as I graduated from high school. Was I pregnant before the marriage? No. The marriage lasted only 18 months. It was a terrible abusive situation. The cycle recreated itself in my husband’s family. Yet, I found myself pregnant after the separation. Therefore, my first son is born.

As I am writing this today, it would be easier to run from it. The pain and the memory of those years are quite vivid. Yet, there is ‘something’ inside of me that is telling me, “a voice lives inside of you for a reason, use it”.

The picture I would like to paint here is very ugly. It is a scene of vulgar words, fists, objects hitting face, knife in self defense of a very pregnant child, black eyes, hidden bruises, with no self esteem. It is the scene of dignity being sucked out of a little girl with a grown up, pregnant body. Did this little girl just lie down and die? No. She would fall but she would always get up fighting. She had a human life inside of her to protect. When that human life was born, and his precious little life was threatened, she said, “no more”.

By no means, at this time, did I feel capable of raising this child alone. I was 18 years old. I was very fortunate. As much as my parents did not understand me, they helped me with my baby. They were there for him when I was not able. At the time, all I knew was “I can’t do this”. I had enough sense to know that my baby deserved better. So what did I do? I married a second time. I needed love. I needed proof that I was loveable. As I see this today, I needed, at that time, love of myself to survive. I found it, for awhile. During this time frame, I played the role of the happily married wife.

Again, this is very difficult to relive. I wonder, at this point, why does anyone want to look back at pain and heartaches?

This section in my life lasted 3 years. During this period, I was able to get a federal grant and attend a program where I learned business skills. Yet, as life was moving on, I, the person living inside of me, was not. I was working for the State of NC at a mental retardation facility. It appeared all was well. Something was missing. I still did not feel ‘complete’. This marriage consisted of hidden secrets. Before our marriage, my husband had served in the Air Force during the Vietnam War. He was discharged as a paranoid schizophrenic. Our marriage ‘relived’ portions of this war. We divorced. Perhaps, this was part of ‘my plan’ all along. I was able to build myself up to the point where I needed no one to survive. I could take care of my son and myself. What was missing? I went back to church searching for that ‘something’ which was missing. I was baptized. The baptism did not complete me.

What was this force guiding me? As I am telling this story of my second marriage, I realized I have left out quite a bit. It appears darkness will linger.

As I assume my role here again as a writer re-telling a story, it appears to be how the facts of the story are true, if you are not a liar, yet, truth speaks for itself. Where would this story originate from if I did not experience it? If anyone were actually interested in true facts, this story can be retraced. The feelings involved in telling this story can only be retraced by the person who experienced it.

Now, I am at my third marriage. This marriage lasted 19 years. In order to tell this whole story would totally wipe me out. In short, today, I am the survivor of domestic violence. A cycle began shortly after my birth. I have three children, two grandchildren.

One of the wonderful features of computers, you can add or delete at any time, anywhere. It just occurred to me that I should probably add that I was raped by a stranger 5 months after my third marriage. The reason for exposing this is shaping. Imagine being married only briefly to someone whom you have promised to love and cherish for the rest of your life and this person is raped. How would you feel knowing her body was touched viciously by a total stranger? How would you feel knowing all of your own, sacred personal sexual desires for the love of your life were shared uninvitingly by a stranger? Would you wonder if your beloved somehow asked for it? Would you wonder if she enjoyed it? Now focus your attention on the person being raped. This is fact through the eyes of the person being raped. As a complete stranger was about to penetrate my whole world, sheer fear entered. My life was threatened. What did I do? I left that body. As if the rape itself was not horrific, my new fear was in explaining this to my new husband. All my fears came true. He accused me. I was the one to blame. According to him, it was my fault. This rape stayed alive in our marriage for 19 years. As soon to be recognized, he made sure I would never forget that I was raped.

Now as I ponder that rape, what is the difference between being raped by a total stranger and someone you love?

What does this have to do with Daniel Dutton and the Ballads? It is ending cycles. How? The Ballad of True Thomas ending with the Ballad of Tam Lin.
This is the beginning of a whole new story. Many years ago, Mr. Dutton had a vision. His vision, in my eyes, was for ending violence. Through his art, his paintings, he created “The Secret Commonwealth” consisting of four operas. This is where I am hesitant to reveal the whole story. It is very personal and very private. It seems there is no other way to re-tell this story without revealing the facts. Here are the facts:

For 19 years, I lived in a lie. I pretended that all was well. I realized today, my life had been shaped, almost pre-destined, to be a victim. This is why I have to tell this story today. This marriage consisted of some of the darkest of darkest that no one wants to hear. At this point, one will have to use their own imagination for I have children and grandchildren to protect. After this statement, the children and grandchildren are the reason for this, what shall I call it, awakening?

Back to the facts, as married, I met a musician who was performing in Mr. Dutton’s operas. He was my husband’s supervisor. We became friends. What this man did not realize was, he was saving my life. He was a link to the breaking of a cycle. He, at the time, was my “True Thomas”. I would fantasize about this wonderful human being, who, against my husband’s will, was befriending me. I was discovering that my life, the way it existed, was not the way life was intended to be. Everything I thought I knew about life seemed to be unreal. It appeared as though my whole life had been a lie. I was living a lie. It was almost as if a struggle were taking place within me. There was a magnet forcing me to seek out this man. It was as if he had that ‘something’ I had been searching for all of my life. We were never alone. Our friendship was not sorted. I only saw this man in my husband’s presence. The only lie we lived was one magical kiss. This kiss led me to start telling the truth. I stopped being a ‘cover-up’ for domestic violence. Domestic violence is not just physical abuse. It entails emotional, psychological, and verbal abuse as well. When a person is living inside this vicious cycle, it blinds that person to the truth. As I would learn later, through Mr. Dutton, “morbid minds cannot read the signs”.

Again, it is difficult, or a better word, hard to re-live this story. There is a purpose for it. Doesn’t everyone have a purpose for being?

This began my search for truth. My children and I suffered through a terrible reality of truth. Lies became more lies. Life itself became so twisted and so entangled. In short, divorce through the courts. It was a total loss of control of our lives. It included not only our lives, but touched every life touching our life. The musician, my only link to reality, left town. My greatest fear was that loss of communication. He was the only person who knew the truth.

At this time, I began domestic violence counseling. I returned to the church. My children and I were struggling with not only emotional issues but financial problems as well. We were hanging on by a thread. Instead of going back to a Baptist church, this time, I attended a non-denominational church. It was awesome. This church was alive. The pastor was young and a musician himself. The singing which took place in this church was incredible. Then one night, the pastor asked for those in need of healing to come up front. The music was playing loudly. One could sense the spirits in this room. As the pastor laid his hands on my head, I went down. It was as if a lightening rod soared through my entire body. Time had stood still. When I arose, the peacefulness was overwhelming. I had tears of joy running down my cheeks. I had laughter which would not end. The following day, I was overtaken with a sense of sorrow. It was as if I had consumed every soul in the universe. I had been born again.

From this point on, I lived the scriptures in the bible. I was on a mission to “save the world”. As I tried “saving” my friend, the musician, he suddenly disappeared out of my life. I had entered a state of confusion/chaos. This led me to Mr. Dutton and back to his opera, “The Road” – as he points out, “morbid minds cannot read the signs”.

Being in the church, I thought I knew everything. I was protected. I was living by the laws of God. I was living by the laws of the scriptures. What I began noticing was, everything Mr. Dutton and myself were speaking of, or rather emailing about, my pastor was speaking of the same during his sermons. How could this be? Was my pastor reading my thoughts? Was he reading my email?

This brings to mind another memory. One morning shortly after the disappearance of my friend, I was driving to my weekly counseling session, and I could not ‘sense’ God. I cried out in desperation, “God, where are you?” At that exact moment, as I passed by a church, the answer was on the billboard. It read, “Can you see me now? God.”

My musician friend had spoken often of the opera he was performing in. He had promised to show us tapes. He said we were the only ones who would “get it”. I had investigated the opera before on the internet. Missing my friend desperately, searching for clues to why he deserted me, I came across “True Thomas”.

“The Ballad Project” – poor Mr. Dutton. He did not know, or perhaps he did, what he was getting himself into when he responded to my e-mail. In summary, I told him I could totally relate to True Thomas. The short version was, how I was married to the bad guy, the prince came along with his magical kiss, the kiss of truth, and I was able to cross over the boundary to a new world. This began my journey with Mr. Dutton in 2004. In summary, I traveled through Mr. Dutton’s operas throughout this time frame. It began on “The Road”. Patiently, lovingly, Mr. Dutton allowed my feelings to submerge. My own wonder of “The Stone Man” kept my thoughts on Mr. Dutton himself. It was as if my life had been cut in two. One life was healing, one discovering. We made our way to “Love & Time”. More than anything, in my life, I wanted to be myself and be loved. As I attached to Mr. Dutton, housecleaning was taking place inside. During these processes, I was also listening to Mr. Dutton’s music and studying his operas.

Through Mr. Dutton’s operas, I relived my life in its entirety. I was able to make sense out of a life that did not make sense. This is why I summarized my entire life in the beginning of this story. Even though it appeared to begin with “True Thomas”, actually it began at the very beginning with “Stone Man”. Mr. Dutton patiently cleaned out my imagined past, while at the same time, created his paintings for “The Ballads”. Mr. Dutton’s operas, and his beautiful voice and magical music, helped to restore my whole being, and a cycle was broken.

Today, I continue following Mr. Dutton’s art, which opens up and brings so much more clarity than I could have ever imagined! And no, I have no religion, beliefs, other than nature. I do believe in trust, in commitments. Humanity. Do not promise if you cannot deliver. My promises are sacred. Trust. The universe will deliver. Is there a divine guide? Yes!