I remember ….

9-26-2010

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I REMEMBER

Friday Catch up Day

i remember when i  had a catch up day friday
recycling plastics and cardboard
deposited checks and one not taken
picked up jerry at the subaru repair shop on 82nd
breakfast at besaws
goodwill  dragon rug and basket
jerry back to car
me resting in car by library
shopping
freddy  waste basket  lint roller  art stuff
lunch at chinese gardens
goodwill new clothes new me new colors
dinner at paparazzi one of best ever
home
hurry to unpack
taking Cedar out to pee now and then  pee on sidewalk

pick one two three

I remember going out to eat three times in one day    i never remember that happening in this way before    left early in the morning depositing checks in a machine returning them because one was torn  driving through recycling and meeting jerry where he left his Subaru for repair  lets have breakfast he says   Besaws is great  noisy cafe filled with people talking  chattering of dishes  warm smells of eggs and potatoes, sweetness  coffee   shall i remain raw and choose fruit or order something else   i choose farmers hash with eggs and potatoes dotted with sweet caramelized onion and accentuated with pungent dark green arugula and topped with cheddar cheese   it leaves me feeling heavy and tired   later on after noon i dine on some little pockets of veggies at the chinese gardens delicate and light accompanied by sweet winter melon my favorite drink there  still do not know quite what it contains  and small delicate sweet coconut in a little crust  ahh looking out the window at the gardens slowly the afternoon.    late that evening driving home have an argument with spirit insisting i eat again at a new restaurant in a little town  ahh  ahh one of the best meals of chicken breast and shrimp with a cream and mustard sauce over perfectly done veggies green beans tomatoes, mushrooms and onions   I took time to let the staff know I felt I had been honored by partaking of such delicious food  used a piece of bread to soak up the last of the sauce on my plate not wanting to leave one drop of sauce on the plate

For more reading on my writing and talking to my friend Sheila http://writingforhealing.com/bread-soaking-up-and-giving-life/

each sentence could become a writing ……

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later on …

I remember… last night i watched a very haunting movie and woke up several times last night  …  Mockingbird Don’t Sing

In watching the movie I remembered living through it the actual event when my son was born! I remember the TV coverage and the father killing himself the day of the trial. I remembered seeing or hearing glimpses….  i could not get her pictures our of mind  ….

being tied to a potty chair from the age of 20 months, naked except for  a diaper ..sometimes put in a straight jacket and laid in a baby crib with chicken wire on the top   beaten and growled at if she made noise and fed baby foods and pablum for almost 12 years of her life, a prisoner in a room with foil on the windows and a mentally ill father abusive to her mother and brother as well

i remember going on line afterwards searching for what happened to her after she was in several foster homes, severely abused because she could not be “normal” enough to be accepted …  it makes me wonder what IS normal   i keep going around and around wondering about this and how we treat each other and society and how we separate out those who are not acceptable to what we define as “normal” and who decides this and these things    how about the brother no one talks about ….. five years older …raised by his grandmother to protect him until she was hit by a truck and dragged down the street in front of him and killed and he was back in this home again… he was also beaten and beaten

then I remembered even more   a very distinct and painful memory  wondering why i did not say more   why my parents did not say more and i guess no one knows not being these people   i remember playing with a neighborhood boy named Carl Sherman when I was about 10 or 11 years old. He was about my age or a year or so younger. We went to school together and played with out group of friends.  One day for some reason we went in his house when his parents were gone. It could have been to go to the bathroom or something.  I started to open a wrong door and he stopped me.  Later he said he would show me what was in there, and I could tell no one or he would get in big trouble.  He told me his sister lived in that room, however, she never came out.  He would sometimes go in there and roll a ball back and forth to her, as I remember.  I think she was four or five years old. The room was completely black.  There was paper or something over all the windows. I remember I could tell there was something moving, yet there was no talking.  It hurt me to my soul.  I could not understand it at all. He just said there was something wrong with her.  I always wondered what happened to her.  At that age, I had no concept of calling the police or reporting anyone and today I so wish to understand if I was being shown that for a reason. I did tell my parents and I imagine they thought I was exaggerating. They also did not know Carl’s parents.  I don’t know anyone who did, as I remember. They kept to themselves a lot.

so I guess this story is haunting me to bring up memories   memories leading me back to the question WHAT IS LOVE ASKING ME

remember it says   the world needs more LOVE  …  you saw the movie   you remembered the other little child locked away in a dark room   you can assume there are many more   neglected children in need of love and light    bring them some light  release them from this bondage by bringing light to them every day    sending them love and light and knowing it makes a difference

remember love is needed   the little girl Genie  Susan Wiley needed love most of all   she was in need of someone giving her unconditional love regardless of how she acted how she responded to anything   loving her for the sake of loving her   yet she became a study case  people attempting to prove or disapprove their theories   love was a reward for speaking or learning to do things  they wanted to turn her into something “acceptable”  that would make them famous and her famous  they cared about her  she was genuine and real and had inside her a brilliant spark growing   there was a seed planted when she was released into her freedom  something which could have been nurtured and grown if she was loved   spent time with finding out what SHE wanted most  following her lead and her direction they would have had great success   the challenge was they all thought they knew better  they were the experts determined to transform the wild child into a brilliant child because they knew better   just one more lesson  one more test  one more reason to make her into something other than what she was

innocent and beautiful  lovely charming  overlooking her spitting and running around   her confusion   she wanted to learn  she would point at things and want to know what they were had they allowed her to learn at her own pace   things which brought her the most joy   it would have transformed humanity

the lesson love gives you Morgine is to always allow things their own space to be authentically themselves  when you interrupt the butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon, it becomes deformed, never flies and it dies.  adults forget … Children are your TEACHERS regardless of how deformed and mentally challenged they are. Note how little Susan was so excited about learning things when she was left alone.  She wanted to know the names of things.  She would touch and feel things as if she were blind. She spent those many years blind, sitting in a darkened room.  Someone taught her sign language.  Think about this.  She had been punished for making noise, so this was simply a much safer way to communicate than attempting to teach her speech after being so brutally beaten for years for making noise.  You do not erase the abuse and trauma merely by teaching someone to speak.  She was such a curiosity they totally overlooked what might be going on inside her mind, nightmares, the conditioning patterns of her abuse still running through her life.

Just remember, allowing life to flow through you.  Allow things to always be fresh and new and exciting.  Allow these children, all of them, to remind you awe and wonder are only a change in perception.  If they spent more time observing and following an entire new world would have opened up.  Instead they attempted to mold her into something “they thought she could be” and they would be proud of, and they would be looked up to for their grand achievements. They were afraid to allow her to lead the way and for that lack of courage, milestones were lost all the way around ….

One Response to “I remember ….”

  1. Bread Soaking Up and Giving Life Says:

    […] WRITING CAMP, my friend Morgine Jurdan wrote and read about a delectable meal she recently had. Beautifully described, missing, for me, was the bread soaking up sauce part she […]

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