Swamp Marsh Journal

Waking up dead : not a Sookie Stackhouse novel

2010-06-15T05:17:00.000-07:00

Swamp Marsh Journal
In playing around with my setup, I lost it would seem, my content. Hopefully, I can just go back to my choices of what to share on the page, my dashboard, and put the lost content back on the blog.

I have had a most joyous and cool spring and summer, though, dealing with heart disease and the chronic other that I deal with and have for about 15 years now. I can also now look forward to a new school year, without fear, as I see that people in positions that matter, care that I get placed somewhere that it will work out. For it not to work out, is a blight on them, if you ask me. Any good administrator, as a model, should also assume mentorship. I have been told I would be assigned to a position in which a good structure is in place. I am grateful for this extension of my career into another year and a chance to demonstrate that I can teach, and teach well. To me, that means bring out the best in every student.

I am grateful also for the remaining days of summer. Dealing with this newfound, and unidentified "defect" in the septum of my heart, has me a little bit sick in my stomach until I know more the outcome. I will know that next Friday the 25th, if I don't wake up dead.

I see images in clouds, and trees

2010-06-02T22:18:00.000-07:00

I have recently been enjoying this site, http://www.sparkpeople.com/myspark/community_home.asp
just found on LifetimeTV...It's interactive and very social, which I don't have so much time for but I can drop in once I week and try to keep up my part of the social bargain. That is, if I can remember my passwords. One of the newest problems for the middle aged (weaned on IBM Selectrics) who can use a computer now, can't remember their passwords.

I have been snapping away with my little camera. Both my phone and camera have taken a beating, so I can recommend either brand for their sturdiness, despite their ragged appearances. It is amazing to me that the scenery can change from moment to moment throughout the day and from my view I can see that any time I wish. Dolphin are the most fun to try to capture a photo of. By the time you hear them come up the first time they are already back down into the water. If you are lucky you may catch a glimpse of a tail.

If I am fortunate enough to see them on their first or second surge upwards and out of the water, I usually will see them dance down the river coming up and out of the water and back down at least three to four times total, sometimes more. At some point, though, they tend to go deep and come up some 20 seconds away or more. I have captured them many times now on video and still shot. I still love it everytime I spot one.

I have spent many hours on my deck just looking over the water that flows about twice a day. It flows one way for several hours until it stops and stills itself, and that last some time; then, it flows the other direction for many more hours. That alone has been an amazing thing to witness. The play on light, as I often say, is the most visually interactive form of art ever. Each day is tanalizing to gaze at...the changing clouds, the changing hues and values, the surface of the water, the texture of those things that grow all around. The sounds and smells that accompany all of these things. Who needs human entertainment, when I have this great beauty at my disposal?

And last, though I would not say I am an obsessive animal person, I do have to say that for the first time, out of the animals I have had in my life, my two adopted cat and dog, who I think of as brother and sister, have made a solid difference in my life. Some people reach middle age with no one to comfort them, and a loyal pet can help to restore peoples' souls. So it is less about the animal, to my mind, and more about us. I have been understood and "felt" by my pets, when humans did not have it in them to offer help on the deep emotions I've had at times on and off.

I am every so thankful to the HHI Humane Society for connecting me with the owner of my girl, a Yorkie; and Holly Zuzak of Three Black Dogs for letting me take home my precious boy, Diego. He has gone from a stressed "sketchy" cat, with skin problems to a healthy happy river cat free to climb trees and study the small creatures that roam the creek bank.

I try to work on my research for the short story I am forming on paper and in my head. I am trying to decide on the years I will cover and have narrowed it to 1750-1800 because there are all kinds of dramatic events erupting. I have to keep going beginning tomorrow. Almost an autobio is forming. I have three pages...

So far I have not turned on my A/C and am proud of that. The weather has cooperated by remaining somewhat cool with a breeze here on the waterfront. However my body has suffered with perspiration pouring down my skin and finding its way into places it ought not be found. My dog licks my legs cause I'm salty all over. I am showering a couple times a day, just to cool down to normal body temperature. Besides, I'm fat and that is not a good summer state to be in.

It has been coming on a rain shower this evening, begining before dark and coming from the northwest. You could see the sheets of rain like stalks supporting large puffy mushroom heads on their tops.

Let me just kick back with this rain and thunder and lightning...

Beautiful Agony

2010-05-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

The title of my novel :: I hope to submit at least 50 pages for consideration by a few publishers. Hopefully someone I know will know someone and show up on the scene. haha if you think that happens. Anyway, I'm in the middle of Sue Monk Kidd's novel, written actually by both she and her daughter. This novel is so well written. Both of them are marvelously skillful in turning their insides out for us to cipher for ourselves. Coming to know her Jungian application of her life's insights the reader comes to identify and define herself based on a similar set of archetypes. I, as reader, marked my own life according the phases of the archtype of Mary, mother. And I would stop there, and just say, mother. The inward journies of the two women who travel together, while they make emotional contact in the beauty of what they see and what it means, made for a deeply satisfying read.

While all of women will, I think, experience all of these archetypes sooner or later, I would not have known them in the way I know them now, if it weren't for Sue and Ann Kidd's attunement to what went forth before them. Beginning with the symbolism of iconic images as they toured, they took the psychological dive into metaphors and found themselves faced with the human fears few of us desire to wrestle with. Only halfway through Traveling with Pomegranates and I am awed by the threads Su and Ann weave in their proactive work to dig for the bones and put themselves together. Seems akin to our thought of "reinvention."

Sue's link of death to life's exercises in loss, that end up as loss of "self", made me feel as it did Sue, a bit more embracing of the concept of death. Going fighting and screaming will be difficult I suppose, but none the less, all will go. After her visit to the island of the Gavilry and the tumulus, she sealed in her mind the connection that letting go of this place would take one into the womb. Womb to tomb, she said. I've heard it before, that phrase. She wasn't sure she made it up.

When a writer can change your life, your outlook, your belief in yourself (from beat to conqueror) then that writer is a wordsmith and a phsychologist, an artist, and an accomplice to your self in changing what you know and believe, perhaps even, in co-creating a new reality that you can live with for awhile.

Larrain's Photograhy

2010-05-24T07:36:00.000-07:00

This is a new photo album I am posting on Picasa for my friends and for my followers on Swamp Marsh Journal to see. This is a reflection of what I see on a daily basis. I am so blessed. Just click on the photo here to see the album!

I wrote an entry. Is this some entry eating machine? It wants another!

2010-05-15T11:53:00.001-07:00

Read the above.

in reference to: http://spotted.blufftontoday.com/photos/index.php?id=1728148 (view on Google Sidewiki)

Farmers Market May 15 2010

2010-05-15T11:32:00.001-07:00

A delightfufl spring day, early at about 10:30 and 11:00 a.m. Pleasantness was palpable among those who strolled and shopped and sat and snacked, in the shaded park on Ribault Road in Port Royal. Always colorful, a farmer's market draws a sweet crowd of people. I was excited to see a couple fellows who were handsomely weathered in their straw hats, and through their hands they transferred along the love that went into growing those fuits and vegetables the customers bought. Otis Draiser brought bright red tomatos and I bought 4 looking forward to some soft white bread (I like Sunbeam, or Wonderbread) and some salt and pepper, for a sliced tomato sandwich. Southern Living ain't got nothin' on us Southerners. We don't tell them about the good stuff. (Think, Moonpies) Enjoy the day with me through my photos of the Farmers Market in Port Royal, SC.

in reference to: http://spotted.blufftontoday.com/photos/index.php?id=1728148 (view on Google Sidewiki)

Taking responsiblity: confession of a toxic procrastinator

2010-05-11T05:12:00.000-07:00

Ah, finally some breathing room. There is no excuse not to do all the things I have in the past procrastinated from doing. I am dealing with procrastination as an old friend who needs to go now. She has been a drain on me. I have to recognize her for who she is and give her the boot, so to speak.

It has taken me two years of living in the ditches that I have dug as a result of procrastination. I know it is a toxic level of procrastination, because it made me sick. I could think of 7 to 11 ;-) things I NEEDED to, SHOULD do, and the more of them I thought of, the sicker I got. I felt overwhelmed. I felt like i was inside of a big math problem, boxed inside the problem, and I couldn't figure the way out. So things just piled up around me.

After allowing myself to feel the weight of the results of my decisions, I finally came around. I made a positive move, one I dreamed of and I believe was fulfilled through my faith, and took hold of my environs. Am I completely cured of procrastination? No. I have my moments when decisions overwhelm me again. But there are ways to cope and conquer this feelings.

JUST GET UP & DO SOMETHING

1. There is always of trail of "things" wherever I have been! I can follow the trail, pick things up, and deposit them in proper places.
2. If there ARE no proper places, then one must be made.
3. There should be nothing on the floor but the carpet and rugs. Take care of that.
4. Kitchen should ALWAYS be clean. Clean all dishes throughout the day. Keep countertops clean.
5. It is good to have a "made bed." Change sheets at least once per week. It's wonderful & keeps the bedbugs from sleeping with you. Air your bed and pillows as often as possible.
6. Organization should be apparent, even to me! LOL
7. Don't take yourself seriously. But remember that your life is a valuable gift & you deserve to live the richness of it and all the tasks that are part of enjoying it.
8. Find or create a place to "chillax" with a glass of Arizona pomegranite green tea.

Chalk on the Walk Link

2010-05-10T12:42:00.000-07:00

This shows my work on this day as a high schooll art teacher. We enjoyed participating together in this even, and learned a great deal.

http://spotted.blufftontoday.com/photos/index.php?id=1710198&page=1

Beaufort woman gets stuck in mud | islandpacket.com

2010-05-04T11:50:00.000-07:00

After my "pluff mud" story, and knowing I'm hoping to get my own
kayak this week, this is more than a little bit interesting!! LOL

Beaufort woman gets stuck in mud islandpacket.com

Dos Animales

2010-03-21T09:23:00.000-07:00

Diego & DiOnna :: chacha in the house

Cha-cha I used to describe their energy in my house. They have proven to me that pets can be healing and sometimes, too human-like and demanding. Diego has definiely decided he is house-daddy and has the means to press his message. Dionna is just the most loving of me ever....she knows who is boss so doesn't press it too badly. She's a very good Yorkie except for being highly demanding of my attention.

Anyways, we, the trio on Joshua's Landing, are doing finely....holding our own, running on the edge of outlaw, (JOKE) but we are working on getting everything straight so I can de-stress over deadlines missed, and forms not completed, money that could have been made or saved if not for Procrastination and Denial.

Happy chacha in your own house...Let me know if you happen to read me!

The River of Redemption

2010-03-21T07:46:00.000-07:00

The washing of daily life down the river of time is a beauty to behold. I've been sitting riverside, on the Beaufort River's Northeastern banks and felt time slow down these past two days. Stress has faded. Yet, my goals are clearly there and I am feeling better about taking on some challenges...

The river this morning at about 7:30 was like glass, steely, blues and grays by the myriads, shining like alien jewels. In the distance marsh hens or white wader birds took off each flying solo, graduatedly, one behind the other. A woodpecker lives in this neighborhood as do doves, and I even think I hear an owl (I get owls sounds mixed up with dove sounds).

I photographed the horizon line where the river met the sky and merged into one visually indistinguashable body of river and sky. These visions are what have been calling me calling me calling me. Feasts for my eyes, a gracious gift of Allah.

He heard my call for specifically some place where I could heal in my mind.

My animals are wonderful. Diego and DiOnna love it here, I'm sure they would answer me if I asked. They sit close to me now, DiOnna laying on the floor to my left and Diego sitting in front of me, near my left leg. He seems to be looking out he door into the trees and he also seems peaceful.

They have the run of the entire length of the place with no blocks, only an obstacle course of open or shut doors to all the little rooms. Diego skids across he kitchen floor when they're running through.

Swamp Marsh Woman

1st night riverside, rains,

2010-03-21T07:32:00.000-07:00

and now, it's 6 days later, a Saturday, raining again on the river but just enough to soak new plantings of yard annuals and saturate the exposed bottoms of bushes just freed from winter debris. Now, ready for annuals.

That was yesterday actually, because today is Sunday and I am picking up where I left off.

I have to wash dishes, change sheets and figure out what's wrong with Diego who threw up on my comforter and sheets this a.m. I only know this because he just threw up again on my area rug in here. GEEZ.....same stuff.. I wonder if he has eaten something bad in the house? It's no telling, but he has thrown up a lot already, this morning and just now. Clear liquid. Eating? hmmm, I'll have to see.

and just when you think all is well, you get that mother's most feared and never wanted to get phonecall that your daughter is hurt. 24 yo, first day out of colorado and in the company of her future husband, boyfriend, or kidnapper! God, how do I know. She calls and says she's been to the hospital and had a CT scan and she is fine but suffered minor concussions (Like all over her head!!!) and the story just doesn't hold a lot of water. And Jamal wih 20 stitches in his cheek and 7 on the inside of his cheek? That's a hard hit and he's a big and tall guy. How could this happen? My biggest fear was that on the cruise she and he might meet up with harm, as I hear so many of the places are dangerous. But I was assured that both could take care of themselves. This tells me whatever the circumstances more than one person had to do this damage or neither were in any state of being to take care of themselves.

oh my anyway, as I said, just the day I was most happy and thought it couldn't better, my daughter tells me this....and I can't get to her to help her and really don't know where she is and where she is going. She said I am on her emergency contact list.

Well, as a mom, just pray safety and big angels over her. It is so peaceful over here hopefully I can stay in some level of awareness and prayer and it's all I can do. She is of age, and they are supposedly getting married at some point in the near future...or so it is told.

So, I got my eyes on you boy.....take care of my daughter...she is the only one I have.

Jackknifeing from the superhighway to the sink and my dishes,

later

You can have a fairy name! Mine suits me to a Zzzzzz

2010-03-09T17:46:00.000-08:00

Your fairy is called Feather Elfwitch

She is a cheerful sprite.

She lives in high places where the clouds meet the earth.

She is only seen in the enchanted moment between sleep and waking.

She wears pale blue like the sky. She has delicate green wings like a cicada.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Strange thing about that is that the best part of my days are my nights.

My dreams are like tripping through alternate universes all night.

The curiosity is how I can seem so far away and right here at the same time.

Yet, I seem to "land" or become awake and aware at a specific moment, like a time traveler's arrival.

So, ok, it also explains my true adoration for feathers.

Enjoy

The Pluff Mud Incident

2009-12-30T16:26:00.000-08:00

Though the wind had a bite to it, DiOnna and I repeated our walk to the "Sands" again today. DiOnna is so great at staying close to me if I make that command. She loves to get out and poke her nose in everything. She also loves to chase seagulls and crows.

Today I took a bag of pecans in the shell and chose a squared piece of sea wall to sit down on. As soon as DiOnna heard the first crack of one shell against the other one in my hand, she was as close as her little lips could get to the pecan. She did not move for fear of missing a tidbit and I must have cracked more than a dozen before we had each had our fill.

As we sat, we watched the visitors to the beach bent obsessively over the clusters of oyster shells in their bed, some down on their knees with knee pads and onto their elbows, going for a better range to eyeball any potential finds, in particular, shark's teeth. I was told that in the thick of the oyster beds, with the tide at low, it is more likely a serious seeker can find a larger sized shark tooth than the baby ones found along the tide line. Indeed, a perservering little blond-headed girl, skinny as a rail, showed me her band-aid box of a good 10 or so baby shark's teeth. I concluded the best talent for finding shark's teeth is patience, next to the obvious gift of keen eyesight.

I sat on the cold concrete and wrapped my cherished blue Pashmina wool headscarf around my head and ears, tucking the remaining lengths beneath my chin. At just after 2 p.m. the wind was whipping not only my face and ears, but was creating a froth in the waves, leaving them whitecapped as they wrestled each other to get away from the shore as the tide struggled to find it's way out.

The sky was overcast and the grey day was enough to make me shiver, without the added wind from the northeast. I wondered at the growth of oyster shells in the exposed bed, how they they curled in the same pattern as most all things on earth seem to grow, as seen in the pattern of the pinecone. I couldn't help but compare the growth pattern to the same pattern I'd seen recently in a cluster of fungus or mushrooms, I'd seen on the courthouse lawn just down in the town. I took a picture of the fungus. Did I take a picture of the oysters growing?

I only found out the day before, that oysters need the hard shells of empty oysters to attach to in order to grow. For that reason, oysters already mined by hungry humans for their delicious content, are recycled by most communities like this one, back into the beds to facilitate further growth.

Before I was ready to trek back to the house, the sun came out and provided some much needed warmth and it added a bit of rosiness to my cheeks. Day 2 of this new outdoor adventuring and already I felt the benefits of the fresh air and exercise; but, not before the "pluff mud" incident. I always wondered exactly what pluff mud was. I had heard about it a few times since moving to the "Low Country." Until you experience it for yourself, though, it just sounds rather romantic. While it is pretty in paintings, if you step into it, you sink; and so, I did. The beautiful taupe colored mud ate up about six inches of the black suede of my boots, and a few inches of the hem of my CLEAN black jeans. Now, if anyone should want to know exactly what pluff mud is, I can tell them it is a lot like quicksand. The harder you try to get out of it, the more you sink.

I don't want to jinx this experience of outdoor adventuring by making it a resolution. I will just remember the exuberance that comes with with interacting with nature. That is motivation in itself to embrace the great outdoors with all its surprises.

DiOnna is exhausted. So am I.

Meeting myself face to face

2009-12-29T14:42:00.000-08:00

I headed down London Street to the "Sands" :: a small beach created by a dredging project years and years ago. My only goal was to get outside and give my dog a much deserved walk in the fresh air, new, marsh air. She jumed at the anticipated outing, seeing her pink rhinestone collar and leash being dangled in front of her. I could swear she was smiling!

As for me, I was a little bit dreading it, but I had opened my heart and mind to it after trying to get moved into my 2-room waterfront cottage over a six-weeks period of time. I had been newly diagnosed with heart disease, and was feeling it. It took me some time in bed, reading novel after novel, and ducking in and out of email to finally feel free enough to untangle myself from my bedcovers and face a bright but chilly day. It is December 29, 2009.

We headed down the moss-draped street, Sentry oaks guarding our way. DiOnna, my nimble yorkie did the usual yorkie things, nose to ground, squat, and so forth. She was pulling so hard on the leash she was choking herself, but I found her very responsive to the heel command at which time she would ease up, turn around, and walk beside me at my pace. Eager and excited, however, she would forget, and take off again. Soon, however, we found ourselves walking onto the longest boardwalk I could reme

mber seeing, and spotting our first dolphin, a sleek cylinder with fin upright diving down and coming up over and over as it worked its way through the fairly still water at high tide.

The view was impressive. The fresh air took my breath away. The sunshine was a blessing. I was so happy, my heart felt delight. All it took, I thought, was getting out of my comfort zone and moving into this beckoning world to feel the hand of my God upon my shoulder, and the healing had already begun.

I was so happy to walk the shoreline. I talked to a visitor from Alaska who was a specialist in fossils. He had a bag of shark teeth he had found already, and some bones. He showed me a little about fossils and soon, I found my own, a jawbone of a stingray. It was black and shiny, with many fine striations. A pattern only God could create.

We spent a couple of hours on the waterfront, DiOnna and I. I was surprised at my stamina and that I had no feeling that I was tired or needing to get inside. I was so awed at my enjoyment of this simple pleasure, of walking and breathing God's marsh air.

And as if the shark tooth and fossil I was carrying home in my pocket weren't enough; I was blown away by the full moon ascending in the sky as I made my way home. As this pale luminescent body made its way higher and higher as I walked, I saw it's shy reflection in the marshy waters. The rising moon would bring the tide higher. Simultaneously, I realized the sun had not yet gone down and that the two were almost facing each other on opposite sides of the sky. The sun was a runny egg, spreading its yellows and pale oranges across the western horizon.

I thought to myself. I need to come back in my car, and take the photos of the moon in the water. But, now I'm in bed again, getting warm after a hot shower. My cup of coffee is re-warmed from the morning, and my DiOnna is worn out and lying by my side, also getting warm.

Now I know. If I want to meet the me I want to be, again, she can be found down on the waterfront, on the shoreline picking through seashells, looking for shark's teeth, fossils, and shells that look like angel's wings.

Broken heart blues

2009-12-13T07:10:00.000-08:00

No, I haven't been jilted by a lover. My heart isn't aching of a nostalgic sentiment. For the first time in 54 years, I literally face death's beckoning finger and mocking grin. Of course, I know fear of an earthly end to life is what it is...an earthly thing. Once it's done, like the reversal of birth, a sucking back up into the vacuum from which we came, it's over...pain done...aches unmentionable and vanished...family ties lost without anguish.

No, my heart has literally betrayed me. Or, I've betrayed my heart. Whichever part of the circle you want to step onto and follow.

There is the left chamber. They say it is the most important, though the entire heart is important. My left chamber is infected with a virus that has, somehow, caused a Left Bundle Branch Block that has reduced my "ejection fraction" rate to half that of normal. This means the oxygenized blood I should be receiving throughout my body, is not coming in the proper amounts and in a reliably continuous fashion, and the result is Congestive Heart Failure.

What I wonder is whether they are telling me everything. Is it possible I could die at any time? My GP, Dr. Gaston Perez says I will be ok. That they rebuild some of the tissue and strengthen my heart with the right meds. So far, things HAVE improved. The EF has come up from 35 percent to mid forties according to the echo tech yesterday. My BP has dropped from 130 something over 80 or so, to 102 over 60 or so. That is good news, I know.

I have changed my life. I have moved out into the countryside (marshside to be more exact) in a small small town (seems like a village) and have simplified to the point of almost no belongings. Why bother my children with excess baggage? I have my Yorkie and my Bengal cat for company. They are just right. They love me to pieces and stay by my side as if they know I won't be around forever. They are Dionna and Diego in that order.

I like my life. I loved my job until Thursday and Friday when external (and I believe evil) forces attacked and I was cruelly treated and wrongfully accused and I am not happy about that. It stressed me, but I was prepared for the meetings that I knew weren't going to go my way despite that I was correct on every count. I was calm, non-angry, unruffled. That pissed the evil parties off, even more.

Why do evil people exist to make our lives difficult? They are sent to attack us every day. Rattle us. Make us fall. But I do not believe I fell. I believe I stood victorious and my angels were there to prove it and Allah is my witness and my strength.

So, today I look at the gray sky, the yard puddle the size of a small lagoon, and the dripping draping Spanish moss from the Sentry Oak rooted deeply into the lot next door, and say to myself, tomorrow is another day. Calmate' mi Corazon.