Freedom of Voice

Yesterday, the Laverne and Shirley   theme song popped into my head: Give us any chance, we'll take it Read us any rule, we'll break it We're gonna make our dreams come true Doin' it our way I've never considered myself a risk-taker. At all. Yet, I took a big chance in December when I walked, no ran, away from a job with an organization that had proven it didn't value me as a person. The words flowing out of our top leaders' mouths tried to convince me I would be a "hero," but I felt more like a pawn in a chess match. The first call I made, oddly enough, was not to my husband. It was to a friend who had boldly stuck both middle fingers in the air as she walked, no marched, away from a situation she didn't like to strike out on her own. "Now will you come work with me?"  she implored. She had been asking for a couple of years. We have a great synergy, and although I helped her with her venture for free throughout the summe...

Here's how much of a rule follower I am: When John has repeatedly suggested walking on the golf course path in our neighborhood (after hours), I always point out the sign that clearly states that only registered golfers are allowed. No walkers or bikers. He usually responds by saying "screw it," and I end up following along, biting my nails the whole time lest the Stoneybrook security force or the course ranger bust us.  Other times, he rolls his eyes at me and keeps walking on the designated walking path, half amused/half annoyed that I am such a square. Of course, the consequences wouldn't be that harsh--a verbal warning, maybe a citation with a fine (if they're even allowed to do that). But, it's breaking the rules, and I am completely uncomfortable with that. I try to be rebellious.  I wrote for a blog that called out our failing school system for what it has become. At the end of last year, I quit a job when I felt slighted for the umpteenth time. I wen...

Lately, I've been trying to pass myself off as a chill, mellow woman, one who is letting things go, getting more Zen-like by the minute. My body tells me it's all a lie. What I mistook for a couple of bug bites from an awesome connect-with-nature morning at Lover's Key Park on Saturday have grown in number and intensity, the tell-tale burning-from-the-inside feeling signaling the angry, itchy bumps spreading all over my arms, back, and neck are not a result of pesky mosquitos or noseeums. A quick Google search had me fearing bed bugs, especially since I've been in 3 different hotel rooms in a span of one week (sounds more exciting than it is), but frantically searching my mattress, sheets, and husband abated that panic. While I long to be calm, go-with-the-flow, and carefree, my mind and body prefer to be more dramatic. Stressed? How about a few clumsy accidents to leave you with some burns and bruises? Didn't get those hints? Maybe hives will force you to s...

My friend, Laurie, shared a poem,  The Invitation ,  by Oriah on our writing circle page yesterday. I decided to use it as a mentor poem to create an invitation of my own. It doesn't matter to me where you came from. I want to learn  where you plan to go and who you want to join you on your path to this destination.  It doesn't matter to me if you have a sordid past. I want to discover  what you've learned  from your missteps  and how you help others  avoid the same pain you've felt.  It doesn't matter to me if you're rich or poor. I'm more interested in  the wealth of your spirit, the bank of your kindness and capacity for self-sacrifice.  I long to uncover your secret hopes, your hidden fears; and, if they happen to match mine, I hope we can link hands and face our demons united. No preconceived notions. No judgment. I need to hear  how you justify your feeling...

I saw a red flower, a fiery blaze among a wasteland of twigs and dead grasses. Its petals like miniature trumpets, blasting out the sound of red, unapologetically announcing its presence. A lesson in resilience. I saw a dusty path leading nowhere, yet leading me somewhere, to a window carved in between bent trees. Its view like a portal to a watery world with hidden treasures and unknown wonders. A lesson in curiosity. I saw a piece of barbed wire, rusty and mangled, restraining the remains of a tree. Its spikes like a crucifix crown, digging into the already dead tree, a warning to those who passed. A lesson in obedience. I saw a congregation of fish, growing from three to eight, all waiting for something. Their fluid movements keeping them in place, moving, yet not going anywhere, all eyes affixed on one spot. A lesson in patience. I saw a patch of vegetation, jutting out from the water, rebelliously rooted in the glassy water. Its blades like unruly hai...