+CLAIMING. PART OF A LETTER….

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Sunday, October 5, 2014.  I spent most of today clearing out the 8′ x 8′ closet in this small apartment to make a room for my 26-month-old grandson to take his naps in so I can have the only bedroom here for my sewing while he is sleeping and I have some time to myself.  My long handled bags are selling well and seem to finally be something I enjoy making that actually make enough money to pay for my materials!  The sewing is very therapeutic for me.  I need this creative outlet.  The room is draped with fantastic colors and patterns of fabrics from sale clothing I discover each week (while weather holds and I can walk there) at our new Goodwill Store.  I call this very full room my 3-D textured palette.

Before I began my work today I was writing a letter to my 89-year-old Alaska homesteading neighbor from my childhood.  I found myself writing some things that surprised me with their words:

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A butterfly transformation is in process.  Those stages can be difficult and painful.  Still vitally necessary.  (As in all aging.)

I am OK with being alive at this moment and unboundingly grateful for your being in my life, dear friend!  I worte a blog post last eve about my “last” drum lesson entitled Drumming My Spunk Back.  I have lost my self- confidence!  In many ways that part of me left when my dear friend passed out of my life nearly 2 years ago.  Then I outran all I knew in Arizona last fall that fed, nurtured, and sustained me — home and all.

Now here I am transforming a closet into a baby haven so I can have “a room of my own.”

Having our book in Dr. Perry’s hands is magical to me!  He is our best hope.  For this work to sprout I NEED him to take me and this whole story seriously.  Will he?  Time will tell.

I feel so fragile these days, in this strange land — dare I say writing to you today I almost feel OK?  Parts of myself, ME being a tree — these parts or aspects are like birds — all sent into a terrible flutter — some falling to the ground unable to get up — when I uprooted what I could and was hauled — lock/stock/barrel — hook/line/sinker — on that awful trip up here — up here — seem to perhaps have re-alighted themselves in my branches.

The part that writes you is here.  The one who loves plants and beauty and the sound of falling water are here.  A part of me took charge of my drumming yesterday.  Not to leave it behind or in the hands of another — but to bring it home HERE where I live.

I am taking charge of my vital need to create as I rearrange my space here — small as it is.  Bring home to roost these creative birds of my self.  These thoughts come to me as I change the built-in shelf in soon-to-be-baby’s room — four running feet of my odd (to me beautiful, bound hope) collection of old piano books and music.  I “love” those books — yet thanks to my connection with Brett [drumming teacher] I keep out only the one new one he suggested that I buy.

Hanon – The Virtuoso Pianist in 60 Exercises.

True, I’ve been practicing 20 minutes every day intensely on one of the keyboard exercise Brett gave me from this book three months ago to strengthen and speed up the last three fingers of each hand — drumming fingers — and only now am I seeing good progress.  But this winter I can add another 20 minutes a day practice session beginning at the start of the Hanon book.

Not to take away from drum practice but to bring home another bird of me to roost in my tee of self.  Those books on my shelf are about what I was told once by an astrologer:  The biggest issue of my life is about “reasons to keep the seed alive through winter.”

I am also focusing/claiming my main winter diet.  I have 25 pounds of organic quinoa I bought online and keep buffalo meat patties in my freezer along with frozen green vegetables for juicing — and of course, a supply of Snickers.  A bit more will come and go.  I found out about a local grocery store where I can order online and they deliver to the door.  [I am not driving and have no car to drive.  Can’t afford one.  Have no inner resources left within me to drive.  As Dr. Perry describes in his book:  Too many changes.  Nothing in my life is currently ordinary.  I am on high-stress alert.]

Key and central things matter.  The homesteading daughter in me knows many things. — Perhaps more than anything else I was born and made to be a damn good survivor!

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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