I’ve wanted to share part of my Colorado trip, but I haven’t taken the time to organize my thoughts. Sometimes you have to do it. Organize later.
Off the highway in Las Animas County, Colorado, my boyfriend and I stopped for a chance to rest and take few pictures. It was more interesting than I was expecting. I found out later the area is called Cuchara Pass. We were north of a town called Cuchara on the downhill grade before you get to La Veta.
We both love Aspen trees. And driving through scenic Colorado in September is divine. The Aspens were beautiful—but they were Summery green—not yet turning golden for fall. It was a sunny day with a blue sky over us and the wind blowing softly through the round leaves. Perfection. As I walked into the grove, I noticed the fallen logs, which make for outstanding photography. Nature shots are my favorite to take. I happened to look up and see the Cupid hearts with initials carved into the bark of a tree. Several of the initials are replicated on other trees. Aha, a story. Those are the things that keep me curious, what keeps me alive. Art.
Disclaimer: I don’t encourage this practice—it’s harmful to trees. If someone finds this location, please don’t add more scarring to their skin.
Wind in the trees…
Interested in learning more about the area? Here are some links I found.
Honking is an annoying noise to me, so much so that it took me a full year before I realized the one-year-old car I purchased didn’t have a working horn. Hmmm, darn. My warranty was gone by that time. I’ve had the car for ten years now, and it’s still not repaired.
People honk, and it’s difficult to know, are they telling me, “Hey lady, speed up!” or “Yeah, you can move on into the spot in front of me.” A loud noise is a loud noise. It startles and offends. Honking rarely accomplishes it’s purpose unless the purpose is for the person honking is to yell. In those situations, it is useful. Honk, honk, honk, honk. Just like being downtown in Chicago.
I’m contrasting this to those who complain. My mom complained when I was growing up, and it was difficult for me to learn the difference until more recently. I asked her to voice her concerns to her doctor, which she had spoken so freely to me, and she said she didn’t want to complain. I was baffled. She told me my dad didn’t approve of this behavior, and then I understood a little more. He is the one who keeps things to himself. He is always alright. He would never let the doctor know of his issues because it exposes weakness. So, mom’s complaining to me is her way of telling me she has a problem, but she has no way of getting help.
Voicing an issue is a good thing, in my opinion. Speaking up, and even protesting is a right we should protect with all of our beings. If we don’t want to lose our humanity in this age, we need to wake up and use this time wisely. Speak up. If there’s an issue on your job, or at your apartment complex, or anywhere that is affecting your life, use your right to say something.
This society we live in is built upon these customs. The structure our ancestors chose were laws, rules, and the ability to stand up for ourselves. We sometimes need to request help from others stronger or wiser than we are to speak for us, but the purpose is the same, don’t sit in the mud and complain about being wet and dirty. Find a way, ask for help, holler, cry, kick, and scream if you must, but say something until you are heard and can grab a hand that will pull you out of that mud. But whatever you do, don’t stay there.
I live in an area where complacency is the norm. This is the way it is. We’ve always lived here and don’t you dare think you’re better than anyone else. I’m watching businesses die because of this attitude, and these are ones that could update their equipment, update their ways, and stay in touch with the times, but they refuse. It reminds me of when typewriters were going out, and computers came in. So many talented older women didn’t learn how to use these new pieces of equipment. Modern ways came in and left them behind. I shouldn’t be sad, I guess. I should let it go, but I find it disheartening because this is what I see happening in my government as well. It’s time for a change. I don’t know what it will look like, but the old way isn’t working. We have to speak up.
Say something. If you have opinions and you have ideas, say them. If you are in a position to do something in a local area, use it to your advantage. Make wise decisions. Move forward.
If you’re a person in need, don’t give up hope. This is a day for you. The sun is rising. Decide what you want, even if it seems impossible. Imagine if it were. If you were not sitting in the mud, how would you live?
This isn’t something I do often, but for people I love I would walk a thousand miles, then I would walk a thousand more.
A friend’s husband is having a heart and liver transplant. This has been a long ordeal for their children as you can imagine. Long grueling days of worrying about dad. Loss of income. Yeah we know the story about healthcare and insurance. Well this is one time it came close to home. Job choices.
Imagine you’re about to get the heart transplant for your husband and your company abruptly calls you into the office. Oh damn! Layoff. Reorganization. You have one month to find a new job.
Sometimes there are endings with happy beginnings.
I’m not saying anyone should help, but if you want and if you have an extra $5.00 or $10.00 or share a prayer, it is appreciated. Positive vibes please. Love.
In the early 1300s, Scotland was at war. Each man was defending his right to be King. Swords in the air, blood on the soil, raw power. You can read about Robert the Bruce here. It’s the strength of the fighting man. Right?
It makes me wonder, what is power? Am I a person of means? Rich people appear dominant, and so do those who have a higher status. These are traits we usually have to acquire or inherit. So how does someone ordinary get power? Or are we stuck?
Power is making decisions, and whatever course you are charting, I choose you, my husband.
It’s time to understand where we are. The crossroads. These are days you want to tell your grandchildren about. I do hope someone takes notes. Why? There is a drama of contrasts playing on the stage for the world to see.
We have politicians in mock battle pretending to be warriors. They’ve puffed their chests and beat their drums while marching through the streets on their way to nowhere. It’s all talk. Loud sounds. Build up the beat. Build up the beat. And yes this strategy works.
Charisma, you’re a pretty tune. But can you feed the people? All of this drama has taken our attention from real needs. How do we rebuild our school systems and prepare our children for the future? Can we make our cities better for families?
My power is my choice. I don’t pay attention to their mock battles. The shadow boxing is a distraction. It’s only keeping us from doing real work.
There are many examples we can follow. To their actions, we should pay attention. Women who decided civil disobedience was a good thing, who created their power by the Women’s Suffrage movement. The Doctors Without Borders who chose to go into areas of crisis, putting their lives at risk. They do this by choice. This is their power. And they give this power to their patients in the form of health.
Elizabeth de Burgh: [to Robert the Bruce]
Power is making decisions. Power is not allowing yourself to be buffeted on the tides of history. Instead, it is choosing a boat, climbing aboard, and hoisting the sail. I choose you. And whatever course you are charting, I choose you, my husband.
It’s not the Bible you cherish. Or the goodness of Jesus. Love, joy, peace. Seriously? I was naive. It was never those things. I kept referring back to those traits saying, ‘You’re missing the path.’
And now I genuinely am bewildered. What makes you follow the radicals? How can the redeemed follow a rapist? An adulterer? And what is the siren’s call?
I am not questioning as a judge. Honestly, it baffles me, but human behavior always confuses me. I was taught to be pure, strong, wise, and hard working.
My parents taught me how to learn. If I needed information, I gathered books or knowledge. But what I’m seeing from their actions and the actions of their peers is equivalent to a herd of buffalo stampeding. All learning be damned.
I see Christianity equaling power. Voting power. And powerful men that are growing up in the Republican Party are using the evangelical Christians as their sword. I am saddened by this because there was a day when Christians were known for love and love was a power. They stood proud of their accomplishments. Today is a sad day for Christians, for they have lost their truth.
My mom has been trying to schedule an appointment for surgery for months, but she’s been waiting for the doctor to call her. Dad, during the first round of doctor’s visits, said to wait. This is how it always worked. The old insurance operated this way. They’re still waiting.
My parent’s previous coverage dropped because the insurance decided to lower cost. It was terminated according to where you lived. Insurance companies do this to ’shake off the excess,’ and they’ll open to the area again at a later time. It’s a mind fuck.
There are clunky systems in our world and maybe there have been for a very long time. If you’re not paying attention, then you’ll still see squabbling and politics. It is that. But there is an underlying feeling of contrived chaos. Unnecessary red tape.
Why is healthcare so difficult? Expensive? Protocol. A ridiculous amount of hoops to jump through for doctors and hospitals. With each year, restrictions are added for the sake of saving costs. My job is to work through those requirements so the insurance will pay, helping patients in the long term.
We need a better way and I don’t necessarily mean universal healthcare. Our system is inside-out. I am concerned even alarmed. I worry for the people who can’t keep up with the speed of change. I also worry what will happen when I am my parents age? If it’s this bad now, if nothing improves, will I be able to navigate such a Maze?
I work for a company, but who is working for the people anymore? We’ve forgotten to love our people.
It takes effort to be strong. Conscious thought and awareness are needed to bring out the good in others, but if you can do it some of the time, most of the time, try. Because not trying, not even bothering to show up, is inexcusable. And turning bitter is usually the result.
Anger, resentment, sadness, grief are the leftovers of loves unfulfilled. Unplayable songs, words we held inside a moment too long.
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat… Roosevelt’s Writings
It’s May 2016, and we say hello to Red Pill politics. You might not be familiar with this version of the Red Pill. Red vs. Blue has been splashed across the media in The Matrix, in the policy with the Republicans and the Democrats, and then there is the one I’m talking about, the angry men. I mentioned it in a post from 2014 – The Thing You Didn’t Say.
Be the man
Is your wife too loud-mouthed? Here take this pill and read this book we can fix your marriage because it’s your god given right to be in charge. I’m idealistic, and it shows like an episode of the Brady Bunch. Because I believe families can be a unit, caring for each other. And if dad is in charge, he is there to protect his family. Well, I know that’s just bat-shit crazy.
The Red Pill movement contains more than just one aspect. There are get-rich-quick schemes, pick-up artists sneaky tricks, and even how to keep your dates at arms length while still having all the boys-will-be-boys fun. There’s too much to include in this blog, but check out some of the links below.
Redpillers define themselves as opponents to progressives. They seek to roll back the achievements of “cultural Marxists”, “Social Justice Warriors”, “political correctness” and “radical feminists”, justifying ruthless tactics as a necessary response to these perceived excesses. – Boing Boing JAY ALLEN / 11 AM WED, JAN 28 2015
Strategic Play – Put the woman in her place
So Trump has accused Hillary Clinton of using the Woman card? I’ll use it. Men have been using their cards for centuries. They’ve used it to start wars, claim land rights, even dictating women’s clothing. Didn’t women just battle over the right to vote? Was that a woman card or a man card? And then there’s education, reproductive choices, where to live, who we can marry, and I could continue. You think this has ended in our modern times? Nope. I listened to a story on This American Life, by Ira Glass. A young woman spoke about how when she was seven she lost the right to choose how her body functioned sexually. Yes, it was all about religion, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t go into the entire story because it’s sensitive and revealing, but you’re free to listen to it here 586: Who Do We Think We Are? or below. You can’t play the woman card when you’re seven.
Sugar and Spice
Donald Trump wants to shame women. Sit down and be pretty. He wants women to keep their mouths closed and their opinions to themselves. It’s not going to happen. I will not be ashamed. I will not sit down. I’m a Bernie Sanders supporter, but I’m a woman also. My first choice is Bernie, but I won’t stay home on election day. You shouldn’t either.
They need to know that desire is a mess, and that everyone suffers from its mess. –
Hang on you say, people aren’t that easy to label. I agree, but we do label. Sometimes it comes out in our favor.
A few years ago I was in Texas with a friend and we walked across the border into Mexico. As we maneuvered through the narrow streets, we were greeted by shouting street vendors calling out, Hey Blondies! Wanna buy? Just five dollar. It overwhelmed her. I was used to the whole Blondie bit. That’s been my life. Her, not so much. She’d only recently become a blonde. I wonder how that felt.
We escaped into a small bistro and ate nachos topped with real cheddar cheese and downed glasses of freshly squeezed lemonade. I can still taste that juicy lemonade. The best cold drink I’ve ever had. The quiet conversation was a relief also.
When we finished and had our arms full of shopping stuff, we started back across the border. It was then that I realized I’d forgotten my birth certificate. It was only a block away from Texas, but I still panicked a bit. I explained my situation to the guard, he looked at me and smiled with a wink, No problem. You’re American.
I’ve been told more than a few times that I look like an all-American girl and I was never sure what that meant. I see females from Ireland or France that have the same coloring as mine, so what’s the deal? I’m certain there’s an attitude or a mannerism that I’m not aware of. Whatever others see, apparently it’s enough for someone to call it a profile.
What about you? Are you a type? Something quirky? Witchy? Maybe you can be pegged as afraid of spiders or a cat lover. Foodie anyone? Nerdy?
Here’s one that I ran across on a podcast this week. This American Life-Vocal Fry.I hadn’t heard of this voice nuance before until it was mentioned. Then I realized I’ve noticed it but never named it. They say it’s common in college-age girls, sometimes in boys also. It’s an inflection of the voice that squeaks or grates a little towards the end of a sentence. Interesting, but it doesn’t seem as annoying to me as it did to their audience.
I realized after the listening to several French citizens’ response shortly after the tragic concert bombing in November that what I felt some of us are missing here in the states. Love. One of the girls that came out of the concert stated it so clearly, not that she loved those that bombed them. No, but she felt love for those that she was with at the time and she was glad to have been with people she loved enjoying an evening of freedom. And her heart was filled with love even while she was searching for her boyfriend and friends. She wasn’t the only one that I heard say statements like that.
Their response to terror wasn’t to build a wall or blast the shit out of those evil bastards. It was, we are put on this earth to enjoy life. We will live. They want us to be afraid. The terrorist want us to fear because they hate our freedom, but we won’t let them take it away.
We become what we fear or we become what we love. We in the United States of America should not forget this. I want to live, not hide or pretend to be Rambo.
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