HAPPY NEW YEAR

FROM SUGAR AND THE WOLF

Contemplation for the New Year

Contemplation takes what most of us do not have or will not give.

Time and attention!

It is long enough to engage all of your senses if you totally allow it. It takes your eyes, ears, interest, intellect away from all else.

Your body must stay in a small space as you sit at you pc. It is a unique experience. Don't pay attention to outside noises. Don't answer the phone.

It might turn out to be a love gift to yourself for the New Year.

You might finally find out the name of a painting that you saw many years ago but have foegotten.

Happy New Year-Here is to the beauty of women and the soothing effect we have on our universe. For without us-all ends!

Enjoy!

I Can’t Spell You Can't Make Me

It was the fourth grade. A day in early October. I remember we were making a list for my birthday party the day before and my sister laughed at me because I could not spell my friend’s name. I came home and as usual gave my mother my homework assignment.

These are the memories that stay with a kid forever.

She looked at it and then she looked at me. She had what I can now describe as a thoroughly perplexed look on her face. “Mommy,” I said, “ what’s the matter?” I felt fear in my throat and then in my stomach. She smiled gently and said, “What does it say honey?”

“What do you mean Mommy?”

She looked down at the paper on the kitchen table and attempted to stretch it with her left hand smoothing the wrinkles at the top and the right hand doing the same at the bottom. She blinked and smiled again then rose from the table looked out the window at the kids playing in the cement backyard and then turned to me, “Well, I really can't read it. You see, well, can you tell me what it says? Something about, well, does this say chapter?”

"Of course Mommy, it says chapter.”

“And does this say revolutionary?”

“Yes Mommy.”

Then, smiling brightly while caressing my shoulder she said, “Ok, now we have a start then!”

I spent my childhood daydreaming about a magical machine that would spell for me because I wanted to write stories and of course you can’t write stories if you can’t spell.

The world now has such a magical toy!



Fast forward to the present. I live with a dictionary by my computer and am rather fastidious when spelling even though I have a colorful ABC genie that lives in the upper right corner of my document . I am so obsessed that I look up words just for fun!

As in most cases, when you are engaged in an intimate relationship, you let your hair down. With me, implicit in that is not bothering to review my spelling. For the last four years you-know -who and I have shared thousands of emails, poetry, stories and because of my trust in said person and my assurance that said person understood my very being I believed that all was sacrosanct, and I let my defenses down.

On Dec 6th, in her last blog, http://theunfoldingenigma.blogspot.com/ she alluded to my zero spelling skills. I guess she still has a problem when I text her something like. “cal b4 wen u r hom. it mite b 2 late 4 me 2 gab.”

I am quite well versed in the machinations of the mind having practiced this art for many a year, yet, said womans' remark cut me to the very core. Suddenly, I find myself encumbered with fourth grade spelling woes:constantly making mistakes. My fingers are going for the wrong keys. Typing has never been my forte' either but this is ridiculous!

What a miserable vicious cycle !

Yet, the cats are somewhat culpable as they are always tramping across the keyboard!

I know what is going on. I say to myself, “now look Sugar you know how to spell and even if you do not you have a program that will do it for you.” Things got better until I found another way to sabotage myself.

Oh, the power of suggestion is a merciless trap.

The other day while reading one of my pieces I noticed that I had written that I was greatful for something. Greatful? I went back a couple of times because the damn thing just did not look right, yea right? Then I reviewed things I had written in the last few days and found faux pas such as, here for hear, there for their, now for know. Me the college professor!

I went wild and took out everything I had written or edited since the beginning of December. You guessed it, all the mistakes started after Dec 7 when Margo Moon alluded to said woman and the trouble she would be in for mocking my spelling skills.

I have recovered, no self-respecting shrink would allow herself to be victimized by her own impressionable brain and the arrogance of a partner who says women for woman because that is how they say it in South Africa!

I have gone back to my nonchalant whhay of speling . It is ok because she understands me no matter how I right. When I publish somethin I take a minute and hit my magic buttom which has yet to flail me.

There are too many important ings to tink about such as the creative thrust of a story or, riting it in the correct poison. Should you leave such and such an idea in ore take it ouch?

Life is so serious. Too much energee goz into twivia! I thought I wood leaf you with a few chuckles four the haliday sesson.



"My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places." A.A. Milne

"It's a damn poor mind that can think of only one way to spell a word!" -- Andrew Jackson

I have a spelling checker
It came with my PC
It plainly marks for my revue
Mistakes I cannot sea
I've run this piece threw it
I'm sure your please to no,
It's letter perfect in it's weigh
My checker tolled me sew

anonymous

Can you find yourself?

Create A day of Joy and Peace and Love
Put the Past Behind and Look to the Future

A leave taking

I am at my computer in the upstairs office. The light is off. I often write just by screen light. The room, which is about 14 by 17, is lined with bookcases, a couple of cat towers, printer, you know this kind of room.

There is a window to my back right, I face the door in proper Feng Shui positioning, and there is a window to my far right across the room. I am actually in the cubby of two bookcases one at my left shoulder against which I occasionally lean and the other, a few feet behind me. A quick push and I am jettisoned to the back shelves.

I feel safe. The rolodex, thesaurus, dictionary and reference books are on the left. My favorites are behind me: women’s issues, death and dying, I Ching, myths, religions, world history and a shelf of endless vitamin bottles through which I rummage on Sunday morning while organizing the weeks supply of pseudo health and vitality.

The curtains are drawn apart at the far right window. A tall votive candle stands in the middle of the windowsill. Obviously, I don’t want to set the house on fire. Nevertheless, I do want to leave it. It is a St. Joseph candle, the patron of carpenters. There is a belief that if you bury a statue of St. Joseph head down in the ground that a house will sell immediately.

We know that nothing is selling here on Long Island. I need all the help I can get to sell this place in which I have lived since 1972 but, I will not risk the indignation of St. Joe by putting him head down in the frozen earth of my front yard. Personally, it would not be my choice. Therefore, it is a candle bearing his image which burns against the windowpane creating it's own aura. I believe that he is pleased with me for attempting to preserve his dignity.

He is facing south out to the frozen tundra. Whenever I walk into the room or glimpse over to the infinitesimal flame I say, "the perfect buyer comes to me now under grace in a perfect way." That’s how I approach things. Hey, it takes all kinds.

It is 9 PM, quite windy, 20 degrees. Outside the trees are knocking against the window, and the streetlamps, candle light and lights of the homes across the street are all in concert flickering into the crystals of ice, which coat the window. It has snowed and rained for a couple of days and the roads have been rather iffy. There has been great discontent. I had to break into my car yesterday when it was 15 degrees. Ah! Winter!

I have the heat down like everyone else-we are all still attempting to negotiate our fuel contracts from nearly 5 dollars a gallon down to something respectable like 2 bucks. I am chilly so I go downstairs for a bourbon.

The house is old and squeaks and creaks. There are four, five and six story oaks around this house. One hovers directly over the roof above this room. As I hear the tinkle of the glistening bourbon over the ice the swish of the wind around the entire house makes me quake with trepidation. Every so often, I look at the walls around me and shout out loud, "I fear that I will die in this house." At times, I believe that I am married to this structure and that one night in a bazaar secret ceremony of which I was not privy, it grew limbs and entwined its branches into the cerebral hemispheres of my brain as well as the ventricles of my heart.

I will only leave it when I am supine, ashen, and without breath.

One does not take this wind lightly. When six story trees are stirred by such high winds, well what can I say-it is impressive. The sound is such that you can easily envision Father Death whipping his cloak off with a bullfighter’s flare, ensconcing you in it, thus forcing you to collapse into his irresistible grasp.

The girl cat is sitting at my feet as I sip my Jack Daniel’s. Now and again she gets up, extends her paws up on my knees and yawns to signify that it is time for a treat. She gets too many treats when I ‘m in this room.

She is slight and wiry, and though remote, is simultaneously needy.

This has been bummer of a year financially and rocky with a couple of relationships. I have not been writing, I purport to be a writer. Joke! Everyone I know is in crisis. Thankfully, we have not had a major terrorist event here. In addition, maybe our new president will be the key to positive change as he promised. At least the present administration will be put to rest.

I have mortal decisions to make. I am a senior citizen, there I’ve said it. It scares the hell out of me. Yet, when I speak to the dead at night I call them mommy and daddy.

Truth be told!

The bourbon feels good coursing through me. I can feel the vessels and muscles of my circulatory system open wide rushing the delivery of blood to my head. Almost immediately I feel my face flush then my chest and arms warm, placing me in a soothing state, my eyes want to close and I begin to drift away. "Just put yourself down for a respite." I leave the computer headed for the good night.

The votive candle has finally gone out. Three days.

Copyright © 2008 by m.m.sugar

The tree of life is bound.

Even the tree of life is bound. Though it desperately reaches beyond the barrier, apparently so thin and harmless, it is still confined.

One would ask, "A tree is a mighty thing indeed. Why can it not just leap over the fence and drop it's seedlings on the other side?"

It has. With this pouring forth of a blanket of new consciousness, it is rendered barren.

Yet, the sign of woman is evidently drawn.

The seedlings will take with strong root.

The moon waits in it's indifference. The colors of movement, the world, the mind, and the imagination take their places in the orderly scheme of life.

Copyright © 2008 by m.m.sugar

St. Ninian's Cave, Scotland

Etty Hillesum

"I do believe it is possible to create, even without ever writing a word or painting a picture, by simply molding one's inner life. And that too is a deed."

Etty Hillesum, less famous than her contemporary, Anne Frank, lived a short life of great courage. She was born in 1914 in the Netherlands to a Dutch father and a Russian mother. She studied law, Slavic languages, and psychology. Hungry for knowledge, she cut down on food in order to buy books. She went voluntarily to the Westerbork camp to help fellow Jews interned by the Nazis. Her letters detail her experiences; her more meditative diary focuses on issues of faith. She died at Auschwitz in 1943.

DESIDERATA

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive God to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.


Found in old St. Paul's Church, Baltimore; Dated 1693

Gee, I thought it was so nice of a certain seadyke promising to keep an eye out for the captain's lass! Didn't you?

"The risk of a wrong decision is preferable to the terror of indecision.”

Maimonides

Sunday Offering

the first snow

One AM, I could not sleep. I miss her. She loves snow but we have never been able to conjure up a snowfall when she comes to America.


I walked through the house. The boy cat, a huge hulking black tuxedo was flopped over the edge of the bed, his head and arms in a diving pose. His little sister had managed to wrap herself up in a jacket that I had left on the back of a chair. She had tumbled it down and rolled into it. She is a rather intelligent meow.


These cats have eschewed the laps and bellies of even my kids, yet, they find her more than acceptable. Animals know!

I used to absolutely love snow. My former husband took great delight is lighting up a cigar and spending hours shoveling the stuff with our kids helping on occasion.

For the last 20 years I have been dealing with the snow. Whenever I hear of a coming snow I automatically rise several times in the night and shovel a couple of inches at a time. Some people think that I am nuts. Yet, if you think about it it is the easier way to do it. And, I actually do enjoy it.

There is a sense of wonder being alone in the snow in the middle of the night. My street is countrified with giant oaks and lovely homes. The street lights cast a gentle light that exhibits the beauty. Each home becomes a christmas card.

I am aware of the sound of the shovel and just graze the snow leaving a thin layer thus protecting those who are in slumber.

As the years have passed so has my enthusiasm for shoveling. However, one can never come to discount the beauty of the first encounter, it is almost a shame to shovel it and disrupt the first blanketing.

I wish she were here to look at the wonder with me. We are like two peas in a pod. When we are together the minutes, hours, days pass in simplicity.

She is across the pond. Our reunion is thought to be a long way off . The disquietude I suffer is unsettling, there are more obstacles this time.

Some part of me is missing. I have a great deal to be grateful for and though I make an effort to remember that.............

I do what must be done, the way it must be done, when it must be done

We do not understand:

Joy.....until we face sorrow
Faith.....until it is tested
Peace....until faced with conflict
Trust....until we are betrayed
Love....until it is lost
Hope...until confronted with doubts

-Unknown


Every experience adds to our life. We may be aware of each of the above many times in the course of a day.
Yet, we are not overcome. We must endure.

Though some pain, be it physical or emotional, be a prominent factor in our life, no choice exists but to give it our best shot.

To luxuriate in any pain is the sign of a marked person: one marked for cultivating a mountain of the misery, that, though he may start at the bottom to sort things out and dispose of, he will continue to reap.

Life is beautiful. We must become aware of all its beauty.

It is helpful to understand that there is joy in overcoming any obstacle that is thrown in our path. Also, it is helpful to refrain from taking things personally.

Life is an equal opportunity giver and taker of both joy and sorrow.

To ask "why me?" is not the proper question. Instead ask, "Why not me!", as we are all of the same ilk.

If some sorrow has taken hold of us such as missing a loved one, well, we must just go on.

Make a list. Do what must be done the way it must be done, when it must be done.

Feel the joy in the simple accomplishment of crossing it off when achieved.

We must recognize our inner beauty, our ability to be alone, our creativity, and ability to laugh in the face of adversity.



Don't add to the heavy stuff. Lighten up a bit. Lets look on the bright side.

There is almost always another day. And if there isn't?

Well then, our troubles are really over!

They are so mean to me!

“We teach people how to treat us.” - Phillip C. McGraw



Bewildered?

Once they hurt you, shame on them.

Second time, shame on you.

Don't let others put you down.

Don't allow others to put you in a position where you must justify your actions, words and ESPECIALLY your existence!

Insecure people like to test others to see how far they can go. If someone gets you to defend yourself in any way, it gives them a feeling of superiority.

Asking them, "why are you saying that me?" put the onus on them. This will give them a bit of a surprise as their intent was to put YOU on the spot!

Where do they get off with their superior attitude?

It came from you in previous exchanges when you allowed such disrespect.

There is no one to change but yourself!

Once you clarify what you are willing to accept and not willing to accept, the exchanges become healthy.

Though we must accept the responsibility for allowing others to previously disrespect us we must also take the responsibility to establish a change to respectful mutuality.

Only we can do that, no one else can.

Think, "I am present, self-respecting, worthy and self-loving."

Everyone will sense it and especially become attuned after you prove it by some simple statement, such as, "I am uncomfortable with what you have just said".

Take your power back!

Don't ever give it away again!

follow your bliss today

"Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls."

Joseph Campbell

listen to the whisperings of the gods

"None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone."

Ralph Waldo Emerson


We all have moments in our lives, turning points. A memory flash, a chance meeting, an aha! moment, which might be so illusive that we almost have to physically grasp after it.

We must align ourselves with that essence within us whether it is a god, Buddha, bliss, the universe, etc. From this communion emanates our unique powers of self-reliance and our distinctive gifts, which are myriad.

These are the moments in which we create our own destiny. In the acknowledgment and reconciliation of this illumination, we are in awe and spontaneously become driven to undertake life whether it is a new venture or the slaying of an old dragon.

December is the beginning of outer coldness when the trees shed their leaves and make themselves bare to the elements. They have proven their greatness by their ability to repeatedly triumph.

We too can prove our strength. We all have different arenas in life in which we must prevail. Nevertheless, prevail we must.

Perhaps it is time to return to our inner self, close off for a few moments as a flower is embraced by its petals at night and listen to the whisperings of the gods.



Surrounded by the universe he immerses, naked, into self-abandonment. What might he find within himself? Leaving the scrolls of world knowledge, sense of time and structure behind: with this act, he becomes the child again, innocent and educable, able to partake of the all Seeing Eye and hear what must be heard.

Unless he is given to folly!