"The Heart of Life"

        I know the heart of life is good.  It has shown itself to me in ways those only mimic storybook renditions of love.  It has shown itself to me in numerous places, one of which left a mark upon my soul.  Of all places which I could stumble upon the heart of life, it would be within the Forest of Whispers, where we happened to cross paths.  The Forest of Whispers seldom has visitors, many of the locals would not dare step foot in it; for it has been said that if one listens closely they may hear the trees speaking to one another, passing along secret messages with their large branches and leafs.  It was this mystery of secrets that would draw me in, leading me upon a path that would change my life for the better and the truth that would keep me coming back.   

        It was a typically warm summer day, unlike any other, when I was initiated into the Forest of Whisper’s elite society. My inquisitiveness brought me to a small archway of green ivy intertwined with a tangled mess of brown branches, leading me into the forest.  As I entered a soft, rustling sound innocently glided through the air and sweetly whispered, "welcome". These gentle waves continued to flow back and forth, to and fro, enticing me to progress deeper into the belly of the forest. 

        While I walked through the forest my senses seemed to almost become heightened.  The sound of the forest began to grow clearer, more distinct; the trickling sound of a nearby stream allowed me to envision the various sizes of rocks that it contained, changing the sound of the water from trickling to gurgling, like scales on a piano.  A grumpy woodpecker began its banter, almost shouting for me to leave this place, his place.  His instrument grew from a faint "knock, knock, knock" into a louder "crack, crack, crack", it didn't take me long to move along, allowing the fellow adventurist his space amongst the large forest home. 

        My encounter with the chirping stream and the rowdy woodpecker brought a genuine smile to my face. As a skipped along the forest dance floor, my steps seemed to have more spring in them, more cushion.  I paused a moment to inspect the ground beneath me.  At first glance I thought of the floor to be nothing other than the usual, dirt, but what I saw interested me.  Mixed amongst the soil were the pine needles which were once proudly displayed on their maker, leaves of both the oak and maple trees, and decaying trees who had lived to either reach their prime or were blown down during a strong summer storm.  I was merrily skipping upon a graveyard of birch, pine, oak, and maple trees- all that lived and died for the good of the forest.  It would be their carcasses that would allow life to continue, as it created rich, damp compost, suitable to feed the soul of the forest.

         The richness of the ground beneath varied from a light brown to an almost brownish black, depending upon the level of decomposing and dampness.  I bent down to grab a fistful of this "black gold", careful not to take hold of any unwanted visitors.  At once, I felt connected to this place, this moment in time; I held its history in my hands. The flaky layers of life contained in my grasp felt cold and dead, far from the life I knew they still held.  I gently released the mixture back onto the ground.  As I looked closely, a tiny bit of soil moved and with that a small "potato bug" emerged no doubtingly happy to be back on solid ground.  I was thankful that the tiny one waited until I relinquished the mixture before he journeyed out from the mass.  As the potato bug continued his journey, I too continued mine. 

        It wasn't long before I noticed that I had journeyed further than anticipated.  The sun which had been held high in the sky when my journey first began was beginning its decent into the horizon.  Surprisingly, the once dark forest, mostly void from light except for the few patches of sun here and there, began a dance of light and color; the view was beautiful, awesome and awe inspiring.  The forest opened up into a clearing, large enough for me to take off on my own private self-discovery.  I began to look upon these beams of sunlight as spotlights and the forest floor was my stage.  I was instantly overcome with emotion and movement.  As I swayed back and forth, the sound of the whispering tress became louder.  My swaying led to twirling, around and around until the trunks of the trees became my partners and their limbs delicately leading the dance.  The music of the forest surrounded us, branches hitting and rubbing against each other created percussion like rhythm of clapsticks. A bullfrog, which had been hiding near the stream, now proudly showed his baritone voice, croaking with great pride along with the trees.  The once grumpy woodpecker swallowed his pride and began rapping onto a hallowed out birch tree, giving structure to this make-shift band.  To stand on stage with this band of vagabonds was an honor.  If the sound that was made that day was a feeling- it would be the feeling you get when you are pleasantly surprised by someone, if it was a flavor- it would be chocolate ice cream with peanut butter ribbons running through it, if it was a piece of furniture- it would be my favorite old recliner, the one that needed a little extra nudge to recline back, if it was smell- it would be the most fragrant lilac bush, sweet with the freshness of spring.  The sound created replenished my soul, and showed me that life is truly good.  I twirled in harmony with the kaleidoscope of colors the sun showered upon us, all while I embraced the heart of life.   

            As I exited the forest that day, I rummaged through my jacket pockets, in search of my car keys, but my feelers came across the smallest of acorns instead, I had unknowingly (or subconsciously) brought a piece of the magic with me.  Even though I physically left the forest, I did not purge myself of the secrets which Forest of Whispers entrusted me with; for I hear them in the innocence of a baby’s giggle, I smell them in the sweet fragrance of spring, I feel them in the tenderness of a soft touch and I see them in the beauty that surrounds me.   I know the heart of life is good. 

Everything is Going to be OK!

It's been a rough couple of days in Western New York. We've experienced a  thaw (a high of 48 degrees to be precise), rain, thunder and lightening, HUGE ENORMOUS snow flakes, sleet and drizzle.  We've had the sun-shining as bright as a summers day and we now have the typical sky of the season, overcast.  I share that with you because with all the emotions of mother nature being outta whack they put my bipolar crazy train in full motion. Thankfully after being down for 24 plus hours with my chosen disorder and a migraine, I am happy to back up and running today.  Although there will be days that I don't always get a chance to post something on my blog I will always be sure to post every other day.  Thank you all for taking time to POP on over and visit my beautiful functionally dysfunctional mind :)  Peace & <3!

"My Dance with Neptune and Poseidon"

                I was told that I had visited the ocean before. It was only once, and I was much younger. I really wish I had been able to remember that experience because it would have saved me much embarrassment, not only at the time of the “violation” but for the many years to come. I must go back to the summer of 2005, the summer the ocean rejected me.

                The summer of 2005 my husband and I took our three boys to Parsippany, New Jersey, the place where my father began a new life after an old marriage. With the kids excited to see PaPa Al, we began our visit. It didn’t take long to hear those famous words, “I’m bored.” come from my children. It was mid-July and the summer’s sun seemed to heat up my Dad’s small cottage home like a microwave oven and we were a snack-sized bag of popcorn inside, being popped open and bouncing off of each other. In order to survive, we needed an escape. It would be my longing to visit the ocean, and the hope of escaping the heat, that would set the longevity of my story into motion. So with the hope of cooling off with a dip in the “monster”, aka, ocean, we were off.

    Growing up in Chautauqua County seems to have graced me with naiveness in geographic matters. Because after 15 minutes into our journey to the beach, it became apparent that our water paradise was not simply around the corner. After 45 minutes into our drive to the beach, it became even more apparent that 7 people cannot fit into a Chevy Malibu. As anxious as I was to escape the tightness of the vehicle, later in the day I would be even more anxious to get back into its tight embrace.

    When finally were able to see the beach I immediately noticed the sea of bodies strewn around the sand. I was amazed that there would be any room for my rowdy gang of merry men and myself, but there was. Even more amazing then our ability to secure a spot on the beach was the beaches ability to charge us for admittance. Hadn’t God graced us all with oceans, seas, lakes, rivers, creeks, streams and even mud puddles? My father anted up and off we were to finally experience the greatness of the ocean.

                I quickly spread our blanket on the sand, which may I mention wasn’t white at all but more of a whitish tan, not at all what they show on all the tourism commercials. With our camp staked out, we shed our human clothing for the beach ware of the ocean. My children in their cute Old Navy swimming trunks, my husband looking dashing in his tropical island print board shorts and I in my tankini “moo moo”, all ran down to the water’s edge to finally free ourselves of the heat which had enslaved us for most of the day. As we stuck our piggies into the water I began to have visions of Bill Nye the Science Guy, episode 20, the one about density and buoyancy. I began to remember that salt water makes anything more buoyant. As I allowed this idea of buoyancy to take over my brain, I began to lose touch with reality. I began to see myself in my “moo moo” tankini, graceful and elegantly floating upon the waters of Mother Earth. What a beautiful mind movie I had made for myself. The problem was, this mind movie should have stayed just that, a mind movie.

                As the idea crept into my mind, waves began to creep on to shore. I should have noticed this change in the water but my focus was only on one thing, buoyancy. As I entered the water I began to wonder how far I would have to go out to achieve this “free floating” that I was sure would be a wonderful experience. I decided to give it a try as the water reached my waist. I lifted my legs up off the ocean floor and found myself sinking back into the water. I needed to be further out.

                I wish I would have noticed the waves growing larger in size, but the only thing I was seeing grow was my unwavering determination to test out Bill Nye’s science experiment. I paddled further out, trying not to think of the movie “Jaws”, which for me is pretty hard considering I am scared to death of anything with a dorsal fin that can eat a man in one bite. It was once the water reached the middle of my belly that I began to feel I had finally reached the “sweet spot”. As my body began to lift onto the surface of the ocean, visions of my mind movie swept into my thoughts. I was envisioning myself gracefully floating along the gentle patterns of the ocean.  I was free.  Unfortunately, the thoughts were not to be the only thing that would sweep in.

                In my attempt to find buoyancy, I found rejection. The force that I felt lifting me onto the surface was actually a wall of water, sent by Neptune to forcefully evict me from its domain. In all actuality, I had I became caught up in an undertow. The impact of the wave was quick. It swept my body onto the ocean’s edge, leaving me flaying with panic and confusion.

                The rejection I felt from Neptune and his brother, Poseidon was not only scary - it was embarrassing! It seems that after being caught in the undertow I was deposited onto a beach full of onlookers. My mind movie became a skit, a show for all of those witnessed the wave growing larger, nearing a unknowing dreamer, swallowing her into its belly and spitting her back out with disgust. The climax of this skit would be my flaying body, full of sand and seaweed, sprawled out on the beach gasping for air. My tankini no longer contained the parts in which it was made for. There I was, in all my glory, lying on the beach for all to see. When I was finally able to focus my eyes, my husband came into view. He was standing over me, urging me to get up. After a few minutes of me pleading for help, I found my bearings and took in my surroundings. Until that moment I was certain I was still in water, drowning and in need of rescue. I immediately stood up, taking in what had just happened to me, I was rejected by the sea. Like a child biting into a sour lemon, I was spat out.

                Later that day, I was finally able to wash the aftermath of the day’s events. I was left with at least 2 cups of good ole’ Jersey sand, it wasn’t white, and it wasn’t pretty. It was a reminder of all that I had hoped for of that day and the disappointment it had become. The full impact of what could have happened to me that day hadn’t sunk into my brain; I could have been dragged out to sea instead of deposited safely onto the beach. I am now grateful for the warning, and appreciate the strength and beauty the ocean holds.

                It has been six years since I was violated by the furry of the ocean. I am no longer a fan of Bill Nye the science guy and I leave all experiments to the professionals. I have been to the ocean since, simply as a spectator not a participant. I did manage to gain enough courage to dip my piggies into the water, but no further than my ankle did I dare go. Although I am weary of shaking hands with the water gods again again, I know that one day I will have to overcome that fear. Since that day in July, the story of my “tangle with the ocean” is one that has been told over and over, and I’m sure it will continue to be shared for many years to come. I envision my grandchildren sitting on my husband’s lap, being told of the day their grandmother danced with Neptune and his brother, Poseidon and I will smile.  

Mind Games

My darkness consumes me pulling me back
Deeper and deeper
Into the abyss I fall
Barely breathing with the pressure of a hundred thoughts and a million emotions weighing heavy upon my chest
My mind won't rest
My heart won't mend
So I crawl back up
The sides of the rugged well
I will not bend, I will not fall
For the games within my mind affects them all

Untitled~ Chapter 4

    “Aika, go on without me. Leave me here.” Thérèse breathlessly said as they made their way up the third large hill of the day.

    “Thérèse, why do you have to be so stubborn? If you would just turn your bicycles motor on you can easily make it up the hill, I promise.” Aika said for what felt like the billionth time since they had begun their journey along the country roads of Tuscany only two days ago.

    “Aika, I’ve told you how I feel about turning the motor on, it cheapens the experience.”

    “Yes, but why can’t you see that you are the only one here not enjoying the whole experience. Look. Look how happy the rest of the group is.” Aika pleades with her friend.

    Thérèse looked up at the rest of the group who have almost crested the hill and even from a distance could see their smiles and hear their laughter.

    “You are right, Aika. I will turn the motor on.” Thérèse said as she reaches down and against her best judgment succumbs to using the motor by flicking the red toggle switch to the on position.

    Aika patiently waits for Thérèse. Although she is a little ways up the hill, Aika can still hear the humming of the motor on Thérèse’s bicycle come nearer to her.

    “Finally! She should have done that three days ago,” Aika thought to herself as Thérèse began to make her way towards her Aika. Suddenly Aika notices that Thérèse’s bicycle is quickly gaining speed and becomes worried that her friend may get hurt. The closer Thérèse gets to Aika, the clearer she can see her face and hear her cheers.

    “Wooo Hooo! You were right Aika, this IS fun!” Thérèse exuberantly yelled as she zipped up the hill, leaving Aika pleasantly dazed in her wake.

    Aika smiled as Thérèse passed the rest of the group one by one, laughing as she made her way to the top of the hill. Even though she was proud of Thérèse, she envied the girls ability to finally let go of her fear and enthusiastically adapt to it.

    “Aika, what are you doing way down here by yourself?” Emilio asked as he made his way alongside of Aika.

    Emilio appeared to be around the same ages as her father, who was turning 51 this year. She had come to grow sweet on the old man and depend on his curious sense of humor to cheer her and the group up when they were all but exhausted after a long day on the road. Aika slowed her motor down to slow, allowing Emilio a chance to catch his breath. Although he owned and ran DuVine Bicycle Adventures who were famous for their motorized bicycles, Emilio chose to keep the same bicycle he had rode for more then 30 years— an adult tricycle he called Daisy. Although Aika was curious about the name, she didn’t dare ask; besides, Daisy carried the groups much needed supplies for the day. Even though she carried a cooler on her backside which contained water and light snacks for the group she was best known for her collection of Italian wines. The group as a whole looked forward to the vintage wine from the local Tuscan vineyards.

    “Aika, may I be as bold as to ask you what brought you to my home, to Tuscany?” Emilio hesitantly and delicately asked Aika.

    If she had been asked such a personal question a week ago, Aika would have been guarded with her answer. In the little time she had spent in the land from her dreams, she had begun to open up.

    “That is a tricky question to answer as it has many layers.” Aika began to explain.

    Emilio quickly interrupted Aika as he stumbled out his words, “I must apologize for the coarseness of my question; it is not my place to ask you to share such personal information.”

    “No need Emilio, I don’t mind telling you. I am honored that you care enough to ask.” Aika said honestly, hoping to relieve the man’s ill placed guilt.

    “Since I was a small child I often dreamed of visiting Italy. Some mornings it was difficult to wake from my dreams because I felt so connected to the land I had never even set foot in. So when I was given this trip to Tuscany as a gift from my Auntie Ren, I was more then surprised as no one but my mother had known of my dreams. You see, this trip was also a gift from my mother who died from cancer shortly after my twin brother, Aiko, and I turned 12.”

    “Aika, I am so very sorry for your loss. It must have been hard growing up without your mother.”

    “Thank you. Yes, at first it was hard because I hadn’t known she was ill. I mean I understood she hadn’t been feeling well but I didn’t know she was fighting for her life. It was difficult not knowing why. Once I found out how long she had really been sick, I began to appreciate the time I had with my mother as a blessing and I vowed that I would always make her proud of me. That is why I always made sure I took care of my father and brother as she did. I cooked their meals from her recipes, hemmed my father’s trousers with her needle, and cleaned the floor with her broom,” Aika explained as they made their way up the steep hill.

    She glanced at Emilio and appreciated the softness in his eyes as he waited for her to continue with her story.

    “It wasn’t until I decided to leave to study to be a teacher of Italian language at University when I felt my first twinge of guilt. I felt as though I was disappointing my mother by not staying with Aiko and father. But I felt a strong urge pushing me to go beyond my comfort zone and enrolled fulltime in the university.”

    “Cheers for you Aika! You should be very proud of yourself.”

    “Thank you Emilio, but until last week I wasn’t proud of my any of my accomplishments, neither finishing four years at the university or graduating near the top of my class. I still felt as though my mother would have liked for me to take care of my family or maybe she’d like it if I was married with children by now. If it wasn’t for my Auntie Ren I would still feel as though I had let mother done. Auntie Ren gave me more than this trip to Tuscany, she bestowed to me the greatest gift I could have received—my mother’s acceptance.”

    Aika could feel the tears once again; they made their way down the familiar path of her face.

    “Aika I am sorry I have upset you by my question, it was neither my intention nor my place to inquire about your personal life.” Emilio said as he fought back the ball which was making its way up his throat.

    With her tears still streaming, Aika stopped her bike and walked it near the side of the road.

    “You must not feel bad Emilio. This story has a happy ending. You see, my Auntie Ren was my mother’s only sister and they spent much time together, especially when the end was near. During this time my mother shared much with her younger sister. My mother shared her secret dreams which were left unfulfilled, the story of young love which bonded her and my father together, and the hopes and dreams she had for Aiko and me. Even though my mother loved being a wife and flourished at being a mother to Aiko and me, she had dreams. She dreamt of foreign lands and a chance to be free.”

    “Here,” Emilio said as he reached inside the pocket of his plaid brown twill coat and handed her a soft red handkerchief.

    Aika immediately used the cloth to wipe off the tears which had collected near the point of her chin. She paused a moment, recognizing something familiar about the red cloth.

    Odd, she thought as she continued telling her story. “You must understand, Emilio, my mother had made my Auntie Ren promise to always nurture my independence, encourage me to dream, promote the importance of being myself, and to promote the idea that true love does exist.”

    “Both your Auntie Ren and your mother sound like wonderful souls, Aika.”

    “They truly are. You see Emilio my mother knew me well enough to understand that it would take a dream to wake me up to reality and allow my dream to become reality. Even though my Auntie was told to present me with trip to Italy, my mother never explained why and my Auntie never asked—she just promised she would. My mother granted my Auntie Ren the freedom to create the trip any way she chose and to decide the right time present it to me,” Aika paused a moment and smiled.

    “Emilio, riding this bicycle alongside this Tuscan country road with you as Thérèse crazily waves down to us from top of this hill. This is my mother’s summit, and this is her dream. This trip is both her wish for me and her gift to me.” Aika concluded.

    Although she had stopped crying, Aika brought the soft cloth Emilio had given her towards her face. She held the open cloth in her hands and brought closer. As she held it, she pressed it against her skin and breathed in its scent, a familiar scent. She kept the cloth there for a moment as she tried to pinpoint the scent. Suddenly her grandmother’s smile and her mother’s laughter came forth into her mind. Ahhh, the scent of roses was a powerful memory conductor. As Aika brought her hands away from her face, she noticed Emilio. He was crying.

    Aika made her way to him, “Silly old man, don’t cry for me. I have been given the greatest gift, a loving mother who even in death is always with me. I am blessed.” And with that she hugged him and kissed him on his cheek.

    “Thank you for sharing your story with me Aika, you have no idea how much it means to me,” Emilio said as they both reached for their bicycles.

    They rode to the top of the hill in silence.

    “What took you both so long? Did you see me Aika? I was going so fast up the hill that I nearly flew off the top.” Thérèse said.

  

Untitled~ Chapter 3

    As the tour group began to become restless, eager to begin their much anticipated bicycle tour, Emilio frantically searched the busy airport crowd for a sign of his two missing tourists. It had been well over and hour ago when he recommended that the young ladies visit Caffé dell'Ussuro. As they were the only tourists travelling alone, he had hoped they would bump in to each other. He often worried when such young girls traveled alone. Although he had no children himself, he was nearly old enough to be their father and being so, began to worry as one. He was very relieved when he saw the two familiar faces in the busy crowded airport making their way towards him.

    “Emilio! Please except my apologies.” Aika said as she came upon the man who looked worried.

    “It was entirely my fault Emilio, please except my apologies. If I hadn’t…” Thérèse began before Emilio caught both girls off guard with a hug and a peck on the cheek.

    “No worries, no worries. Please, join the rest of the group inside the bus. Your tour is about to begin!” Emilio was relieved that the girls had found each other equally as much as he was relieved that they found their way back to the airport.

    Climbing back onboard the air conditioned travel bus; Emilio quickly grabbed the microphone located above the driver’s seat. “Welcome to DuVine Adventures Tuscany Bicycle Tour! I am Emilio, your tour guide. I will be accompanying you during the duration of your experience with DuVine Adventures. Please feel free to come to me with any questions or concerns you may have.”

    Aika and Thérèse made their way to their seats inside the tour bus as Emilio continued.

    “I have worked for DuVine Adventure for 30 years. DuVine Adventures was founded by my grandfather, Giuseppe Bifaro and was passed down to my father, Angelo Bifaro and finally to me, Emilio Bifaro. We are one of the last remaining family run tour groups in Italy and it is my privilege to bike alongside you as we explore Tuscany. We will travel to Etruscan villages, medieval fortresses, and Renaissance masterpieces. But perhaps the greatest masterpiece of this storied land is its wine.” Emilio said with a kidlike chuckle.

    “Again, welcome to Italy. Let us begin your adventure, shall we?” He said as he sunk into his captain seat behind the wheel of the bus.

    Aika and Thérèse were able to find two seats together near the back of the bus where there was plenty of room for Thérèse’s bouquet. The girls spoke very little as they were both exhausted from their flight as well as their adventure thus far. As Aika began to be lulled to sleep by rose scented currents of childhood memories she reached for the Cherry Blossom Kanzashi that Margret had given her. She knew her mother was with her.

Leaving the Nest

          As the days grew nearer to Charles’s departure date, Ann’s motherly nature took hold of every fiber of her being. She was beginning to think that maybe joining the Army wasn't the best choice for him and maybe he should give college one more try (even though during the three semesters he did “try” he managed to achieve academic probation). No, she knew in her heart of hearts, his decision was the right one. This moment wasn't about her, or the ache she felt in every cell of her body, this moment was his and his alone.

          Charles was the oldest of her three children, all boys. He wasn't a “bad” kid, just one without direction. During his high school years he had done the usual rebellion, slacked on his school work, pushed his limits with his attitude and mouth, and even dabbled with marijuana. Although it was this rebellion that would be the very thing that would divide the family, it would ultimately strengthen it. His relationship with his father was strained due to Charles’s inability to securely grip adulthood. Ann and her husband, Miguel, were rarely on the same page when it came to parenting techniques. Miguel had a no-nonsense/traditional approach, whereas Ann had a more non-traditional way of looking at things. Ultimately, their contrast of ideas became too much and their relationship began to dissolve. Thankfully, they were able to strengthen their relationship and co-parent in a way that was healthy for the whole family. They imposed some “tough love” into Charles’s teenage angst world, which created an effect that was far tougher for Ann and Miguel than it was for Charles.

          The months and years to come were hard. It was hard for Ann to watch as Charles would falter, jumping from job to job. His behavior and lack of respect was beginning to affect his two younger brothers. They began to have trouble in school and with their peers. Being supportive for Charles was important but not at the expense of his younger brothers. Eventually, Charles was asked to leave the home. This decision was not only hard to make but it exhausted Ann’s body, mind, and soul. She would often cry alone, her heart breaking for her son, but knowing that their decision was right for him. It would be this heartbreaking turn of events that aided Charles in the choosing the right path towards adulthood.

It had been twelve months, almost to the day, since Ann and Miguel had packed Charles’s bags and sent him out into the world. They now found themselves standing amongst other proud parents inside a small room filled with anxious soon-to-be United States soldiers. It wouldn't be until this moment, the moment when their little boy stood before God, his country, and his two proud parents, that they were finally able to breathe. They had made the right decision; they had swallowed their pride and come together, parenting as one unit as opposed to two.

          During his almost 21 years of life, Charles had lived either at home or within a comfortable distance away from home, close enough for Ann. She had always known this day would come, the day when one of her little “birds” would fly away from the safety of the “nest” she and her husband, Miguel, had created. She began to feel torn between the pride she felt for her son’s decision to join the Army and the gripping pain, knowing that he was no longer going to be her little boy. As she began to rationalize her feelings it became clear to her that he would be all right. Until she breathed her last breath, her job as a mother was far from done; she would always be there for her baby birds, even if it meant kicking them out of the nest. It is a far greater reward to watch as they learn how to fly on their own than it is to enable them never to try.