<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157</id><updated>2011-09-22T09:18:16.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Raw Voices</title><subtitle type='html'>A place to speak freely, say anything and vent if needed. So, speak up.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-4277122131245454975</id><published>2010-08-23T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T22:02:12.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maternity waiting room</title><content type='html'>My husband and I were sitting on the couch a few weeks ago.&amp;nbsp; I noticed how much food he was eating and how much he loved his cookies.&amp;nbsp; We were going back and forth with explanations for the changes in his eating habits.&amp;nbsp; I said to him, " I think you're pregnant". He wasn't that impressed with my assessment.&amp;nbsp; I said "you're giving birth to a new you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I thought about this later, I realized that maybe I was spot on.&amp;nbsp; Riverwalker press, one of the blogs I follow from time to time talked about this process.&amp;nbsp; The holding of tension as we patiently and actively wait for the changes in our lives to unfold and make manifest.&amp;nbsp; I view this process from the standpoint of having been pregnant and waiting through the months of my pregnancy in anticipation of the birth of my children.&amp;nbsp; I waited and it was anything but passive.&amp;nbsp; There were things to do while I waited.&amp;nbsp; I had to eat right, get lots of rest, drink water, make sure I had crackers for the upset stomachs.&amp;nbsp; As the pregnancy progressed, I had doctor appointments, ultrasounds, blood tests. As I got closer still to their births there were other things that needed to be done.&amp;nbsp; I bought a crib, bassinet, baby clothes, bottles.&amp;nbsp; I had a baby shower and my family participated in the preparation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can apply this process to anything that I'm working on.&amp;nbsp; Never once in my pregnancies with my children did I say, "I'm dreaming too big, this will never work", I never once doubted that my baby would be healthy even with my son the premie.&amp;nbsp; The vision in my mind was always of me holding them and of us doing things together.&amp;nbsp; I used to talk to my growing belly and tell them how much they were loved and wanted. What if we did the same with our dreams, our goals?&amp;nbsp; What if we held the vision of the outcome as a family does as they are expecting a child?&amp;nbsp; What if we never waiver and we stay committed?&amp;nbsp; I think that's what the process of manifesting is all about.&amp;nbsp; Declaring what we want to manifest and holding the vision of that outcome and nothing else.&amp;nbsp; What if we collect evidence of our successes instead of our failures?&amp;nbsp; What if we promise ourselves that if we do fail, we fail forward?&amp;nbsp; What if the birth of&amp;nbsp; the truest version of ourselves is really what life is all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go and hang out in the maternity waiting room of my next birth. I'm going to remember to be expectant, to be excited, to do the things I need to do to be prepared.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to practice what it'll feel like when I finally give birth and I'm holding my precious manifestation in my hands.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to remember who I really am and what I'm really made of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-4277122131245454975?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/4277122131245454975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/08/maternity-waiting-room.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4277122131245454975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4277122131245454975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/08/maternity-waiting-room.html' title='Maternity waiting room'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-4774599846429845453</id><published>2010-08-02T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T20:05:21.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Does this help?</title><content type='html'>I know its been a while since I've shared.&amp;nbsp; A lot's happened.&amp;nbsp; I've been pondering the idea of enabling versus helping in many areas of my life.&amp;nbsp; It all came to a head when I re-read my Journal entry from 7/31/10. It said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Is it arrogance to believe that I can help someone by removing the need for them to fend for themselves?&amp;nbsp; Do I force them off their path by doing for them what they must do for themselves?&amp;nbsp; If I truly believe in the divinity of all humanity, why then do I not trust that divinity?&amp;nbsp; Enabling someone is doing for them the things that they should do for themselves. helping, truly helping is offering support, encouragement, and reminding them of their own divinity, reminding them that they can do for themselves.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, see my dilemna.&amp;nbsp; I have spent the last several months asking myself, have I done this person a disservice? Should I leave them to figure things out for themselves?&amp;nbsp; Why do I feel I have to do anything?&amp;nbsp; Should I offer or wait to be asked?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This issue is coming in all areas of my personal and professional life.&amp;nbsp; As I take stock of my relationships and feel their impact, I have to question what is the stuff that keeps us together? Have I robbed my family and friends, business associates of their experiences by thinking that I am in some way responsible for them?&amp;nbsp; I know there was a time when I was much more selfish and self-focused.&amp;nbsp; I didn't help unless I was asked and only as much as I was truly willing to give without feeling resentful or put out.&amp;nbsp; somewhere along the line, there was a payoff for helping that feed me more and the more I felt I was doing the more resentful I became and the more dependent the people in my life became.&amp;nbsp; Now it has to stop.&amp;nbsp; It is OK to be selfish.&amp;nbsp; It is alright to think about myself first and take care of myself first.&amp;nbsp; It is OK to wait to be asked for help and not assume that the other person needs assistance.&amp;nbsp; I believe strongly in the divinity that lives in all humanity.&amp;nbsp; I believe that everyone has the power to do for themselves and the ability to ask for help.&amp;nbsp; Even a baby will cry out when they need something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this help?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-4774599846429845453?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/4774599846429845453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/08/does-this-help.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4774599846429845453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4774599846429845453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/08/does-this-help.html' title='Does this help?'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-4313138480589172613</id><published>2010-03-12T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T21:16:48.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>A very long time ago I wrote a piece with this same title, Changes. It spoke poetically about the impact of dissolving a marriage and walking away from everything.&amp;nbsp; It dissected the many things that changed when something like this occurred.&amp;nbsp; I was 21 at the time and walking away with my daughter and bulging suitcases telling my ex-husband a story about going on vacation and not wanting my mother to miss my daughter growing up.&amp;nbsp; I never returned.&amp;nbsp; My daughter was a year old at the time.&amp;nbsp; I remember the child that I was speaking those irrevocable words now and wonder where she got the nerve to revolt so vehemently against her situation that she was willing to leave it all behind and brave the unknown with a baby girl in tow.&amp;nbsp; How I wish for her gumption sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty five years later, I find myself at yet another crossroad, looking to make a major change in the landscape of my life.&amp;nbsp; I merge the nerve of my younger self with the wisdom I've gained over the years.&amp;nbsp; There is much uncertainty as is expected with any major change but there is also excitement, expectation, and daring.&amp;nbsp; 25 years later I still feel young as crazy as that seems.&amp;nbsp; From this vantage point, I can see the wisdom in that 21 year old as she too said enough and walked away from the familiar to the unknown.&amp;nbsp; Keeping my perspective has been an important aspect of my life's vision.&amp;nbsp; It helps me keep track of my steps. Perspective keeps me humble and helps me look at things from many different angles.&amp;nbsp; I don't always remember this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That 21 year old married again, had another child, had many jobs, started her own business, wrote a book, deepened her spiritual awareness, became some of what she dreamed of becoming.&amp;nbsp; What's surprising to me now is that I still have so many new dreams to pursue, so many places I still want to see.&amp;nbsp; I still love to travel, learn new things, take chances.&amp;nbsp; I am at the point in my life now that I've seen enough, and done enough to know how fragile life really is.&amp;nbsp; I know that fighting for what I want is a lot harder than allowing myself to receive.&amp;nbsp; I know that as much as I've loved and have been loved, the deepest love affair I can ever have is the one I have with myself.&amp;nbsp; I know that the only constant in my life is that change is inevitable.&amp;nbsp; I know that I can start over at any time and that the things I'm comfortable with may be the price I pay for my new life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 46, changes look very different than they did to that 21 year old.&amp;nbsp; Life is very good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-4313138480589172613?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/4313138480589172613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/03/changes.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4313138480589172613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4313138480589172613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/03/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-299413435665662000</id><published>2010-02-10T21:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T08:40:53.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace</title><content type='html'>One of my best friends sent me a wall hanging a while ago, it said "peace, it does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work, it means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."&amp;nbsp; It hangs in my office above my desk as a constant reminder.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I navigate the changes that my life presents, I have to remember to return to my place of peace.&amp;nbsp; As many times as I move away from that place I return to it.&amp;nbsp; Like coming home and settling into my favorite spot on my couch, my favorite book.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm learning, is that I don't have to leave my peace behind as though it was somehow separate from me. I can have it with me always as a choice I make no matter the circumstance, no make the facts or the thing that makes sense.&amp;nbsp; I can express rage, I can love passionately, I can hurt, I can experience my life from a backdrop of peace.&amp;nbsp; Peace has never been a passive state of mind. I don't know why I ever thought it to be so. Peace is fervent, earnest, joyfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a peaceful place, the stresses of life are minimized.&amp;nbsp; From a peaceful&amp;nbsp;mindset, thoughts and feelings are clearer.&amp;nbsp; From a peaceful place, I stand in myself and in my truths, fearlessly.&amp;nbsp; From a peaceful place, I can hold myself in the space I choose and take conscious action instead of&amp;nbsp;reacting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see the difference in my life between&amp;nbsp;practicing&amp;nbsp;this and forgetting.&amp;nbsp; I am practicing more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-299413435665662000?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/299413435665662000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/02/peace.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/299413435665662000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/299413435665662000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/02/peace.html' title='Peace'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-8818929824292978052</id><published>2010-02-07T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T06:38:53.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Charming Snake</title><content type='html'>As a consultant, I get to meet and spend time with a variety of different personalities.&amp;nbsp; As an observer, it's one of the many things I enjoy about what I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, I called someone on behalf of a client and had the experience of meeting a very charming individual that I knew was fishing for free information.&amp;nbsp; We'll call him Bill.&amp;nbsp; Bill was very charming.&amp;nbsp; He asked all the "I'm interested in you" questions; dropped names of people we both know to make me feel connected, you know 6 degrees and all.&amp;nbsp; I watched, listened, and waited for some place that I could insert myself.&amp;nbsp; Nada....nothing...this guy was just on a roll (role).&amp;nbsp; Now the Consultant in me kept saying "time is money, what does he want? what's he looking for?"&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an interesting process to try and reconcile these warring factions.&amp;nbsp; On the one hand, I wanted to find out what he wanted from my client. On the other hand I had to make sure that I gave away enough to make him feel like we needed to take the next step and actually meet.&amp;nbsp; I kept wondering whether I would give too much away to my very charming snake making a face-to-face unnecessary.&amp;nbsp; Finally, he asked who I was and where did I fit into the project he was working on?&amp;nbsp; Then, he did something very surprising, he listened.&amp;nbsp; He understood.&amp;nbsp; He made sense.&amp;nbsp; Of course I knew that this was for his benefit and not necessarily for mine.&amp;nbsp; He was doing his job representing his client as I was representing mine.&amp;nbsp; We both had an objective. We both had a desired outcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason that this encounter is noteworthy for me was the methods that were employed for him to reach his goal.&amp;nbsp; There was no direct communication. He communicated via reference and intimidation.&amp;nbsp; Nothing was meant to be his own thoughts or his own position.&amp;nbsp; Instead, what I observed were put-downs, name dropping to gain validation and a feeble attempt to gain connection with me and establish some common goal.&amp;nbsp; As I hung up the phone, I wondered if I ever appeared so to anyone new I contacted.&amp;nbsp; I pride myself on being able to connect to people in a genuine way and I have employed some of the same techniques as my charmer (name dropping, past employers).&amp;nbsp; Do I also appear insincere?&amp;nbsp; Do I also leave a conversation with the person thinking "what was she up to?"&amp;nbsp; I hope not.&amp;nbsp; My charmer was an interesting mirror.&amp;nbsp; I wonder how many of my business conversation end with the person thinking &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;'she was a very charming snake'&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-8818929824292978052?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/8818929824292978052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/02/charming-snake.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/8818929824292978052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/8818929824292978052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2010/02/charming-snake.html' title='Charming Snake'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-1897028102646013762</id><published>2009-12-23T07:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T11:49:38.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions</title><content type='html'>I wanted to say this before the frenzied urge to change began.&amp;nbsp; I started to think about this in November. Probably in the middle of some seemingly pressing life challenge that had me wishing for the early demise of the year.&amp;nbsp; The Universe packed a lot of lessons into this year. Thank the Gods, but enough already.&amp;nbsp; SO about resolutions.&amp;nbsp; I probably stopped making them when my bad habits were needed to combat my frustrations.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as I considered the end of 2009 and&amp;nbsp;looked to 2010 with great expectation and excitement, I realized that there&amp;nbsp;is one main thing&amp;nbsp;I wanted to resolve once and for all.&amp;nbsp; This thing has been a comfort for most of my adult life especially when I considered the alternative. I have enjoyed this thing and used it successfully to excuse many manageable behaviors.&amp;nbsp; It helped me feel good, safe, coccooned in warmth and cradled in comfort.&amp;nbsp; Unfortunately, I have always been able to be an observer of my life as well as a participant.&amp;nbsp; In the mode of observer that I almost always return to, I've been able to see this thing for what it really is, a crutch.&amp;nbsp; A really valid excuse to ignore myself, a really good reason not to change.&amp;nbsp; I mean fear is real right? Feeling safe is important, right?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the thing that has challenged me is my weight.&amp;nbsp; As a person who has thrived&amp;nbsp;through incest and rape, my weight was a great hiding place for me.&amp;nbsp; After all, no one would want a body that was this much overweight. I would have panic attacks when I lost significant weight. I would hear the tapes of former thoughts replayed in my mind....This was your fault; If you didn't look like that no one would've done this to you; You have no one else to blame but yourself; You made&amp;nbsp;them do this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rationally I know that incest and rape have nothing to do with the person who is being attacked and everything to do with the attacker.&amp;nbsp; These are not sexual acts, but acts of violence.&amp;nbsp; I could not prevent what happened to me.&amp;nbsp; No matter how much I weigh now or then, if someone put their minds to attacking me, they would still come.&amp;nbsp; I also know that I was a child and this was not my fault.&amp;nbsp; As I say it again now, I can feel the truth and conviction of those words.&amp;nbsp; So, if I embrace the weight I am or work to change it, I now get to do that for me.&amp;nbsp; Not in reaction to something I've already forgiven but as a conscious choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I resolve to be free of that past.&amp;nbsp; I resolve to take the final steps in bringing that little girl out from the shadows and into the Light.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I resolve to be mindful of what I eat. I resolve to put myself first.&amp;nbsp; I resolve to move more. I resolve to be happy in my body. I resolve to be gentle with myself. I resolve to rest more. I resolve to take care of myself.&amp;nbsp; I resolve to ask for help when I need it. I resolve to be the best version of me.&amp;nbsp; I resolve to treat this temple that is my body with reverence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So mote it be!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-1897028102646013762?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/1897028102646013762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/resolutions.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/1897028102646013762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/1897028102646013762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-1339432116678061169</id><published>2009-12-21T02:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T11:53:41.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yule / Solstice</title><content type='html'>My community and I celebrated the Winter Solstice on Saturday night. The actual Solstice day is today and is the longest night.&amp;nbsp; After today, the days begin to once again grow longer.&amp;nbsp; This day is a celebration of the rebirth of the Sun and in Wiccan commnities, the celebration would include the lighting of fires, candles, dancing, drumming, chanting all in celebration of the Sun's gaining power over the darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time of year inspires introspection, evaluation and rumination.&amp;nbsp; It's a time to look at where the year has taken us and whether there is someplace else we may want to go.&amp;nbsp; We light fires for warmth against the cold as well as a symbol of the growing heat of the Sun.&amp;nbsp; Fire transforms all that it touches and is an important elelment to work with during this time.&amp;nbsp; We celebrate not only the growing light but we recognize that the darkness and cold are also important.&amp;nbsp; Without these times we get too caught up in the doing and busyness of life and forget to take stock, to go within.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This celebration and subsequent introspection is a part of our religious practice as Wiccans. It is&amp;nbsp;about moving in time with the pulls of Nature.&amp;nbsp; All else is asleep, why are we fussing?&amp;nbsp; The bear is long asleep in her cave.&amp;nbsp; The groundhog and rabbits are in their burrows well stocked for the needs of winter.&amp;nbsp; Yet, here we are busy.&amp;nbsp; As Americans unless our lives are centered around the seasons, we don't always take the time to notice their passing.&amp;nbsp; A farmer would, a beekeeper, anyone who works outdoors, anyone that drives for a living.&amp;nbsp; We tend to see the seasons in relation to the holidays and forget the natural world around us.&amp;nbsp; The trees have their winter coats on, as do the deer.&amp;nbsp; The seeming barrenness of the trees always reminds me of their bravery, their willingness to move with and surrender to&amp;nbsp;Nature's urgings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, have a wonderful holiday season and embrace the gift that this time of introspection offers freely, willingly and without attachment.&amp;nbsp; Give yourself a gift of silence and time to truly reflect on what has passed, not to dwell on it but to learn from it and look forward to the New Year with expectancy, excitement.&amp;nbsp; Declare the year you want to have and allow yourself to have it.&amp;nbsp; Here's a&amp;nbsp;hint:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;if the lesson you glean from your introspection does not lighten your heart and put a smile on your face, you're doing it wrong....LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a glorius Yuletide&amp;nbsp;season!!&amp;nbsp; Enjoy the time of quiet.&amp;nbsp; Embrace the New Year with joy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Yule!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-1339432116678061169?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/1339432116678061169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/yule-solstice.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/1339432116678061169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/1339432116678061169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/yule-solstice.html' title='Yule / Solstice'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-7245180445073591332</id><published>2009-12-17T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T20:11:04.354-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Epitaph</title><content type='html'>I was talking today about the many people I've lost in the past 6 months.&amp;nbsp; It was an interesting feeling to&amp;nbsp; purposely remember them.&amp;nbsp; A couple of them I had never met but I could empathize with my friends who lost their loved ones.&amp;nbsp; I could remember what it felt like when it was me in abject disbelief that this person so full of life could be gone.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many beliefs about what happens when you die.&amp;nbsp; Some&amp;nbsp;say that we are lost forever and that our life is over, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.&amp;nbsp; Really? I don't know about that.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some say that&amp;nbsp;we are evaluated, judged by the divine&amp;nbsp;who&amp;nbsp;then decides whether our eternity will be spent in heaven or hell. Others have a belief in pergutory, a holding place that allows us to repent for our sins and be forgiven.&amp;nbsp; That seems like punishment as well. I mean if I make mistake, shouldn't I be taught better? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mourn my friends and empathize with other friends about those we've lost, I have a hard time with any scenarios that doesn't lead to new life and bliss.&amp;nbsp; I remember when Princess Di and Mother Theresa died, we were living in Brooklyn.&amp;nbsp; I was sitting on my stoop saddened by these losses and an image came into my mind that persisted.&amp;nbsp; I saw the Earth spinning away in Space surrounded in Light.&amp;nbsp; The energies of the those that had crossed over were adding their energies to the collection of light beings supporting those of us left behind.&amp;nbsp; I believe&amp;nbsp;we do go everywhere all at once.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The limitations we allowed when we had bodies are released at the time of death and the magnificence of our souls explodes into everywhere.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like those that have crossed over are&amp;nbsp;still with me, inspiring me, protecting me, nudging me, letting me know I'm loved.&amp;nbsp; For the ones that I knew personally, my memories of them come up at interesting times. Pouring a glass of wine in one of Rosemary's old glasses or wearing the hematite necklace that Barbara made for me.&amp;nbsp; Sitting outside in the sun with Margaret having lunch. Ted taught me how to use the image of the dragon to call in the quarters before&amp;nbsp;meditation and to meditate&amp;nbsp;with them.&amp;nbsp; They left an indelible mark on me.&amp;nbsp; I can remember them and celebrate them.&amp;nbsp; Whatever conflict there was in our relationship doesn't matter anymore.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There transition taught me that nothing matters but the next heart beat, the next breath and with each comes new opportunity, with each comes change and new perspective if we allow it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the lesson in all this change is, why not now?&amp;nbsp; I'll forgive you eventually so why not now? Why not allow the experience of bliss now? Why not allow the experience of joy, now? Why not love, hope, laugh, now? Why not smile now? Why not appreciate what I have now?&amp;nbsp; There really is nothing worthy of our unhappiness. There really is nothing more important than our joy.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you're probably thinking that your situation is different, your anger is justified, your pain is different.&amp;nbsp; What if it's not?&amp;nbsp; What if my anger, pain, disappointment is just as real and significant as yours?&amp;nbsp; What if I simply chose a different perspective? What if I just gave&amp;nbsp;mine a different level of priority and made my happiness more important than my circumstance?&amp;nbsp; What if I just looked at my life from the standpoint of my epitaph and asked myself how important is this really from that vantage point?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I ponder the lives of those that crossed over, I know I haven't lost them really. They just get to be available to a lot more people and they are lending their energy to assist us with bodies to enjoy ourselves and be happy.&amp;nbsp; I would prefer to imagine my loved ones this way.&amp;nbsp; We really do live forever.&amp;nbsp; Our bodies just wear out ever so often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you later Rosie, Margaret, Ted, Paul, Tina's brother, Edgar's brother, Barbara. Thanks for taking care of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-7245180445073591332?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/7245180445073591332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/epitaph.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7245180445073591332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7245180445073591332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/epitaph.html' title='Epitaph'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-7778898994806727822</id><published>2009-12-09T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T21:31:52.334-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Watching</title><content type='html'>On my ex-husband’s 46th birthday, our daughter and her husband closed on their new apartment. I heard my head say “my little girl owns her own place.” I understood more now what that woman had said to me about how it feels&amp;nbsp;to watch her daughter grow up and be a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a watcher all my life. From watching my Father’s birds in their cage, I watched the fear in my Mother’s face the night he threatened to kick her up and heard it in her voice the night he brought me back from that adventure on the back of his bicycle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched as my aunt was thrown into the mirror on her wardrobe by her husband and watched again when she retaliated by breaking a plate on his head. I watched as his blood stained the pillow. I watched too when she told her mother that she had thrown away her wedding ring and watched her dug up the yard to find it. I watched as Morris' body&amp;nbsp;was driven away in a car never to walk me to the store again and watched again as his spirit came to visit me, all this before I was nine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched as my mother’s husband molested and raped me and watched as my childhood receded. I watched as we lived our&amp;nbsp;very high life and watched as&amp;nbsp;friends walked away when the light of truth was shown. I watched as our lives crumbled and watched myself spin out of control. All before I was 14. I watched it all. Some things I remember, some I see on my movie screen as an outsider, an observer, separate. So many ways to feel; So many points of rage and sadness; so much time past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New page, new day, my daughter gives me hope. She was the first right thing I had ever done in my life. She made up for all the pain. She is the reason I would not change the past because I’m afraid that I’d miss her and that whatever the&amp;nbsp;ingredients were that went into her making would somehow be lost. I am here for her and now also for my son. They are my reason my why, my reward for this past. They give me hope. Would he be different if he weren’t a premie? Would he be as sensitive, as intuitive as caring? Would he remember the things he does, attract the people he draws to himself, be as loved as he is. I would be unrecognizable without them. They saved my life, gave me a reason to live when the hole in my soul threatened to consume me. I remember why and the why extends to the people I can touch with my work, to the people I impact in my job. I remember the rest of my family the ones born to different mothers. I pull myself from the ledge, have a good cry for myself and find someone to talk to. I remember how fortunate I am to have my circle and I am humbled in the presence of the Old Ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surely now I can begin to look at myself. Surely now the path can turn within. Surely now I can take inventory of all that I have for my journey. I love and am loved in return. Love was never our problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-7778898994806727822?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/7778898994806727822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/watching.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7778898994806727822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7778898994806727822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/watching.html' title='Watching'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-5993012030563199294</id><published>2009-12-08T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T20:44:17.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the slave in chains and the slaveholder&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the child whose life was taken and the Mother that took it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the Earth that is dying as my body is dying&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the fucking evening news and the smiling face that reports it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the mangled body of a hungry child and the one that says "it's someone else’s problem"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the victim of countless crimes and the perpetrators of those crimes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the light that shines from the sky and the sky itself&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the creator, the chooser, the One&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am all there is and the limitless possibility of what can be&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am the chosen One.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Written February 1996&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-5993012030563199294?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/5993012030563199294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/who-am-i.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/5993012030563199294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/5993012030563199294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/who-am-i.html' title='Who Am I?'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-8102913156063316533</id><published>2009-12-07T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T20:18:07.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;There are places that I go that are secret.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Secret from the world of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;ambition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;accomplishments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;strategies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Secret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Secret from the world of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;obligations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Secret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Places I can go and let &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;my hair down &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;my clothes down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;my guard down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;There are places where I am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;nobody’s anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;no labels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;no roles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;undefined&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Those that know me in my secret places&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;would not speak what they witness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;to those outside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;the trick is to connect&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;within to without&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;above to below&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;There are places that I go that are secret.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-8102913156063316533?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/8102913156063316533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/secret.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/8102913156063316533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/8102913156063316533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/secret.html' title='Secret'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-5774113688106578326</id><published>2009-12-01T23:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T23:01:29.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The dog that saw a rainbow</title><content type='html'>Thanks to the movie Kate and Leopold, I learned that dogs don't see color, who knew? Certainly not me.&amp;nbsp; I have been using this as an analogy for staying true to my vision.&amp;nbsp; I am a business owner and I am quite passionate about my business and I'm very hands on.&amp;nbsp; I can analyze data, review facts, read contracts, write policies, manage anything but at the end of the day if the results of my activities don't pass the gut check, I won't move forward.&amp;nbsp; I think quite effectively on my feet and in motion.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My partners and I don't always see eye-to-eye on things and that's ok the diversity of thought and perspective is important.&amp;nbsp; Where they lose me is when the day-to-day struggles of running a business in this economy are allowed to be bigger than the business itself.&amp;nbsp; I believe in what I'm doing. We are already successful and the proof is on it's way. I am always that dog that sees the colors of the rainbow. I am always the one to stay positive. The glass is always half full.&amp;nbsp; Somtimes those beliefs are only skin deep as I face the challenges of my life. Most of the time I know and that knowing sees me past the obstacles.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I invite you to join me in being the dog that sees the rainbow no matter how gray life may appear to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-5774113688106578326?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/5774113688106578326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/dog-that-saw-rainbow.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/5774113688106578326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/5774113688106578326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/12/dog-that-saw-rainbow.html' title='The dog that saw a rainbow'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-8772268981535223221</id><published>2009-11-30T20:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T21:29:32.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gentleman</title><content type='html'>I know that some women feel somewhat put out when a man stands when they walk into a room or holds the door open for them, leads them into or out of a room and takes their coat at the coat check counter.&amp;nbsp; I have often wondered why these acts are so offensive to them. I had a wonderful&amp;nbsp;opportunity to spend time with a true gentleman.&amp;nbsp; He was soft spoken, smiled easily, quick witted, easy to talk to and lots to say, he was kind.&amp;nbsp; There was no discomfort in his way of being. This is just who he is.&amp;nbsp; He wasn't trying to impress me, or hit on me, or demean me in anyway. He wanted to hear what I had to say and wanted to share his thoughts as well. It was truly wonderful to meet and spend time with this person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ladies, it's ok to be treated like a lady. It takes nothing from us or our abilities.&amp;nbsp; Yes, I can pull in my own chair, put on and take off my own coat. I can open my own door and ask the waiter for more water or wine.&amp;nbsp; I can do all those things for myself and it's nice that there are men in the world who feel perfectly comfortable doing all those things for me with no strings attached, no ulterior motive.&amp;nbsp; I am not less intelligent, or less anything else.&amp;nbsp; It is simply how I prefer to be treated and I was fortunate enough to spend time with someone today who was perfectly comfortable with my preference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once told me that the Women's movement did more to harm women than anything else.&amp;nbsp; I don't know that it did more to harm us.&amp;nbsp; I think that somehow though our ways of being that were natural to us were undermined in someway. We judged those who wanted to be mothers as somewhat less ambitious.&amp;nbsp; From the perspective of my present, I can honestly say that I have no regrets in my life. Every thing I 've done has brought me to this moment.&amp;nbsp; I have often wondered what my now would be like if I wasn't so driven in my career.&amp;nbsp; How&amp;nbsp;would my now look&amp;nbsp;if I had&amp;nbsp;been a fulltime Mom?&amp;nbsp; What would my children be like?&amp;nbsp; Don't get me wrong, we managed to raise 2 successful children but I do wonder sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am many things in this world.&amp;nbsp; I am a mother, a wife, a business owner, a friend, a daughter, a traveller but first and foremost a lady who enjoys being treated as such.&amp;nbsp; So, I call forth the gentleman in every man.&amp;nbsp; Chivalry is not dead, its just been on&amp;nbsp;a hiatus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-8772268981535223221?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/8772268981535223221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/11/gentleman.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/8772268981535223221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/8772268981535223221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/11/gentleman.html' title='Gentleman'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-4270893979635813083</id><published>2009-11-28T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T23:07:01.738-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Recycle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/SxIcXBHk3cI/AAAAAAAAABY/ScU5nuutqB0/s1600/New+Pics+-+0909-1109+084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/SxIcXBHk3cI/AAAAAAAAABY/ScU5nuutqB0/s200/New+Pics+-+0909-1109+084.jpg" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Beautiful morning beautiful road no traffic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Monster recycling truck pulls out blocking my view, my space&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;How do I get around it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Slow moving monster down my still beautiful street&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The monster turns where I turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Goes where I go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I want to be in front of the monster &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I want him behind me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;New turn, new road, broken yellow lines, no traffic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I rev my engine cross the line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Leaving the recycling truck far behind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Triumphant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;“That was easy”, I thought&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My views returned, expansive, rolling hills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My space returned, no barriers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Enjoying my beautiful morning, beautiful road&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;What happened? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I chose what I wanted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Universe responded with clear vision&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I acted, no barriers, just action&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-4270893979635813083?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/4270893979635813083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/11/recycle.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4270893979635813083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/4270893979635813083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/11/recycle.html' title='Recycle'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/SxIcXBHk3cI/AAAAAAAAABY/ScU5nuutqB0/s72-c/New+Pics+-+0909-1109+084.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-7721248218954351335</id><published>2009-11-25T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T19:48:27.934-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conformity</title><content type='html'>Many of the people that know me would probably describe me as unconventional, different, on the fringes.&amp;nbsp; I would probably echo those comments and add some of my own.&amp;nbsp; I may even tell myself or say out loud that I don't care what anyone thinks of me or of how I live and that is true to a point.&amp;nbsp; When it came to my family and the things that affect my children I cared very much what people thought. I did not want to be the reason for my children to stand out from the crowd.&amp;nbsp; "Yeah, there's so and so she/he has such a weird Mom".&amp;nbsp; I didn't want to be THAT Mom.&amp;nbsp; So, I did my craziness at home and had a somewhat benign face for the public. People could tell I was a bit different but it was more interesting at least that's what I think.&amp;nbsp; I never heard anyone give my kids a hard time because of the choices I made except for once and that was from a particularly racist child so that doesn't count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my husband and I separated last year, we spent a lot of time rehashing what happened, why it happened, whose fault it was, how do we fix it, how do we change it?&amp;nbsp; I went around and around in my head. We fought, we yelled, we screamed.&amp;nbsp; I used to wait until I got to work to put on my makeup because I would cry all the way to work. I'd arrive at work, duck into the ladies room, put on my game face and get to work.&amp;nbsp; I could be sarcastic and participate in the male bashing prevalent in many offices.&amp;nbsp; I'd get into my car at the end of the day and rehash my day and realize the price I paid for my conformity.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah we were separated but I didn't hate him. I didn't like a lot of the things he did but we have kids that we raised together.&amp;nbsp; That means something to me.&amp;nbsp; He still had a key to the house until recently, he would come in and make tea every morning and bring our son to school.&amp;nbsp; He would come over&amp;nbsp;most nights after work and see him again.&amp;nbsp; We would hug each other and then he'd leave and go back to his place.&amp;nbsp; After a while the reasons for the fighting waned and I would think, I could be married like this.&amp;nbsp; Think about it, I had the best of both worlds.&amp;nbsp; I had my own space, I had an oasis in my home, I had peace. I could recharge my batteries.&amp;nbsp; It was great.&amp;nbsp; There were some things to work out but for the most part we were very much a family.&amp;nbsp; Not a conventional family with parents living under the same roof, Dad going off the work, Mom staying home and taking care of things.&amp;nbsp; We're different.&amp;nbsp; Mom and Dad live in different places and we're happier than we've been in 10 years.&amp;nbsp; We laugh more and can make fun easier.&amp;nbsp; We still fight from time to time but we have our own addresses to go to and think and regroup the next day.&amp;nbsp; We apologize easier and try harder to mean it.&amp;nbsp; Who says that you have to hate the other person because the relationship is over?&amp;nbsp; Most times it is the best thing for everyone involved and in time it can lead to much happier people.&amp;nbsp; So I'm giving myself permission to fully embrace my unconventional nature and fully put&amp;nbsp;the idea of conformity aside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-7721248218954351335?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/7721248218954351335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/11/conformity.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7721248218954351335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7721248218954351335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/11/conformity.html' title='Conformity'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-237873670422482381</id><published>2009-10-17T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T22:45:45.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Over It</title><content type='html'>'Get Over It' is the title of one of my favorite Eagles songs and it is very funny as well as being very direct which my sarcastic personality can appreciate. It's not until you're over something that you really see how hard and how long you held onto it. Then you can give yourself the chance to really analyze it to understand why you held on so long and so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently began the "Get Over It" process as I felt myself release a relationship. There was no fanfare to mark my final release. No angelic hosts seranading my freedom. No external excitement whatsoever. It was a profound shift in my focus. Suddenly, the angst was gone. I felt me become important and not them. New thoughts popped into my head. It was so instantaneous when the shift occurred that it took me a few days to fully embrace what I was experiencing for the first time in a really long time. I was thinking of myself and the things that would make me happy. I was not considering anyone else in my thinking because I was confident that their happiness, or wellbeing, or life was not mine to consider. I am a Mother and my children are grown. I am single, young, and FREE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I want to pick up and move across the country, I can. If I want to walk away from the life I live now and start a new one someplace else, I can. If I want to sit still for a while, I can. If I want to have a wild crazy affair, I can. I can do anything I want. There is no one else to make happy but me and the truth that my freedom has shown me is that there never was anyone else to make happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not easy to let go of the things that I held close. But when I did, the shift was profound. So whether you're married or single, young or old, man or woman, I am here to declare in a loud strong voice, BE HAPPY!! There is no one else in your life more important than you. Whatever is between you and your happiness, Get Over It.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-237873670422482381?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/237873670422482381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/10/get-over-it.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/237873670422482381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/237873670422482381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/10/get-over-it.html' title='Get Over It'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-7033631618149702872</id><published>2009-10-08T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T17:30:31.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marisa's Diary</title><content type='html'>Why does your god care what you wear?&lt;br /&gt;To go to the altar in worship and prayer&lt;br /&gt;Does god care so much for the cost of your clothes?&lt;br /&gt;That he doesn’t mind the way you turn up your nose&lt;br /&gt;At the ones who show up in their best Sunday rags&lt;br /&gt;And carry their purses in brown paper bags&lt;br /&gt;Do his teachings encourage your bigotry?&lt;br /&gt;Do they really say your path is the best one for me?&lt;br /&gt;Will heaven be denied to the ones who care less?&lt;br /&gt;For the cost of stained glass, that the rich man has blessed&lt;br /&gt;Or will the final day of reckoning show crystal clear&lt;br /&gt;The things held in our hearts are the things that we fear&lt;br /&gt;For the poor will always be welcomed in kind&lt;br /&gt;By those who know the truth of things divine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-7033631618149702872?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/7033631618149702872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/10/marisas-diary.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7033631618149702872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7033631618149702872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/10/marisas-diary.html' title='Marisa&apos;s Diary'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-7248690427949474206</id><published>2009-10-03T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T17:55:09.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A non-Christian take on Jesus</title><content type='html'>I am always leery when people ask whether I'm a Christian. I immediately feel defensive because I am convinced that their idea of Christian and mine are completely different.  I assume (right or wrong) that they are referring to the accepted (narrow) way that Christians are defined.  I never like definitions. I find them to be very limiting.  I don't think that an idea as grand as the one that Jesus presented can be boxed and packaged the way that organized (loose term) religion has tried to do. His messages were expansive, transformative, thought provoking.  They were then written down long after he walked the Earth and translated from several different languages to English.  Then you add in the political and financial uses of his teachings to garner wealth, control the masses, and direct political change.  Don't you think with all those factors in play that maybe the Bible should not be taken literally?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The messages of love, peace, community, mindfulness, thoughfulness, tolerance, compassion, charity are lost in rules that take away free will, ideas that condemn, and activities that exclude.  I am particularly concerned when supposed religious authority assumes to hold special access to the divine and to Jesus.  More and more we are uncovering text long buried that present a Jesus and a teaching far and away more liberating than what we see in churches and experience from their attendees.  His message was always one of love in all its expressions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please don't misunderstand, I am not anti-Christian.  I am against those that would use an idea as uplifting as a belief in something greater than oneself as a means to control, enslave, exclude and persecute.  For the record, all books are divinely inspired even the ones we don't agree with.  All stories are from the perspective of the storyteller.  There are no absolutes.  Don't let these illusions deter you from getting to know the greater parts of you.  There is no need for an intercession with the divine.  We are already connected to the divine.  There is no separation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I do believe in Jesus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-7248690427949474206?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/7248690427949474206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/10/non-christian-take-on-jesus.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7248690427949474206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/7248690427949474206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/10/non-christian-take-on-jesus.html' title='A non-Christian take on Jesus'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-909294532683388022</id><published>2009-09-07T22:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T22:15:13.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wisest Part of Me</title><content type='html'>There must’ve been a part of me that knew&lt;br /&gt;When first I stepped upon this path&lt;br /&gt;That life would be an adventure&lt;br /&gt;If I’d only open my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someplace in me&lt;br /&gt;Surely saw my kids&lt;br /&gt;And knew they would be precious&lt;br /&gt;No matter what I did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wisest parts of me&lt;br /&gt;Knew that I’d feel pain&lt;br /&gt;And also knew that it would never&lt;br /&gt;Outweigh the truths I’d gain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The divine in me surely knew&lt;br /&gt;That I’d be plagued by doubt&lt;br /&gt;Yet felt assured of my wisdom&lt;br /&gt;As I sorted my life out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wiser me that lives inside&lt;br /&gt;Knew I’d learn to trust&lt;br /&gt;The actions that I would take&lt;br /&gt;When Spirit said I must&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am unsure again&lt;br /&gt;Of what my next step should be&lt;br /&gt;Consult I will as I always do&lt;br /&gt;The wisest part of me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-909294532683388022?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/909294532683388022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/09/wisest-part-of-me.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/909294532683388022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/909294532683388022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/09/wisest-part-of-me.html' title='The Wisest Part of Me'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474800512880654157.post-6284724249145808281</id><published>2009-09-07T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T21:21:58.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stages</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #000099; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A friend and I were having a glass of wine yesterday and talking about our relationships.  I am separated.  At one time in this process, I would have said happily separated, having deluded myself into believing that somehow the dismantling of 17 years of marriage was over and I had moved on.  Hah!! What a crock?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #000099; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #000099; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's been over a year and I have felt every emotion deeply, profoundly and more come to visit with me everyday.  Right now I'm back to sadness; having passed anger, resentment and disbelief on the way.  Somehow this sadness feels fresh and new and deep, as if the first visit was a dress rehearsal, now the real pain begins.  Is that even possible?  I have glimpses of happiness; moments so sweet that they well up and overtake me and i know that what I'm feeling is real and I drown myself in it.  I let that moment wash over me like a wave and I am the beach receiving the bounty that it brings.  What I find is that when I let myself enjoy those moments, the sadness is lessened.  When I remember them as vividly as I do the faces of my children, I can get through the next stage.  I can be hopeful, expectant even. I can allow myself to daydream and in my imaginings, I can see past the sadness, the disbelief, the disappointment, the anger and know that I will be happy again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474800512880654157-6284724249145808281?l=rawvoices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/feeds/6284724249145808281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/09/stages.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/6284724249145808281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474800512880654157/posts/default/6284724249145808281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rawvoices.blogspot.com/2009/09/stages.html' title='Stages'/><author><name>RawVoices</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07827795896760585297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6lhn9IENM_o/TGIgcxGdYCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/N_mfB1Q_dvM/S220/DSC05659.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
