This blog of mine has changed direction concerning content so often that I’ve come to think of it as mirroring whatever is happening in my life on any given day.
At first, I’d thought to write about how best to save a marriage (mine) which had grown complacent, over the years. And penning a series of posts that fleshes in this highly personal story remains uppermost in my mind to this very day.
Next thing I knew, my mind had shifted into reverse, and compelling snapshots of my childhood graced post after post. At that point in time, I saw my blog as a vehicle, which, populated with insights, would offer up workable solutions to life’s classic problems, and thus would I flesh in my saga of family life.
At times, I found myself penning conversations that my power of intuitive imagination engaged in with the spirits of sages throughout the ages.
And I’m sure you caught me pontificating from time to time.
When my precious mother died at the age of one hundred, I assuaged my grief by posting stories about my grandparents’sojourn to America from Russia and Poland as well as penning stories about my Mom and Dad from their earliest years until they’d met, fallen in love, married and happily found themselves loving parents at the moment of my birth.
As some of my stories concerning my childhood were very hard to write, my intuition, in cahoots with my subconscious, grabbed hold of my brain, and my fingers flew around the keyboard as though all on their own. In short, the conscious portion of my brain had no clue of whatever I’d felt inner need to expose until my intuition had need of taking a break, offering my processor’s sense of conscious thought time to read over that which had just been penned.
In other words, I learned lots about my past as details, which had been buried within a mental block, began to surface, making sense of conflicting perceptions that I’d ‘felt’ (rather than ‘known’) about myself as well as about those I love and an loved in return. And each time insights pieced puzzling situations together, a bigger picture concerning my contradicting character traits, which had created my whole, began to make sense.
Some of my most worthy posts shared insights into how I’d encouraged lasting friendships to form with my three sons by raising and disciplining each one with equal portions of love, logic, trust, self respect, humor and a whale of patience. In short, my sons had no doubts about the value system that created the lasting foundation of our mutually respectful family bonds
And if memory serves me, I think several posts referenced raising siblings who’d learned to transform natural rivalries into becoming each other’s best friends during the eighteen years that each one had spent growing up neath the flexible wing of a mom who’d placed a high value upon family meetings whence everyone shared that which made them feel uniquely valued as individuals while we discussed the concept of change as being the only constant in life. And based in the fact that each of my sons felt seen and heard and loved and thus, emotionally safe to expose his vulnerabilities, mine was the ear that my sons chose to seek out whenever life felt confusing, disappointing or fearsome. And so, you can see why I continue to feel need to pen many more stories as our family saga continues to unfold.
Then once cancer invaded my body, my storyteller retreated from center stage, and though survival grabbed hold of my mind, my spirit remains determined to thrive to this very day …
And in terms of what my power of intuitive thought felt need to say as 2022 winds down, that’s a wrap for today—
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