Lemon lemonaid

Lemon Story -part 2

October 1, 2017Leave a comment

Meadow Witch.jpg — “Meadow Witch” -sylvanfairy 2017

And this semi melodic instrument, the bicycle, was only the beginnings of her finding freedom outside the Castle.

Little did she know it would be the first tool in her escapism, the next, would be wine.

And that was a nice excuse for townsfolk to use against her. Her “stupid babbling” comments, her “crazy obsessiveness” with her truth. Her “not making any sense”. “She’s drunk!”

The firewood was being gathered. Oh, the easy divert of kindling! Blessed be the maid on wine. Blessed be the Queen’s fall.

***

It’s always hard to get outside when you’ve been caged. But it’s easy for the Cagers fingers to get inside. Even if it’s “only an accident”. And it was really “only a knuckle.”

***

So, no one believed she would do it. get the bike and go.

Or that she could even ride up the bramble filled hill they all saw in sight.

But that’s one reason she actually did it. It pleasured her. It made her whole again.

The hill was no less a mountain than the laundry pilings on the floor, or the oceans that she swam through as a mother of six; bone on bone grindings during birth, blindings never imagined, wrenchings of a Mother Heart, openings of a Witch forgotten.

No less a mountain.

No less the chaotic painful mountain she was used to traveling on a daily basis.

The unmanageable schedules of the court’s heirs, the deceitful patriarchy in which the castle was run, a kingdom undone. No less a mountain.

She peddled hard.

What I am Worth

September 22, 2017Leave a comment

*this is what Discounting looks like* FINANCIAL ABUSE

lemon lemon aid what I am worth

journal July 2013

Visiting the marriage counselor…

Counselor – “Lets establish a said amount for groceries then. How much do have in your pocket right now?”

He- no words

Counselor – “She lives like she is on food stamps”

He -keeps wallet in his pocket

Counselor -” how bout we just say there could be envelopes for her titled “Birthdays, “Groceries”, “Holidays”, “Thanksgiving”, “Christmas”, etc”. So she can plan and not ask”

Him- “She doesn’t contribute financially”

Me – fighting for my thoughts, “I’m a mom. This is not contributing?”

Counselor – “He’s not going to like this. I suggest we make a list of the money that gets spent, from who and how, and where it comes from. You should give her some of the cash in your wallet now so she can get a coffee ”

I got handed some cash. $40. two twenties

lemonlemonaid What I am worth

I’m not Crazy

September 17, 2017September 17, 2017Leave a comment

*This is what GASLIGHTING looks like…

Journal excerpt – 4/11/2011 -waiting for my daughter at the social workers office

Joiurnal FEAR lemon blog I am not crazy

I know I am not perfect. I could be crazy. He told me that.

The anxiety level is beyond belief.

Where is he though?

He has never been here, in this office.

The social worker takes “attendance’ – because she is a social worker.

Fuck everyone that says I shouldn’t try. Or never do.

He says I am “screwed up”.

He screamed at me in the other night in front of my oldest son

“She needs medication!”

“She is crazy!”

“Do you see what she is doing to our family?”

-because I am learning about abuse in my beautiful family, and trying to save everyone, and be connected to what they are working on, and talking about it, and wishing he was standing with me.

Journal lemon blog I am not crazy

I am not crazy

I do not need medication no matter how many times he tells me that.

I am learning things I think he doesn’t want me to learn, and when I learn them and say them he somehow turns them around to make me try and think I am crazy and unreasonable and makes sure everyone else listening also thinks that.

I am not crazy.

*GASLIGHTING

The Lemon Lady

September 16, 2017Leave a comment

Journal Excerpt – July 31, 2011

Sometimes the thought of a fresh lemon slice is all I need for peace.

Citrus scented joy in a single moment, prompted by the chatty voice of a woman at the grocery store…excited about how many lemons she did not need to buy because she all ready had enough, at home. Enough, all ready.

I stood in the grocery store fruit department like a ghost. All the fruit singing at me.

That single idea… that someone out there might be making fresh lemonade, made me relish in that imagined lemon slice. It turned me. I will never forget it.

Bright, cheerful, lemon. Glass pitcher and ice.

So, I bought one.

I took it home and sliced it up, set it next to the sink full of dirty dishes and looked at it while I washed and cooked. I smelled and licked it a couple of times. I was all lemon.

It has become the icon of my freedom.

Yellow. Sour. Sweet. Juicy. Available for squeezing. And enough.

Sacred Dreams

August 22, 2016September 16, 2017Leave a comment

artwork by sylvanfairy

To reclaim our natural power and this birthright of real magic, we must get naked and face ourselves.
Just because you are willing to stand naked in your truth
does not mean that others will suddenly ‘get you’
and play by the same rules of integrity
Stripping away the false images of hype and strategy
leaves you naked and open to those
who would scratch and claw away at your raw
beauty
But draw your sword and mark your line in the sand
sister
There are others who are standing strong
unwilling to compromise and sell their souls
and these are the ones
that your soul will meet and
be nourished by and
these are the ones whom you will feed
also
The feminine is meeting the masculine within
and the warrior-ess is making her way forward
She has the instincts of the mighty lioness and can smell
the small minded thinkers even when they have donned the
masks of trickery
She is keen to the games
people play
yet
chooses to drop them all.
She is on a bigger mission.

~ Flora Aube

Lemon

August 17, 2016September 16, 2017Leave a comment

Her apron strings flailed behind her, like a kite tail, the first time she left.

A butter yellow moth whispered in her wake.

It was a quick escape.

Tears crisscrossed her flat cheek, creating little glistening paths of fear and possibility. A silent scream clawing at the back of her throat as she peddled unfamiliarly ahead.

She wanted to change her life.

She had to change her life.

That’s why she bought the bike.

A metaphor of leaving. A symbolic gift to herself, to object to the reality of the King’s ownership of everything. Of his all ready having everything, and taking everything, and calling everything his own even if it was not. His own glorious ‘Titanium 5000′, was so light he could “lift it with one finger.” He had built it himself right there in front of her after she had mentioned wanting a bike of her own, and after he had mentioned they didn’t have enough money. To buy a bike. For her. Of course it was cheaper if he built it himself, and so he did. For himself.

It was about a year later that she crawled out of her skin and bought a bike. And she named it.

He had always wanted her to exercise!

The bike purchase was her first magical glimpse of a completely new ride.

She was going to exercise all right. She was going to exercise all over the fucking place.