Silly Girl

Where did I come up with the crazy idea that love included things like affection, connection and a general feeling of being a part of a team? Why did I think that being in love meant having the feeling that two people were truly joined as one? It feels like the only time that I’ve ever felt that way, it has fallen apart or been a complete lie.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

A Sunday Quickie

I don’t like it when people continuously play the victim and I hope that I don’t come across as that type of person. I prefer being victorious over things. I was not a victim of a random act of violence. I  willingly entered into the blinding haze of love. Most of my pain is somewhat self-inflicted. That doesn’t mean that I don’t suffer or that my pain, or that anyone’s pain, should be discounted.

The healing process has been a combined effort of my faith, my friendships and my mind. I began attending yoga and am working on healing some physical pain through massage. I had no idea how much these visits would enlighten my mind. I’ll save those adventures for a more lengthy post though.

As my youngest son would say, “I’m off to go see the Baby J.” I adore the teachings of Christ and the life that he lived. Everyone needs to believe in something. It’s okay to be in different boats but we all need oars…….or twin two-hundred horse motors.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

Strippers Have a Story

I have my homework nest built and I’m ready to settle in for roughly six hours of homework. I knew that the Rogue Mare needed to pour some of her own grammatically incorrect, non-math related words out of her head to be able to proceed with the mind numbing world of “have to do” things.

I recently found myself in the midst of topless dancers. Yes mom, (she reads my blog), I was hanging around strippers. I’m sure that this does not even phase my mother though. If it does, she’d never show it. I would consider mom to be pretty conservative but she knows her daughter is always looking for a story. A person’s story, an animal’s story or her own story.

I’m not really sure how to label the girls that I met. It doesn’t matter to me though because, when I’m not at work, do folks refer to me as my occupation? No, they don’t. I’m just gonna call them “the girls” for the duration of this post. This paragraph caused me to think about how family members would say, “My son brought a stripper to Christmas dinner.” Would that same family member say, “My son brought a library assistant to Thanksgiving dinner?”

I spoke with girls who, for the most part, like their job, some who hated it but needed the money, and some who didn’t think there was anything wrong with what they did. I can identify with all of those feelings in regards to career choices and I’m sure most of you will concur.

Every face has a story. The girls were very open about who they were, if they had children, where they were from, whether they were going to college or merely trying to survive. Some are just trying to stay well enough to make it through the day. When I say well enough, I mean that they have found themselves to be addicted to drugs and they need this job to buy or trade the substance that keeps them functioning.

The girls were very kind. They were telling me how beautiful and sweet I was! No, they weren’t trying to get money from me. That was not the forum in which this meeting took place. They were just happy to talk to someone who was interested in who they were. That, gentlemen readers, is how you get a girl to like you.

The girls are people with beautiful bodies, stunning smiles and tortured souls. Many of us, especially artists, have tortured souls. You may or may not agree with the fashion in which they make their living but that is extraneous. Wait, I take that back, it is of greatest significance. Many career choices have the ability to derive a negative connotation. My first job was at a pizza joint. I seem to recall a pastor asking my parents if they were okay with my working at an establishment that sold alcohol. Really? He had the nerve to ask that while his daughter worked as a checkout girl for a local grocery store! I’m sure that she rang up her share of beer and wine on any given day. Funny thing is, the pizza place I worked at didn’t even serve alcohol.

I’m almost down to the conclusion. The core of my experience is that I respect the girls. We live in a money driven society. It is an animal that most of us have created. These girls pay sales tax and pay  into the economic system just as much, or more, than you and I. Sexuality sells.

“Judgements prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances.” ~ Wayne Dyer

Peace from the Rogue Mare

And the power has shifted…..

Power is a wonderful thing to have. Power: ability to do or act; capability of doing or accomplishing something. Control is good for some but others want nothing to do with it. Control:to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command.

I know that my readers do not need an English lesson but the topic of this post had me grasping for the proper word to employ. Power won. Ability, accomplishment, those two words infer nothing but positive energy and that is all I need at this point in my life.

If you have read my previous posts, then you are aware that I contacted my lost love. I didn’t know how I was going to feel in the days following that contact and that is the purpose for this post. I feel empowered. I feel like I am able to look at things through the panoramic lens (which is how we should always envision our life).

He hasn’t attempted to contact me which could mean one of two things. It could mean that he is on such a high horse that he really doesn’t have any feeling left for me whatsoever, but here’s what I think, I think he knows he could never get me back. He knows that I’m gone. He knows that I was a weak soul when he caught me and that I’m too far out of reach for him to be able to capture me. It is ever so easy to catch a bird with a broken wing, but try to capture a peregrine falcon that is swooping at two-hundred miles an hour! Yes, this mare has wings and she’s flying.

I have no regrets for my actions. People in pain are always looking for comfort. The love story now has its ending and it’s an ending that I created, not him. I took the power, I have the conn.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

In the beginning…..

When I first sat down to write I received a rush of insecurity when thinking about how folks might pick apart my misuse of commas, under-developed knowledge about religion or politics and any other area I may decide to blog about. How sweet it is to know that I chose to blog about being human. As humans we all have different ideas, levels of intelligence, levels of compassion and we understand God to be many different things. To be human is a walk of tolerance, war, suffering and don’t forget joy.

This blog is open to anyone’s enjoyment, criticism, release of anger or if you feel that I need to educated on a certain topic. The topic of who God is will be tricky though if your intent is to sway me. The price is firm on that one. These are my words and I will be more in tune with others by expressing myself this way.

Thanks to all of my fellow humans out there for walking with me through this life. May we enjoy one another’s differences and learn to play well with one another.

Peace from the Rogue Mare