July 7,2022 Forgiving Evil…#389

Forgiving evil. Within this past year, I have removed the toxic people from my life. It was not an easy thing to do. However, after years of forgiving their toxic ways over and over, it was beginning to affect my health. Then another evil entity came to visit, CANCER.

There are some evils that one cannot forgive; you must first love before you have the need to forgive. There are evils in our nation, our world that I cannot love; therefore, I have no reason to forgive. Some things are just too evil to forgive.

I love those that became toxic in my life dearly, and I have forgiven them. Was I perfect? No, but I was not filled with toxicity as they were. I had room in my soul to forgive and still love, even though they do not feel they have done anything wrong.

I wish the world could be like my fur baby Dixie. She is filled with so much love she believes that she belongs to everyone, and she shows them what love she has to offer. Most return her love. I believe Dixie sometimes keeps me alive, my prayers, and those who send me their prayers, thoughts, love and having a wonderful family.

During our lifetimes, we can give and take love; it will go on if you continue to fill all your empty places with passion, mindfulness, and kindness. EAJM 

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July 6, 2022…#388

My Stage 3 – Multi Myeloma continues to hold its own as I continue 22 days per month “Chemo.” As I have stated before, it is treatable but not curable. Mine will never be in remission. In life, we get these “burdens” that we must bear or lessons we must learn.

 I have been working on my biography, which has left me little time for anything else. I have had one family member request that she not be in my book. I do not have a problem with that! Everyone I would place in the book is gone; I can go into deeper depths about what my life was like from the beginning. It will mostly be about my life as a wife; the book’s beginning will cover my birth, childhood, and a few teen years. My poetry is based on this era, and I understand that much of it is “dark.” However, all my poetry books are based on hard times, trials and tribulations.

I must route around some distant family members who may have problems bringing them into my story. Yet, I have found that when we love others, we expect that they will love us back, I have cared deeply for many, and the feeling was not returned. These are those who will be eliminated.

Am I lovable may be a good question; I believe I am? I am not perfect; I have been stubborn and sometimes judgmental. I have worked on this flaw in me for many years; I am still climbing that mountain of “self” I hope the downside will be easier. So, back to the book.

Have a great July. EAJM

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The South was doomed…#191

Again, and again, again, again…I have to listen to how terrible the South was, is, and in these days of unrest being from the South I am labeled.  I do not know how to get people to understand that my southern ancestors were not a part of the atrocity of those long ago days.  I do have a southern accent (now in the Midwest) in some circles makes me guilty of what transpired centuries ago.  Slavery was wrong, however, my Native American ancestors were in some cases slaves too.

My father was forced to go to an Indian School; the white people looked down on him as a lesser human being.  He spent his entire life under the cloud of discrimination because his skin was not white.  I am not defending the North or the South; I am saying many judge me without the knowledge of who I am.  It appears that there are some who would have the South removed from everyone’s brains, a history “Lobotomy”. 

What I know to be the truth…

Yes, slavery was a part of the Civil War, but not the total reason.  In addition, slaves were in Eastern and Northern United States over 400 years ago. I am from Alabama and Joseph Wheeler Plantation is one of the oldest in Alabama, dating back to year only 1818. Joe Wheeler Plantation was only a few miles from where I was born; in almost a different world. Slavery was abolished in the northern states when doing so by “northern politicians” became popular and the abolitionists began attacking slavery, and of course, the southern “politicians” tried to justify the institution. 

After the War, the North ceased to think of slaves and freedmen as being serious. Many northern politicians felt that it was not necessary to start the War because the South was economicically doomed and would die a natural death within time.  The South did eventually die, without industrial means of surviving, all would eventually be lost. 

They were right, the romantic realm of the old south was soon to be gone.  Southern plantation owners had been living a dream, and eventually they were living like most southerners, poor farm hands, these people were never rich, again.  The South was finally broken. 

It was a devastating time for slaves who worked sixteen-to-eighteen-hour days, seven days a week. Sunstroke and all types of hard work killed many. The working conditions, little food and poor clothing, terrible housing, lack of freedom to move about, and susceptibility to being sold and family separated led many slaves, to become “wearisome property.”  Some tried to fight back, they were intelligent and had “leaders”.  They sabotage production, challenge overseers, fought back when provoked, ran away with hopes of being free; there was rebellion. Plantation owners were aware that the younger generation of slaves were not “natural-born” and behaved differently that the older generation. 

Slaves were required to submit to masters and respect all whites, could travel only if they had passes, they could be killed from knowing how to read or write, limited their travel activities, and they could not own or be in possession of firearms or liquor.  My question was always, if they were not human, then why were the plantation owners afraid for them to learn how to read and write? Slave patrols were a necessity for plantation owners.

The reality was that slavery often involved beating, killing, and raping, even murder, if ever, resulted in no legal prosecution of white overseers or the owners, let alone conviction or meaningful punishment.  Glorification of Southern women often took the form of harsh penalties for slaves who raped, tried to rape, or even ogled white women.  This continued in the South well into the 1950’s. In the early 1900’s they were hanged, later years if they made it to trail they were sent to the “electric chair”. Are Blacks upset and mad, hell yes they are, would we in all of our “whiteness” be mad, hell yes. There were in the South only two levels of “white”, the rich and the poor.

This brings us to this day in America.  Not all Southerners are bad, not all Law Enforcement are bad, and not all Protesters are bad.  True Southerners are not proud of their ancestors, and have paid for the actions of their southern ancestors for many generations; and I am afraid that they will continue to pay.  Honest Law Enforcement is not proud of the actions of a few, yet they are now paying for something they were not a part.  There are good, peaceful Protesters; it is our right to protest in a peaceful manner, just as we have the right to Freedom of Speech; not all Protesters loot and burn.  As Americans, we must learn the difference.

EAJM

Heart of Stone…#23

A heart of hate belonging to another whose eyes could cut into a soul like a swordsman’s steel.  The tiny figure ever so small always stiff and frozen.  The elders face burning with passionate hatred and dislike caused trembling and terror.  A Heart of stone, no tears would ever fall from those eyes that could bring harm with only a glance.  A quietness on the outside, a certain charm; the soul metaphorically carried arrows and sling that could pierce and bruise.  The invisible hands of hate tore apart a child’s heart and it would forever lay slit open.  After decades of trying to be loved, the tiny figure grew into an adult, one day buried the Heart of Stone, and found themselves growing old; old body, old memories.  The thought of the another who had been gone for years still put fear into the old soul that never forgets the Heart of Hate.     

Love and Peace

Elizabeth

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Author’s note:  I have been thinking of the many words or phrases that I have used throughout my life when thinking of a heart that knew nothing but hate.  It is not possible to know at what age a child can begin to think of the personality of their parents or their own.  Impersonal, uninvolved, closed, shutdown.

A parent that is detached, distant, characterizes a schizoid personality disorder, which–at their extreme–cold people can sometimes be); a parent that is self-absorbed, withdrawn, emotionally unavailable, unfeeling, affectionless; unsmiling–straight-faced (or stone-faced/ stone heart), cold-hearted, no empathy or compassion, angry, hostile.  This was my mother!

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The artwork by the Author is acrylics on canvas. First, Native American medicine man, middle, Native American mother and child, third right Native American family Acrylics.

Debris…#14

Many know all too well that within the soul emotions flourish, both fear and truths stored out of sight behind invisible doors, within the mind.  Filtering the mind is the only way; it may stop the possibility of getting lost in the fog of yesterday.  Clear the mind and soul of unneeded clutter, congestion and conflict; free it.  Keeping such thoughts will create an existence into which one will be doomed.  Knowing self-value is the first step for the soul to hear freedoms call; living in the “moment” is the only way to tear down internal prison walls.

How often have you rushed out the door and into your day without even thinking about how you would like things to go? Before you know it, something or someone has rubbed you the wrong way, and you have reacted automatically with frustration and impatience.  On waking, sit on your bed or a chair relax. Take three long, deep, nourishing breaths—breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then let your breath settle into its own rhythm, as you simply follow it in and out, noticing the rise and fall of your chest and belly as you breathe.  Ask yourself, “What is my intention for today?”

Love and Peace

Elizabeth

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Dementia…#3

I recently spoke to an acquaintance who told of her husband living in a nursing home, he was unhappy and so was she. Being ten years his junior placed such a burden on her shoulders.

What can one say about growing old? The loss of shape, hiding beneath many layers of clothing, sparkle gone from one’s eyes as the eyes become smaller in their sockets. One is no longer beautiful in the eyes of others; however, this is not my belief. The function of one’s body grows weaker, sitting in that doomed place with little human contact. The sunset-glow in the beginning of each day is gone. Dreams escape the demented mind, as does the ordinariness of each day.

There is certain knowledge within this fog in the mind of the aged; at times, they remember of those long ago youthful days. Visions may flitter across the closed mind like an open window. Nonetheless, the prison door of the mind never opens; it is walled-in unknown to most what thoughts lay buried deep within. It is the last stage of life, frozen within and quite, a phantom of themselves, a hollow ghost.

No longer, a figure of delight, no longer surrounded by the sweet smell of one’s self. Like the snow-covered winter landscape, life is stilled, a shadow of one’s self. Life from the womb begins a painful story, a stormy world like summer winds and rain. Beauty spent and done, despite Hells rage now silenced by the passing of time. With the eyes looking past what lays ahead, bondage no longer a threat as the mind realizes it will only end in death. Whom can we blame? No one!  Do the demented know the world outside the closed mind?

Mindfulness provides a simple but powerful route for getting our selves unstuck, back into touch with our own wisdom and vitality. It is a way to take charge of the direction and quality of our own lives, including our relationships within the family, and to the larger world and beyond, and most fundamentally, our relationships with our selves as a person. Begin now, to become aware of what lies in the future our future. The key lies in the works of Emerson and Thoreau, Whitman and Native American wisdom. Read and become aware of what your future might be, the words of these great people will pave the way to your tomorrows.

Do not fall prey to the thoughts of those who would harm you. Hold on to your opinions, expectations and the many possibilities that will open to you as you age. Mindfulness is simply an art of conscious living. Be yourself, keep in touch with your deepest feelings, and let greatness flow from you. This will go a long way to keeping you young.

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Love and Peace

Elizabeth

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Collection of personal artwork in acrylics and watercolor
Personal journey of Charlotte Jean Murphree, the hardship of having multitude of mental and physical handicaps. Charlotte is the daughter of the author.
Personal image journey of Mason Murphree, a Teddy Bear.
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The Journey – Day 21, 2019…#2

We are day 52 into the New Year, while I was in the hospital, I tried to recall the past and what have I done, what have I accomplished during these eighty decades.  My childhood, I more often than not raised myself, along with  those wonderful women my Great-grandmother whom I called  “Ma” a solid rock of full-blooded Native American ancestry and “Aunt Francis” a black woman of wisdom. I raised five children alone whom have all achieved their life’s dreams to a certain point.  Along the way, I worked in the public sector for forty years. 

During retirement, I begin searching for who I was, and what I wanted out of the second half of my life; yes, that was 15 years ago.  I returned to painting and writing.  I have tried to reinvent myself during these past 15 years and I am still working on myself as I continue to travel down a mysterious path on my journey into yesterday and tomorrow.  What have I learned?

I believe that the journey we humans lead is down one of three paths.  The first path leads to success, these are the people that have material riches and yes, sorrow.  Then there is the second path, one that leads to happiness and sorrow, these people live a good life.  They are capable of handling life.  The third path is one of total destruction.  The important question is how you are going to live your life, which path does you taken.

When you find yourself at the crossroads of the here and now, will you put in the effort to be free, will you walk through the doors of reality, choosing the path wisely.  I believe in meditation, it is simply about being yourself, your life is always unfolding in front of you, seek the answer to truth.  If you are not careful the truth will be ignored, be fallow and unacknowledged.

Life is at times like a slippery slope, the grave will hold all of those years your life-unexamined half-truths, fear, you did not achieve that which was given to you on the path of your life, and you ignored the wealth, happiness and greatness.  If you wake up and breakout your life it may unfold on a path of success.  Get off that slippery slope and follow your path to importance.  No one can do this job but you.    At the end of a long life, dedicated mindfulness will be acknowledged and you will be remembered as an individual of understanding and wisdom.

Love and Peace

Elizabeth

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