Category Archives: discovery

Why I run! A Poem

I run to release,

I run to reflect,

I run to breathe

I run to perfect

With every stride my life unravels

With every breath another path travelled

I lift my gaze, my sight glazes, the sunlight hits my eyes

I pick up pace, my heart pumps harder, problems simply slide.

Away to the wind, away with the beat, away with the thrum of the race

Pain is rising, heat is building, sweat pours from my brow, mind loosens, no thought is given space.

I flow

I pound

I slow

I float back to the ground

STOP, BREATH, SWEAT, ACHE, BEAT , HEAT, ITS DONE!

“Because, I’m Way Less Sad!”

I heard this song for the first time the other day by AJR. See, this bitch is totally down with the kids. Although my 11 year old did tell me that my “tennis ball” curved peak baseball cap needs to be straight. I am not allowed to wear it backwards, as I am ancient, and calling someone a “crazy cat” is just embarrassing!!!! Well it was good enough for Hendrix!

But I side track. The point is I heard this song and I fell back into the no mans land that was my early 20s. I was alone in London, in a high fought after job (I was a Denim / Menswear Fashion buyer; well assistant), poorly paid, and renting with strangers, who were usually crazy, most certainly not “friends”. But Martin, if you are are reading this, or James or Helen, you were good friends, and I love you all for protecting me during some of this destructive time.

As the song states, “No I ain’t happy yet? But, I’m way less sad.”

That was my life. I bounced from work, to pub, to party, to a strangers bed on occasion. I drank too much, I fell over often, as my slightly starved body was not a great consumer of alcohol. I occasionally dabbled in narcotics, to keep up with the big kids. Inside I was so so empty, solitary and sad. The social friends, the parties, the drugs, the alcohol as the song goes did not make happy now, but they did make me “way less sad.” It felt like I was drifting unconsciously through a sea of noise. Cruising through London, searching with a dim light. Searching for some connection, for my soul to be lit and to let it flourish. The dirty city was bright, pulsating and alive, I fed off its energy for years and then I fizzled out. My job was going nowhere, no man wanting anything past my outward appearance, once they got my lanky legs wrapped around them and the morning sun rose, they disappeared. Or if they found out my inside was a cavern of honest emotion, compared to the superficial shell of my 23 year old body, they floated on by.

I continued, I lived, I had some awesome fun in those hedonistic nights of dancing, loud music, dark bars and city sunrises. Yes for brief moments I felt like I was on fire, my brain and body glowed from the energy of the throng. “I was way less sad” …….. “And I’m not dead yet, so I guess I’ll be alright”! Then daylight, the hangover, the loss, the sickly London morning, shone a grey tinge on my dingy room. As I lay staring at the ceiling, hollow, aching and distraught.

The song makes me cry, it brings back the ache of a lost child in a crowded city. It reminds me of my stuck youth languishing, caught on its hedonistic rollercoaster.

Then one night a boy walked into a pub. I was caught in its clutches, swallowed by a sea of people. He walked in, with his floppy hair, big grin, and kind heart, he scooped up my soul and blew life back in. “Joy” had finally arrived.

“Yes, I feel happy now.”

Open and Unashamed.

As always, I will start with a caveat.

I write this piece not to generate a circle of shock, sympathy, or embarrassment. I write this to be honest. To allow people to lift their heads and look away from the shame of difficult moments in time. To know that experiences no matter how terrible, hard, or heartbreaking should not be hidden. Do not conceal emotion because it might make the other person uncomfortable. Or hide beneath its cloak of darkness, as this will only shield your light, and dull your emotions.

Experiences are factual, they happened, and it is fucking OK to share what hurt, as much as what made you smile. Life does not define you, it created you, experiences educate you on how to live, about good people and bad people.  It teaches you that you are strong, and from each uncomfortable act, a flicker of kindness can be ignited. Allowing you to reach out from under the suffocating blanket of mortification.

Most of you know my story. I have always been extremely open, probably to the chagrin of many. But it is my survival tactic, once I have voiced it, it can be looked upon, analyzed and allowed to float away. I mean, It is not like I walk up on a first meeting and say…  “Hey, I am an anorexic, I have been depressed, self-harmed blah blah blah”. NO! Shit the only person I did that with was with Kieron, as I thought he was way too nice for me and could not believe he genuinely liked me. I thought I could scare him away. Instead, he told me he loved me.

Here is my list in black and white. Know I am not ashamed, yes these things can be hard, but I also know that many people have gone through the same and hold on too tightly to a guilt that is not theirs. I know many who have been through excruciating experiences and they have survived. Like all of us with baggage, they continue to live and love their lives as best they can. Especially on the days life allows that freedom from pain.

In Chronological Order: –

~At age 6 I was abused by a man in my parents’ circle – the details are not needed, my parents now know, and are heartbroken. It is no ones fault except his. It was a long time ago, and it was from that moment life started to hit me hard. It created so much pain that I have diligently had to work through. I acknowledged it in my 40s with the help of a Psychologist, and then a heavy wave of relief flooded through because everything now made sense. I am not ashamed, I was angry for long time and I cried a lot, but this was not my fault.

~Therefore, at age 9 I developed a severe eating disorder. This is why I purposely hurt my body, this is why men frightened me, this is why I was in and out of hospital, this is why I was 2 weeks from death at age 10 (malnutrition) this is why I was told to stop running, and this is why I do not like my body. But I am not ashamed, I know exactly what I am.

~I had a “Me Too” moment. As a female I know most of us have.  I am not ashamed.

~I do not like my body. I am like a spider, I have no breasts. I have learnt to understand and appreciate my body. It does not mean I think it is pretty.

~I was told when I was age 12, I could not have children. But with time, hard work (on myself) to get to a good weight, at age 30 I had my first period; yes, my first. I went on to have 3 beautiful boys. My body is now a machine to me, but it is amazing, if defied the odds, my hatred, and gave birth to life. I am not ashamed.

I lost a baby. This broke my heart and it still hurts today. It was extremely early in my pregnancy, but it hurt, it hurt so much, I felt like my body had let that sweet baby down. I am not ashamed; we do not talk about this ENOUGH as women!

I developed crippling anxiety at age 34, I had panic attacks often and they were not rational. Each day I woke up thinking I would die from a heart attack, or a meteor would wipe out the world, we would die on a plane, in a car, I struggled to do anything. The boys have seen me collapse in a ball crying, Kieron has had to listen and try to understand why I rushed myself to ER when I thought I was dying. This is where my running has helped, my anxiety improved with my discovery of abuse, this is not my fault. Medication and hard, fucking hard exercise have been a life changer. I still suffer today and that is OK.

I have been taking Prozac since I was 10 and I have seen multiple Psychologists. – I am not ashamed

I AM NOT ASHAMED, and I will NOT apologize for writing this.

This is me. I feel that people who go through this and more have something to give back. They have a light you must see, they have a light to share, they understand people, they are there to hug you hard when you hurt, to listen to you when you are sad. Because they know. They are not weird, broken, or damaged goods. It is those cracks that let you SEE THEM, to see their heart. They can help you; they can love you “right” if you let them, do not turn your back or hide, they will never judge you.

We need to talk about all these topics and more, so much more than this tiny list. People are out there being hurt, discarded, and forgotten every second of every day. Open you heart, your arms and experience and tell them – “Please do not be ashamed, I understand, and I am here for you”.

SMILE

That beautiful face creased with a grin. Oh how I miss thee oh bountiful smile (yes I love Shakespeare). Shrouded by cotton, the mask that hides a million beams. I yearn for the eye cease paired with a lip lift, a teeth glint and merriment in the pupils. I long to see a whole face with all its nooks and crannies. Cheeks I can see turn into apples with mirth. A cheek, a brow I can caress softly, if it is allowed. Those lips I could kiss, if I would choose and it welcomed. Oh if they were not so abruptly hidden from my view. The proud chin and noble nose swaddled from a worlds welcoming horizon.

The smile is what I yearn to see,

Encouraging heart ache and angst to flee.

A crinkle of nose, a crease of lip,

Can make my cold heart flip.

The lightness of the face,

When the teeth are given space .

To grin at you with such cheer,

Oh that sweet smile, how I miss you dear.

Love Kelly

The Kids are Alright!

Yes, that is a quote from “The Who”

It has been a long, yet weirdly short eight months.

Eight months ago, in a land far, far away (come on, we all love a good fairytale! No?). The Joy family ventures off merrily, on their much anticipated Spring break jaunt. Skiing. Snowmass, Colorado, here we come!

Then BOOM Coronavirus hits, as our esteemed President likes to call it “The flu from Chi – Na” (I still crack up when I hear him say this word!). We finish our week skiing – Snowmass shuts down. We spend a weekend in Boulder, restaurants shut down, we have to queue to get into Wholefoods, but then I feel like that store does love to make you feel slightly unworthy of shopping there. Toilet roll – SOLD OUT, Sanitizer – SOLD OUT, any semblance of liquid soap – bloody SOLD OUT. Finally the axe fell, schools closed their doors, and we were banished to our basements. Sitting in the gloom, bathed in the deathly glow of a subpar laptop and harangued by a wealth of teachers. Who really had no fucking idea what they were doing (no criticism intended) just stating facts.

AND there we all were festering. One overwhelmed, anxiety driven mother; I seriously thought we were all going to perish on a daily basis. A “at home” working husband who is always on an important call and then add three small dragons (boys) lost in the ether, breathing fire at us all. EEEKKK

Spring Break was looooonnggg.


Time marched on and we have had to all learn to be together and let me tell you that this is by no means easy. Ummm I like my own space, I like to not be constantly watched, asked for 30 million snacks, water, toilet roll etc etc. I do not want to be responsible for trying to keep the kids online and on top of that actually learning. All I wanted to do, was to let them swim and watch old movies, if only if it was to experience a little peace.

We had screaming matches and fist fights (kids). Blood was spilled, furniture broken, glasses smashed and usually over the minor fact that someone had tapped their fingers a little too long. We have learnt to be tolerant of each other’s annoying habits – OR NOT, mainly NOT. I spent my days trying to keep them quiet, while daddy held down a job. Then, if that was not hard enough, we decided to just pick up and move all of us from Florida to Colorado. That was clearly not easy or stress free – online schooling came in handy then.

I had to manage tiny people melt downs, from missing friends, hating the “Corona”, wanting to be at school, we have copious amounts of anger and laughter. I have been told daily that I am hated, just for enforcing a rule, which ultimately will make us all better people, or I may have just asked for a small person to help mama and empty the dishwasher. This enforced eight months in each other’s pockets has opened my eyes up to the fact, that the kids truly think I am the dumbest person in the room, that I know nothing and I have been nowhere. When in fact, beneath this dippy looking exterior of mine I am the ONLY person in the room (remember my kids are all boys of ages 11, 8 and 5) who has a upper class degree in Sports Science, was in the academic top 10% of kids at high school and travelled the world in her 20’s. But still to these three boys I know nothing. Deep breath Kelly, calm and collected… Be nice, be nice I tell you woman.

The months drag on/fly by and the kids are still home, still no school. My house looks like an elephant has stampeded through, I have mountains of washing tall enough to rival Mount Washington, I have given up on homemade food, my hair looks like a birds nest and I have aged at least 10 years. Seriously, no judgement please, or at least silently in your head.

Tick, tock, tick, tock ……. Another month trips by, summer in COVID passes, vacations are cancelled, family is missed. Yet, new adventures and friends are made.

Then on one glorious sunny Colorado day, announcements are made – THE KIDS CAN GO BACK TO SCHOOL. My heart lifts, the kids scream for joy and they are all rapidly booked for a haircut, as I am currently in possession of three very shaggy bears.

Our freedom is returning, we can all start to stretch our wings and break free from our family nucleus. As much as I have been extremely worried about the children, we have all learnt so much, yes even dumb mummy and we all know how stupid she is. 🙂 We have learnt to be –

Tolerant of each other.

To care for each other always.

That we all love to watch 1000 repeats of “Jessie” and the “Simpsons”!

That you can truly never have enough ice cream.

That the impact of an action has a profound effect on the group, good or bad.

That we genuinely love each other.

On that note my eldest (who is in school two days a week) has just come out to inform me, that there has been 340 days of Coronavirus thus far.

So, after eight months at home together we are relishing our time apart. You see, my friends do not think I am an idiot (I hope not). Everyday I am living, loving and relishing, as we all know this could all change tomorrow. With another lock down, another spike, and we are thrown back together. These eight months have also taught me that my kids are alright, I am alright. That with all that can be taken away, we can still love each other, hug, be silly, dance wildly and learn to be silent, together.

I have to admit there had been a high chance of serious injury and maiming with my crazy kids all together, but they are definitely ALRIGHT!

Love hard, live with ferocity, care for others, laugh a lot, adventure with intention, be silly, hug when you can and always, always be kind.

And you will be just fine.

Love dumb mummy. ( I think that upset me you know 🙂 )

The Run

6am, a Fall morning, deep breath in, blown out and a mist obscures my eyes. Headphones rammed in, house music selected on my old iPod – click, clip and the club sounds of 1995 flood my ears. Swig of water and bottle thrown into the car, beep beep, car is locked. Hat pulled down, heart rate monitor adjusted around my chest; headlamp switched on, and its sickly light seeps across the gloom of a creeping dawn. Watch clicked on, it lights up, Select – “RUN”, click.

The darkness envelopes me and I strike off into the black. Leg strides out, foot hits the ground, crunch. Breath flows in, breath hisses out, crunch, arm pendulums back from my shoulder, it drives forward again, foot crunch. The icy breeze bites my skin, crunch. I glide through the ink, tinges of orange crinkle around its edge, illuminating the horizon, as the sun starts its climb.

My pace quickens, my breath in synch, the first tendrils of sweat bead across my brow and back. Feet snap out and back, thigh muscles tense and relax in relay with my calves, they are in motion and free. Crunch, I hit the trail, crackle I hit the leaves. Surging deeper into the morning light, I can now see the trees, as they come into focus and glow gold, the sun seeping through their branches. Miles tick by, 1, 2, 3, 4 …… The rhythm is soothing, seducing my frenetic mind, it falls silent. All I hear is my breath coming thick and fast, in time to the building music in my ears. I feel calm, connected and at one for a fleeting moment with my consciousness, my body and nature. It feels easy and natural and exactly where I should be. ALWAYS. The adrenaline is hitting my system and I am rising up out of my body and I float above the effort, I drive even harder, miles 5,6,7,8, at times I want to hurt, I want to blast every ounce of energy and give it to my body and let it flood around me, seeping into the earth, feeding the trees and plants and absorbed by the light, ready to cycle back around when I need it most. Water starts to run down my back, my chest, my head, collecting in the creases of my joints, pooling until it flies to the floor from exertion, my shirt is stuck to me, crushing me, as I force the last filaments of energy out. Miles 9, 10, 11 I am almost running “all out”, I check back that last 10%, stride, thump, crunch, swing, breath, drip, 1995 boom boom boom, My heart is racing, my shoulders start to ache, the pain in my legs heats up. Mile 12, time to put it all out, every fiber screams, the warmth is almost unbearable, the fog descends, a metallic taste rises in my mouth, my blood rushes in my ears, suffocating the crescendo of the happy hardcore sounds competing for my attention. Tick tick tick the meters on my watch count down, 800m to go, 400m to go 200m. Kelly run, run hard, sprint if you can, until NOTHINGNESS, click, 12 miles. STOP.

I slump, hands pressing hard on my knees I am breathing with such force, it is painful. The morning has risen to warm my already steaming back, licking away the sweat as it drives from my skin through my shirt and tumbles to the floor, drip drip drip. My heart starts to slow and the metallic taste in my mouth subsides, my eyes clear, and I whisper “fuck” under my breath. The noise in my muscles dies away and I stand up straight. The night has faded and a new day has begun. Other runners have emerged from their nightly hibernation and are tripping past me in groups of 2s and 3s, chatting merrily to the awakening birds.

Click – my headlamp is off, click 1995 disappears, click I open the car door. My day begins.

Truth of a child.

I have no grand notion of making this piece long and full of empty, laborious words. It does not need flowery sentences or elongated wordage. It is the “truth” in its blatant and short honesty.

For most of my life I have had a weight in my chest, it is the burden of an unknown knowledge, the heaviness of the past, that when ignored, it drowned me, suffocating the life from my lungs, stripping the flesh from my bones trying to scrape out all that my body knew. Then one day 18 months ago I walked in to ANOTHER shrinks office, looking for an answer to something I knew the answer to . My question was, do I too have high functioning autism, like my son, am I the cause of his brain makeup? Is it my fault? What I was truly looking for, was a person who would not look to fix my symptoms of mental distress, but to look deeply in to the WHY I have them.

Instead I came out with the truth. The truth I had always felt. It was standing ominously in the fore, glaringly bright in all its glorified awfulness, I was no longer able to hide. The crevasse was open and it was vomiting over everything I thought to be true.

I have struggled with the, “should I share, should I hide it” dilemma. But that is what I have being doing all my life and it ate me up. It literally festered in my cerebral cortex and stopped my ability to eat, it created a self loathing of my body so harsh, I denied it food and wanted to destroy the memories it secretly held. It gave me nightmares, that I would wake up from screaming in fear and not knowing why. I would jump if someone touched me, I developed anxieties and fears never known before and I did not know why. I was scrabbling for control. I was labelled mentally unstable, the kid with mental issues, the weirdo, skinny kid, the loner. My heart and soul shrouded by the thin shell of an emaciated child, so delicate she could shatter at any moment and that is exactly what I wanted to do. Shatter all over the floor and be swept away. But did I? No, I was resilient. I was, unbeknownst to me, fighting and I was fighting hard to stand back up and be Kelly.

I will not write down the raw images in my head, that always sit on the periphery, to creep in and shock when I am feeling vulnerable. You the reader do not need to know details. You just need to know the truth and that it is ok to share. Because, to share is to reveal, to bring the dark into the light and expose it. To reveal all its ugly. We can unite, love and move up and away from what holds us captive. Lifting up, supporting, cradling, caring for each other.

I am crying

I feel sick

I am acknowledging

When I was about 6 years old, a dark, odious man, an adult I knew, took away something from me that was not his. A room with no light, unable to breathe, my head in a flowery counterpane. Crushing me, suffocating me and then darkness,. The rest became a shadow, a reaction of my skin.

All that was left were nightmares. I did not know where they had come from, my brain shut down and I retreated inward. That was how I was to stay, until I walked into that sunny office age 41 looking for something else.

The thing is, when I finally let that door open and everything wash out, I could see, I could see me at 6, I could feel met at 6. The thick sludge of disgust oozing out on to the floor, I could look at it, I could hate him, I could stop hating myself. You know what the hardest thing has been all my life? It has been the not knowing WHY I am the way I am. Why I am unemotional and unfeeling to any intimacy. I am not a nut job, or weird. I was created, created by someone who took away my control and my right to say NO.

After the days of aftermath pain, crying and anger had washed away, all that was left was relief, relief it was not my fault. Everyone looked at me when I was a child as if I were broken. Yes I was broken, but that was when I was enduring something I had hidden, Now it was there, in all its terrible reality, stretching its arms towards me, as I looked at it, acknowledged it and at age 41 I finally walked away.

The weight was gone. That guilt did not belong to me.

When I was 6, I was sexually assaulted, there I have said it through tears and relief that I have given it to the air. I have voiced its pain and am now old enough to say that I am ok and I am worthy and good and you can love me and I deserve it.

When he took me away in that dark room, he inadvertently gave me a strength, a resilience to push through hurt and pain. It became a part of life, I chased it, I stopped eating, I would punch my stomach, scratch me arms, I developed an anxiety that locked me in a fog of fear. I drank too much and would fall over, I dabbled with drugs. I was hiding and I was destructive. I met Kieron and he saved me, he taught me that I could be loved, that he loved me for all that I was, and he waited for me. I discovered running, I could release, I could chase the pain and create it, by running far, fast and long. The feeling of exhaustion fed my need to hurt in a healthier way. The world became less heavy, the sun shone again.

I have written this, as it is time, time to let people know, to allow people in, allow them to share their story and know I will not judge them, but love them ever more.

I used to recite this poems verse in my head when I was sad as a child. If I could not lie in the grass with the breeze in my hair, smelling the earthiness of the ground and watching clouds zip across the sky, I would recite Wordsworth to calm me.

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud – William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

I leave you with this – please don’t feel sorry for me ever, I do not need it, I am well and happy. Please just look to care for others. Please protect and fight for the quiet, lonely wanderers because we really need you to see us.

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”
― William Wordsworth

Love Kelly

HAPPY

What does it mean to be happy? What does it feel like? What is the physiological response to feeling happy? So many questions. In the dictionary it means :-

Definition of happiness

a: a state of well-being and contentment : JOY

b: a pleasurable or satisfying experience.

For example it brings me great Joy that Joy is actually my surname (last name)

Even the word H A P P Y makes me smile. Despite that, I do have a huge issue with happiness, and it is not with the warm, fuzzy, nurtured state we experience. But that society seems to expect that we should be ‘happy’ ALL the DAMN TIME. To say otherwise is a social hand grenade, that will surely make you an outsider.

For example, lets say a friend comes up and says :-

“Hey, how are you? or “Are you happy?” They are probably just feigning interest in your well being, which ultimately makes them feel good, or they are using it as an opener to a conversation. Let me caveat now, that I do know that this will not always be the case. In short the acquaintance will expect you to say “yes” or “I’m good” but what if you go “well, no actually I am having a really bad day”, or “I feel awful and sad and I cannot stop crying. ” Now, that throws a spanner in the works and the friend, colleague, acquaintance, family member have to actually show up and either care for you or cringe in the shadows wishing that the rawness of your reality will disappear.

Why is it assumed that we have to be happy and content all the time? We cannot truly enjoy, accept and relish in happiness if we have not felt the sadness, the discontentment of life, real life at times. Have we not all experienced heart break, loss, hate, discontent, a harsh word, mental abuse, physical abuse? Yes? No? These things do not evoke the feeling of happiness or a warm fuzzy feeling, it will not envelope your body and fold you in the arms of bliss. No – It hurts, it makes you weep, it can make you angry, your heart may ache in sorrow and may never fully heal. It is from these moments of night that a light can break through, it enables a person to see the beauty in the ugly and rise above the discord, a goodness can filter in. The touch of a lovers hand, a letter from a friend, a child’s cheek against your own, the sun on your face, a cool breeze in your hair, the view from a mountain top, a promotion, a call from a family member, diving into a pool, running through a field of grass. And it is from those sweet, miniature moments that happiness blooms spreading internally and externally, a pure, honest, golden haze of joy.

The world is built on equilibrium, each and every feeling, action and thought has an equal and opposite. Harmony is built on opposites, without experiencing one we cannot embrace or understand the other.

To feel happiness is the ability to also feel and appreciate sadness. To love someone gives us the ability to experience loss. To live life, makes us appreciate how it will be to experience death. In my heart of course I want to feel happy, I want you to feel bliss. Yet, there is something so honest, liberating and open about feeling, accepting and appreciating what it is, to be sad. I appreciate it when someone is open and expresses their pain, it is brave and strong and is truly living life to its fullest. I learnt from a very young age that to live my life with emotion was freeing, to allow people to see it, was honest, and I was not lying about who I am. It also gives me the super power to be truly and unashamedly feel HAPPY.

So the next time you ask someone “How are you? or Are you happy?”, please be open to the fact they may not be and really need to share. Embrace their pain, see their pain and allow them to feel and help to put them back on the path towards JOY.

Love Kelly

Dreaming to the Edge.

I was in an expansive mood as my feet hit the path and I started my run this morning. Where I run, it is very beautiful and the path stretches out, twisting, undulating into the canyon with its thicket of trees and cascade of rocks. At this precise moment the sun was grazing the horizon, a red wash was tinting the clouds and illuminating the path.

The path, it was the path. Follow the path.

I had dreams as a child of going to the moon, becoming a brain surgeon, running in the Olympics and being an explorer. As a young adult, I was a travel writer, a famous fashion model an international fabric buyer. I dreamed big, I speculated and formulated with abandon, there was no reason why not and there were absolutely no boundaries. Today, I am still a whimsical, go big or go home fantasizer. I am a fairy dreamer, a dance in the moonlight dreamer, a stand on a mountain with my arms spread wide romantic. I truly daydream hard on a daily basis, it is my favorite thing to do.

But, that path. Follow the path.

As a child my path was long, narrow and winding. As a young adult, I became lost on my path and decided to wander, choosing to experience and feel new things. As a semi grown up it gained many mountains to climb. Now, as I languish in middle age, my path has suddenly become short. Over the next horizon I can sense the end is there and in a few more years I will see the very place, where my essence, dreams and wishes will cascade off. Tumbling into the energy filled ether of nothingness. Crashing into a land I cannot quite see, but can always feel its presence.

My dreams loom ominously and they now have less time to become real. I know many of my “what I believe I am here for” beliefs or my “what I came to accomplish” ideas, will fizzle away. Lost to the air, when in the not so distance future I will close my eyes and they will stay sealed together, under a star filled sky, never to reopen. It was in a moment, mid stride, sighed out with each exhaled breath, that I knew I must keep striving for the magic, reaching for those carbon filled sparkles in the night sky. Because, just like my dreams those stars even though now dead in their universe, still light mine. My dreams will not die, they will shine to the next small child, who reaches up, curls their small fingers around my desires of the phantasmagorical and believes that dreams can come true.

Go little one, go and do great things. Follow your path and become the star light you were created to be. Now shine and shine brighter than I.

Love K. K Dreamer Joy

Why must we attack?

I would like to point out that I do not start this post from a place of anger or righteousness. Nor from an assumed higher stand point on race, religion, politics or whatever else people seem to beat each other up over, demean, belittle or try to persuade to change, using noise, anger and hate.

BASICALLY, THERE IS WAY TOO MUCH SHOUTING, not enough action and a bucket of ANGER. Everyone seems so volatile and they are turning on friends, groups, tribes, peoples feelings and thoughts. It seems at a time when we need to love harder than ever and join together, the lines are drawn, the boundaries are built and are getting taller by the day.

As, you may or may not know I am a bit of a social media voyeur, I mean I LOVE social media. I occasionally try to have an online opinion / voice, usually resulting in me getting severely burnt, crushed and then I vow never to do that again. Plus, I truly do not want to add any more fuel to the rabid fire of discord that is sweeping around us.

I scroll through Facebook over breakfast, and watch as individuals are publicly attacking each other on race views, LGBTQ opinions and thoughts, whether you love or hate Trump, whether you are red or blue, whether you are religious, not religious, believe in Coronavirus or think its a hoax. If I were to list my credentials that would potentially cause a online put down or hate fest, I would be :-

Race views – “black Lives matter”, yes I know all lives do matter, but as a white person I have never had to fight hard to be secure in the knowledge that my life matters. People of color do. Yes all lives are precious but we need to fight the point that black lives matter, to even begin to get their lives to the level of an “all lives matter” discussion. Does that make sense? Because, as a white person I know my life matters, and that has never been suppressed or disputed. Like EVER. I mean, can you imagine what it must feel like to not feel equal, just because of the amount of melanin your skin contains.

LGBTQ views – Just be you and be happy and if that means loving a boy, a girl, boys and girls. loving no one, changing sex, being fluid, being asexual. JUST BE YOU that is all. Everyone, should have the freedom to be what the fuck they want to be, no judgement. Period! I really do not understand why anyone would have a problem with it?

Politics – I cannot vote, and if I did, it probably would not be for Trump. Yet the economy before Coronavirus really has never been better. I have lots of Republican friends and lots of Democrat friends and to be honest it is OK to have an opinion and I will not try to change it by shouting. I am also not educated enough in that realm to really have a valid opinion or stand point. Yet, I agree, take the POTUS’s volatile Twitter account away.

Religion – Not religious, agnostic yes. Please do not try to change me, and I will not change you. But know this, I truly understand why you have a faith, that sense of belonging and security in thought, must be so grounding.

I believe in science, so I believe in Coronavirus and I will social distance, wear a mask and wash my hands.

OK if you need to release the boiling fire inside you, go-ahead you can use me to release it. I will listen and then walk away. As, I have always told my children, if you shout at people, no one will listen and or hit you. Yet, adults are still screaming at each other. WE NEED TO LISTEN, care for and then listen again to each other. We do not have to agree, but we need to respect views, listen some more and talk rationally.

WHY SO MUCH HATE? Is it from fear? I feel like the underlying commonality is terror, living in the unknown. We have a pandemic that does not abate (wear masks people). We have race movement that is generating change, giving voice and bringing us all up to the line to move forward as a whole, single body of people. Yet there is back lash, riots, bad elements that whip around all the greatness that is achieved, minimizing it and creating a discord, disharmony and chaos. People retreat and fall silent for fear of being attacked, verbally or physically and once again change is halted. We crawl back into our electronic holes of safety, desensitized to the life around us. Not accepting the movement that wants to propel us forward into the light, instead we allow ourselves to shiver in the dark, remaining terrified and angry. We surely cannot continue like this. SO please .

LISTEN to your neighbor, you do not have to agree.

LOVE your neighbor, even when they are ass holes.

LIKE your neighbor, see above

LIVE through kindness, as kindness is stronger that hate.

And if they shout at you, just simply walk away in silence. Because, a silent word is a powerful one.

Love Kelly “lets be chilled” Joy