Hello! Welcome to my first Fēldz Ov In-kwe-rī (Fields of Inquiry) Forum Post. When it comes to penning on the old onion skin I am not a women known for being short on words. In truth, I find the written word so much more powerful in different ways than the spoken word. It allows my brain to breath and place things in some sort of chaotic, yet organized (hypnotic but not chronic), order. It affords me a venue to truly craft the point, feeling, picture, emotion, or scene that I am trying to convey.
Writing allows me take a break from the congressional conglomerate that is forever quibbling in my cranium. The “Congressional Conglomerate” you ask? Well let me fill you in as there are several colorful committees rattling around in my head. They follow in order of recognizable sanity to asylum worthy degradation. I have thus far discovered the Committees of: Conveyance, Diplomatic-Schism, Fiduciary Ménage, Philanthropic & Faith, Swiss-Zone, Arts & Cultural, Domestic Architecture, Persnickity, Screwuppiness, Down Right Ka-raaazy, Snafubar, Empathopenic, and finally (and typically least attended to) the Depleted Self-Care Committee. Don’t kid yourself…you have your own committees wrestling around in the old brainpan, take a tour “up there” and you will find them, druggerd-out, laying on a couch with 3 springs sticking out and smelling like old gym socks in a rain puddle…..but maybe that’s just my head…..
I find these committees incestuously familiar to those found in our country’s framework. They continuously bicker and lobby for center stage like siblings fighting over who gets to ride shotgun or who crossed the imaginary my-space/your-space line in the back seat. Usually one of the committees will edge out the others to rule the day. The Arts & Cultural Committee is the one I relish the most. It gives me refuge, allowing me oodles of “woosha” moments, thereby facilitating a much needed sojourn to my happy place of Zen (insert mental picture of not so super flexible self with scrunched up face in Lotus pose.)
In my recent retirement, I find the "committees" have fallen rather silent, with the Artistic Committee away on holiday. I find myself pondering (a word of southern dialect meaning “to think pensively”) what I am going to do when (if?) I grow up. I am certainly not of an age to put out to pasture like an old mare. So, what will my next adventure be? What does the future hold? In my quest to discern which brush-laden path to follow, I think I will take the opportunity to spread my proverbial wings (not my levitical ones) and view the world from above the trees. It is time to squirt some WD40 on those hinged doors---the pros call it Kroil…but that’s another conversation---that have been closed and replace the musty restrained silence with thought provoking conversation. It’s time to pull out the witches broom used as last years Halloween prop and clear away the plethora of cobwebs in my head. Time to enjoy and get lost in what feeds my soul—needs that have been relegated to an afterthought out of obligation; be it to the uniform, someones else's agenda, standards and codes of conduct, and prescribed—if not expected—neutrality and impartiality. In a nutshell, I no longer have to be "Switzerland". The Swiss-Zone Committee can enjoy all the Mai-Tai’s on a beach in Punta Bulata it can handle. My thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and talents are mine to reclaim and be shared if I so choose.
To be clear, it is not as if I’ve held radical thoughts in reserve...quite the contrary. I simply felt an internal responsibility and prudence to do so. In defense of our nations principles, I afforded others the space and freedom to speak their own mind; now I have (and have earned) the opportunity to do so.
So come along and join me as I explore a myriad of subjects. I LOVE having fun with words and language that makes people think; but I am not an English professor and will make mistakes from time to time. I do not profess to be a the authority on anything I write about (unless specifically stated), but merely a participant on a conglomerative journey we all experience. So, be it pain, resiliency, and lessons I’ve learned (often the hard way), the artistic humor and gifts found in the “every day”, a good read of a newly penned short story, A fabulous meal, or the analysis/discussion of topics on the national stage - I will always endeavor to be creative, earnest, and sometimes even provocative in my quest for knowledge as an authentic “life-artist". It is my time to live life the way it was meant to be…not as a journey to the grave in a pretty, well-preserved and uniformed body, but rather lived larger then life, with honor and humility, yet to skid in broadsided, thoroughly used up, and loudly proclaim “What a hell of a ride!”