MY PERI LADY!

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“I have never seen any transformation that didn’t begin with someone finally getting tired of their own bullsh*t.”— Elizabeth Gilbert 
Hola! Let me begin! ♥
Once upon a week ago I had the crappiest time of my life. A genuinely lollygag nine days agh’ crap of apathetic moping coupled with outbursts of slipshod vexation  indiscriminately aimed at nothing and everything.
Life was lamentable heartache and comedic dejection; A manic insomniac dieting on porridge bowls of chilled self-pity, snacking on protein bars of power perturbation, and juiced up on disquietude.  Loathing was dessert!
Unbelievable but, eeks’… I also started breaking out in zits and other reddish facial  itches which complemented my aura of loca!
Now, I am  Piscean as can be – fluid, flowing, more into my own dream world where life is crystal clear spring water breathing. Nothing can bait me. Nothing! I have girly gills to swim through fishy circumstances and  slippery situations. – That particular nine days though felt like muck. Like I was fish out of water, flip flopping, sodden, air gasping baracuda!
Strange. Strange how rhapsodic  days can mutate into drowning billows of atmospheric melancholy. Shouldn’t I know better? Now that I am older? S-I-G-H.
“You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.”— Elizabeth Gilbert
And in that questioning came my answer – ‘getting older,’ hah!  A revealing truth up to consider. It is logical. It is understandable. It can be handled – joyfully!  Seven months to fifty ( yes, 50 ) welcomes me smack in the midst of PERI. All compounding adolescent mimicking symptoms are in place, except I was never really pimply back then; There’s always a first time of course!
“There’s no trouble in this world so serious that it can’t be cured with a hot bath, a glass of whiskey, and the Book of Common Prayer.”— Elizabeth Gilbert 
20170821_105020Reading up on self- care regarding this natural change in a woman’s life is e-m-p-o-w-e-ring, whew! I am so NOT bonkers ALONE, hahaha! It relieves and casts a wave of confident ease in handing the onslaught of hormonal turbulence. Femme ammunition finally!
I have discovered generous sites of essential learnings available in the web. Some sites not only educate but bring together a worldwide community of  loving women forum support! How fortunate of ladies like you and me who have health, medical and spiritual  information at the tip of our fingers. Knowledge that feeds the mind, settles the spirit, and adds remarkably to the quality of life is verily ours!
What of others who have no access? No resource? No relational support?
I think of these innumerable number of women – out there on their own – confounded and bearing up with the flummox of  changes this season in life brings; the typical aches and mood swings brought about by chemical imbalances that can baffle and truly rattle normal life. The medical world has achieved great strides in women’s health – but access for all remains a struggle. This should be addressed. Women’s health care should be paramount in world importance!
As for me, the two top women’s health websites I rigorously consult  are the following: 
It was a fine fair weather day last Sunday so my husband and I decided a lunch out. As I sat in our car, taking in the banality of cemented pavement, a sudden  slicky crisp of brilliance permeated my senses. I had been articulating wry attempts for illumination the days past, and apparently, my angel guide must have decided then and there to sit by my side for the rest of the ride, haha!
Everything was suddenly lucent like, even the road ahead unencumbered and clear, as with, I realized, my soul and the rest of  life.

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These pictures capture a time last month when I was having the time of my life lounging by the pool with a book! 😀

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When I Greet The Morning

Morning Mary Oliver Salt shining behind its glass cylinder. Milk in a blue bowl. The yellow linoleum. The cat stretching her black body from the pillow. The way she makes her curvaceous response to the small, kind gesture. Then laps the bowl clean. Then wants to go out into the world where she leaps lightly and for no apparent reason across the lawn, then sits, perfectly still, in the grass. I watch her a little while, thinking: what more could I do with wild words? I stand in the cold kitchen, bowing down to her. I stand in the cold kitchen, everything wonderful around me.

Morning ~ by: Mary Oliver

Salt shining behind its glass cylinder.
Milk in a blue bowl. The yellow linoleum.
The cat stretching her black body from the pillow.
The way she makes her curvaceous response to the small, kind gesture.
Then laps the bowl clean.
Then wants to go out into the world
where she leaps lightly and for no apparent reason across the lawn,
then sits, perfectly still, in the grass.
I watch her a little while, thinking:
what more could I do with wild words?
I stand in the cold kitchen, bowing down to her.
I stand in the cold kitchen, everything wonderful around me.

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When I wake up in the morning I prostrate to the sunrise and extend my arms in adoration. Being older and wiser and much more in kin with mortality, my 46 years of well-being gesticulates my  reverence towards the sky. I sing the respects and praise the handiwork of Divinity, humbly donating the treasures of un·cer·tain·ty for what the day could hold or give or take from me. I am human, bent at the mercy of time and its elements, this is my weary assumption before my stretching prayers touches the ether. 
I close my eyes and feel the earth squish under my feet. Sometimes it is damp and my mind wanders to wonder at the slugs and frogs likely looking upon me. What sight I probably make! Then I smell the mingled scent of blessings!  It assaults my nose; first the damp dew, then the waking grass, then the willowing weeds, then the amorous petals of Dahlia’s or Dama de Noches flirting their fragrant pheromones in the dark of dawn.
Black and beguiling, the sky, amused, looks down at all this, and obliging in humor, plucks a pearl from its million swirls and hurls it across the universe. The stars graze their flicker selves across, blazes in a hurtle and plunges down in a long drawn fading sparkle. Perhaps an errant guilt – riddled teen creeping back home would look up and make of it a strange unidentified phenomenon.  The Universe has a sense of humor. At 4 am in the company of no one, I have joined it. People slumber through the dawn, while nature is at play.

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I know why Mary Oliver writes about her entertaining mornings. I have so much of mine too.