Sunday, September 11, 2011

Re-establishing Link

Once upon a time, in this very place, I published my life. It was moiratoner.com, and it was my publicly personal sandbox, playground, refrigerator door and window into the world of me.  It was a personal expression made public as a side-effect of publishing practicalities.

As I descended into the purification ritual known as The Great Recession, moiratoner.com disappeared.  Went dark.  Was silenced. Put on ice.  Like a cryogenic corpse, no one, not even the corpus that gave the corpse its previous life, knew its future.  Might the corpus survive to revive the corpse? If revived, might it be fresh and beautiful to behold or a distended, freezer-burned mutilation?

Today, I flipped the switch to thaw.  The account is re-established, and at this moment servers are replicating my default password change.  Attempts so far to fibrillate via ftp have failed.  I am standing down to allow settings to sync.  Paddles are recharging.

With each failed attempt to transfer data from the cold storage of my hard drive to the placental cloud of web wonderland, I resist the compulsion to start changing the look, feel and content of the corpse. I do truly want to see it revived as it was.  I want to see me as I was.

It was 2009.  Was that so very long ago?  Financially, emotionally, experientially, yes.  It was several lifetimes ago.  Two years ago, I was an innocent. A child. Unbroken. Whole. I had not passed through the Dark Night of the Soul.  I had not loved again.  I had not been brought to my knees by lack. I had not been chastised for my circumstances. I did not know fear.

In 2009, I thought I had done all of that.  I had not.  It was yet to come.

Through all that came, I kept only one vow--to free myself of anything that might be stripped away, except my integrity.

When the object of their chastisement was humiliation, I denied them their victory.  I met their attempts to shame me with anger, and turned anger's flame toward my dark corners to see boldly what fear made me vulnerable to their attempts to send me lower than a snake's belly and grind me into less than dust.

When the object of his anger was fear, I denied him my pain. I met his attempts to cower me with anger, and turned anger's flame toward my dark corners to see boldly what fear made me vulnerable to his attempts to break my spirit, drink the joy from my bones and turn my heart back into a husk.

In every dark corner I found Truth.  Integrity's demand, desire and drive for Truth ripped and slashed through every shrieking, shielding fear to reveal Truth.

Fear is nothing to fear when armed with Integrity--the lightening rod for Truth.  And Integrity stills all fears of all Truths.

Truth can indeed set you free.  It is the light hidden by fear.  Fear is a boogeyman.  An illusion.  A myth we believe because the truth may be more frightening than the fear itself.  Integrity is the weapon that can drive light into fear, and keep us ultimately safe and whole on the road to freedom.

That's where I've been.  I never left, and I don't know if I'm back.

Clear!  

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Attitude of Gratitude (12-Pack Guarantee)



There’s a few sayings that inspired this song.  “The pen is mightier than the sword.” “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”  “God, don’t grant me luck, grant me timing.” Well, those and many more like them are all true, no doubt.  Maybe there’s a slogan that sums it up best.  That’s why I call this number,

Attitude of Gratitude (or 12-pack Guarantee)

I know and love his heart and his integrity
My time with him I took the bitter with the sweet
I love his heart, his soul his life
And I pity his new wife
She’s a walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

He’s a good man like my daddy showed could be
When he wants to be the man he wants to be
He chose Bud Light over me
That’s when I refused to be
His walkin’ talkin’ 12 pack guarantee

Now I’m not being mean, that woman surely knows
From her tipsy frosted head down to her toes
It’s her job at Dairy Queen            
That fills his Jeep with gasoline     
She pays the trailer rent and light
The neighbors’ cars wake ‘em up at night
Her job’s a walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

His Gifts of Venus can make any woman gasp
But barley brews keep it lowered to half mast
On the night they’re newly wed    
She’ll need the bunny in her bed
She’ll need more than a broom
To get the groom outta his own room
She’s just his walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

[Slowly, with great feeling, like a hymn or gospel song…]
Now we’ve both said all there is to be said
To our waters we have both been surely led
He married beer and bread and board
Now it’s half his says the law and Lord
He’s got his walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

I may have gone from debutante to double wide
That never hurt my love for me, just my pride
I miss the good man at my side
So strong and safe, he was my guide
But I’m no walkin’ talkin’ 12-pack guarantee

She’s his walkin’ talkin’ ice cream hawkin’
Bet my talkin’s set her sister squakin’
Better her than me…
She’s his walkin’ talkin’ 12 pack guarantee


Copyright 2011 Moira A Toner