Life

A Soliloquy To LIFE And The Ascension From Hell

Posted on by Helena

“Mom”!   His voice is stretched across the intercontinental connection that we call iphones,  “Cath’s girlfriend just died, she fell out a window!”

Collecting my senses,  “What do you mean?  What happened?  Was she alone?”

The air is suddenly thick.  It’s like a shroud that envelopes you when trauma of this sort is levied.   “Do I know her?”  My face screwed up and my voice became scratchy.

His breathing quickens.  I hear him panting as his blood pressure screams through his head.   He does not know death.   There were those before he was born, and s few with whom he had zero connection on my side of the family, but otherwise, Death was something you read about that happened to others.

“No.   She was with her boyfriend.  They were in her apartment and she fell out the window…”   Process death was obviously pulsating.

My reaction?  Boyfriend.   Window.   Not a good sign.   Yet it was ruled an accident.   She was just 30.  And the world simply moved on.   How strange that is.   A person can be surrounded by 100 friends their 20+ years, and yet if one or two dies, it is an accepted normalcy.   Like Pharma – declaring a side effect of ‘death’.   Normalcy.

I once had a dream of writing a successful novel, but after engaging in numerous short story competitions – years passed and I realized that the game was rigged.   Like every other game.   Like a football game – a soccer match – or the track race with the trans boy taking the lead by 100 feet.  It’s all rigged.

The only way you can succeed is by agreeing to become one of the puppets and tithing 10% to 20% for their efforts.   After the tax man, the agent, the tithe, the family, the charities, you are staring at a net profit of merely 10% despite you doing all the labor.   Such was the despair and fall of Brittney Spears, in my opinion.   Because it wasn’t just the tithe, it was the ‘initiation’.   An initiation she likely took place in that made her brain implode.   She can’t get it out of her head.   She participated in – evil.  She thought shaving her head would make it go away – but it lived.

I imagine there are thousands of others lured into the Hollywood cartel.   The children die.   The parents survive.  Is your first witness.  Brittany died – in her soul.  It is still her demon.   It is like the brief encounter between the media and Joan Rivers as she is walking up the steps to her flat being asked if she ever thought American would have a gay president?    She scoffed declaring it was hilarious – everyone in Hollywood knew – Michelle was trans and Obama was gay.

And as such she was ‘dieded’ mere weeks later undergoing cosmetic surgery – to shut up her strut.   Because that’s what they do – shut you up permanently.  Seth Rich.   Which brings to mind, will Julian Assange abide by the terms of his clemency and say no more?   Or will he reveal the Cartel?

People are assassinated every day.  Coup plots are rumbled in the War Room – every day.   And the double/triple agents are inserted into every aspect of life in order to incite you into a criminal charge – to actually create a matrix parallel justice system overlooped over our reality.  Making it nearly impossible to trust – anyone.   Even your boyfriend as you plummet to death out the window.

There was no autopsy.

When my son’s girlfriend broke up with him and handed back my diamond ring, whew, her response at the age of 33 was to go to a bar and get plastered with friends and the next day go to a concert.   Not exactly the pining one desires in the midst of a breakup.   Yet nonetheless – it reveals to him from a now distanced perspective – the extent of her compassion.   Or lack thereof.

And each breakup remains an embedded bitter stem from a tree, broken and roughed on the edges.  Until one day, the branches just break.   And they lay on the ground chopped into pieces for the trashman.  And then they’re gone.

How will my son handle this nightmare, is a mother’s challenge – knowing how to remain helpful but not hovering.

The tenuous balance that seemed healthy in our millennials seems to be splintering.   They don’t understand why these Zion Masters want them to suffer.  Naïve perhaps, yet they are aware enough that this is being purposely orchestrated and their lives are being systematically destroyed.  For no reason.   Out of their control.

When I was their age, I knew nothing.   I knew DC society was ostentatious and rude, but I was naïve to the political agenda.   They seem to have leaped past the retaining wall and entered into the Matrix of “NOT HAPPY”.

Unable to assimilate was my own cry for years.   “I don’t understand”?   “What’s the point”?  What I did begin to understand is that these Zions operate from a quite barbaric brain.  A small brain that we have likened to reptilian for their complete lack of compassion for LIFE.

Years ago, I had a dream.   I was in an emotional upheaval at the time – divorced with a 5, 3 and 19 month old boys – no child support – no alimony…  I dreamt that God came to me, I can picture him as much white with a robe of pale yellow and he linked his arm in mine and I clutched his as he took me on a voyage into Hell.  He wanted me to see.   It was everything insanity multiplied by a million – it was hard to breathe.   But it was like he was giving me a tour…  Yet we were cocooned.  He wanted me to see.

God told me that all these lost souls must be absorbed and regurgitated as ‘good’.  He told me the task was monumental and he wanted me to help.   I remember yelling at Him as we climbed back up to earth, that I was not strong enough!   He scoffed.   There was no way I could absorb such evil and not die.   But that’s what  He does – and the number of souls is near infinite – in Hell.

We live in a world of betrayal.   No one is immune.  No one can ever come out of it unscathed.   But it does reveal an interesting ‘good’.   Only the “good” are coming out bandaged – those whose ethics and values remain intact – despite the …  crap – while the perpetrators seem to live life in a constant state of needing ‘more’.  Unsatisfied.  Unhappy.

Having children, whether bio or adopted, alters your psyche.   For most – the animal instinct of caring, protecting, and nourishing are primal and born of ‘good’.   Many childless couples, divorcees, widowers etc… buy dogs and cats to fill the void – myself included – ie I have a dog.  Life without a dog would be incredibly lonely for both of us…

So, the spattering of rain coming from the depleted cloudseeded clouds has now left an abundant 1/16th of an inch of rain….   The grey silk has covered the sky and sound has all but died as the night settles.  And yet – another day has passed that we remain alive!

A Bit of Soliloquy About – Me…

Posted on by Helena

Let’s see/// I’ve dated – an architect, an engineer, a bean trader, a financial planner, a mercenary, an air force veteran, a playwrite, a pharma scientist, a cowboy, an FBI agent, a developer, a truck driver, a salesman, etc… – and yet people ask me to ‘profile the optimal man’.   What the fark?

As my first husband would admit – I am a good person and some people find this offensive because it challenges their own ‘goodness’.   And every ‘bad action’ becomes a point of contention against my goodness or perceived goodness.  I didn’t think turning into a ‘bad person’ to save my marriage was really God’s will.

Not an easy choice by any means, I took with me three young boys ages 5, 2, and 9 months to raise nearly by myself for the better part of their lives.   I make bad choices in men.   A therapist told me I was a walking doormat.   I didn’t much care for her – I thought she must have an evil twin sister and they  pretended to be one another, or else she was simply bat crazy!  Giving her a justification was giving her too much as it turned out.

Yet.   The doormat analysis was not the first time I had been called to the plate.   The first time was by a girlfriend who became an ex-girlfriend.   She basically declared that same analysis – I was fodder to walk all over.   And she did!   Until – I didn’t.

The vast majority of people with whom I have encountered my entire lifetime – I would say are by and large – unfriendly.   Certainly, some feel obliged to be the Great Pretenders, and others are just rather obliquely obsessed with hating my ‘appearance’.

There are curses in every GIFT!

So I prefer the salutary way of being friendly and kind.  I smile and say hello.  I laugh loudly! Smiles are nearly always met with smiles.   It is the antithesis of being flipped off and honked at incessantly for making a road mistake that suddenly is about RAGE and they are willing to literally KILL YOU! Farkalicious!

One would think these were good traits and/or characteristics of a human… but that would NOT be my experience.   Since my ‘coming of age’ I don’t think I have yet to meet a man who didn’t take exception to who I am and immediately enter into a dialogue of how they can make me better, different, and even – most recently – “subject to the authority of their judgement”.   As in whoa thar horsey!

The conversation stemmed when I made the mistake of asking,  “Why would I want to be a registered member of church?  It doesn’t give me any different privileges?”   And the answer I received,  “Because if you are a member then you must adhere to the dictums of the Leaders/Elders of the church within their authority.”

OUCHALICIOUS!   How to really, really support my reticence of ‘joining’ any ‘group’.  Essentially, the point of joining is for them to control me.   Which is akin to putting a bridle on a wild Blue Roan.  Beautiful horse.  They dominated my sculptures.

My first Blue Roan sculpture I named Barnabas.   Suited him perfectly – a young colt, perhaps a year old – still of the youthful spirit!   A favorite.

So I stay to the sidelines and watch and make mental pictures of everything I see.   Like my brain is a camera taking snapshots for me to later pull up on my brain screen to study and analyze.   While this talent came to be quite useful when taking the CPA exam, its usefulness seemed to wane.

I loved sculpting.   Every second I could spend daylight to sundown in my studio working and refining.   The sun was an important ambiance, and so my studio was ¾ windows – floor to ceiling – a small Juliet balcony, and me.   Anatomy was a prerequisite that later made me a snob.   Disproportion that was not purposeful, gained my disrespect for the talent.   Perhaps harsh, but then I am quite a harsh critic of dance having been a dancer.  Career number One.   I know the heart of dance, the soul of dance, the technique of – dance.   And without all three, the dance is bland and uninteresting.

Music is the same.   There are technique afficionada’s who can play to a precise metronome – but lack any heart – and so the soulless music is no different than an elevator drone.  I don’t play to a metronome.   I play when something inside me tells me to go sit down and play.   And so I obey.   Often it is to relieve my soul.   To empty myself of the darkness that is our America.   The realization and the absorption that we are the bad guy is rather – overwhelming.   But ultimately, crawling into a ball certainly does nothing of value – so we have to find how we can be of value.   For me – that evolved into blogging.   Digging.  Researching.   Finding what no one else is talking about.   Uncovering hidden truths.   And of course – analyzing the psychopathic …

I read incessantly.   Almost exclusively psychological thrillers.   An obsessive need to figure out the plot halfway thru or better.  A bit of OCD.

So.  Whatever began this monologue of mine?   I suppose it has to do with my worldly wish that I could once experience the love of a male with the unconditional love I have witnessed in many others.  I know it exists because I have seen it, watched it, reveled in it, laughed with it, and felt such joy in watching it!   So amazing!   I just selfishly would like a taste of that chocolate…

A child of eternal hope I am.   It is not my nature to give up.   I don’t see what purpose that facilitates.   So.   I think now would be a good time to listen to my heart and go play the piano…

Conservatives Attacking One Another: Father Forgive Them…

Posted on by Helena

When the hyena’s cackle and turn on one another, we laugh.   We laugh because we think we are above the backstabbing and hypocrisy. But lately I have been the brunt of numerous online attacks from supposed conservatives who have lost all sense of the logical and rational means of communicating.   It’s as if the global upheaval is just too much and insanity is creeping into their brains through their eyes, ears, and mouths.   Hideous frogs vomit from their mouths.   Jesus on the Cross:  “Father forgive them for they know not what they do”.  

Attack is like girls who slash themselves to re-impose their internal pain to an external pain as a distraction.    It is born of immaturity.

But they are fulfilling Biblical prophesy.

The once patient are now quick to temper.   The once reserved are lashing loudly.   And the once pious are filled with arrogance.   It is a torture of sorts.   Waiting for the slow death, starvation, and disease that are governments and NGO’s demand we be subject to.   Many will crack as we now witness in China.   And yet all of it is so unnecessary.   Not just our behavior, but the destruction of our globe by the truly wicked.

The news is brutal.   Finding something positive is an endeavor that seems unfathomable.   I remember a dream I had some years ago;

I had finally made it to the top of the mountain – a metaphor of life – but when I did, before me in the distance, across the horizon, were endless valleys of mountains that extended to eternity.   Each way down large rocks and boulders had to be navigated.   I sat down on a rock and began to cry.   Then Jesus came up behind (I never saw Him – but I felt Him) and put a hand on my shoulder.   He told me to not be afraid.  He said that the way down was to shadow the tree line where the grass was green and to slalom my feet like snow ski’s so that I would glide down.   I felt so relieved so cleansed that I didn’t even think about ‘the next mountain’.

The point is – the mountains are endless but standing still – arguing and fighting – gets you exactly nowhere.   We need to embrace that now more than ever.   It doesn’t mean going to church more, or giving more to charity.   It means whether you are at the top of your first, third or tenth mountain, whether you are plowing downhill, taking out a few people as you continue your journey will not profit you.

I will continue my research and my writing to hopefully uncover more truth within the pillage of lies, and sometimes I might be wrong.   Attacking me for the moments I am wrong, while standing absolutely stalk still, means you have succumbed to the wicked.   And your assault is no different than a slap in the face or a punch in the stomach.

Don’t be the one in the lament of Jesus when he said – ‘Father forgive them for they know not what they do’.

DO SOMETHING! And never stop climbing!

The PEN is Mightier Than The Sword – A Melancholy Journey

Posted on by Helena

The PEN, she is poised mid-air … we don’t know who to trust, we don’t know who is real or who is trying to set us up or who is planning to take us down.   A woman contacted me thru my blog and wants to know my sources, why and how I write and all I can do is search her and try to figure out if she is good or bad. Do I respond, or is she trying to hack into my computer?   She’s a computer geek by trade.   Of course, I did track her down – but knowing is left in the realm of deep breathing.

Melancholy can only describe how I feel.   How incredibly insane the Cabalists must be.   To want this level of destruction, to want massive deaths, to want millions of wasted lives now writhing in misery from a vaccine that isn’t a vaccine…   TO have people want to watch others lose their businesses, claim the loss is their own fault, and not have any compassion is a slow downward spiral.

Someone in Canada posted a picture of 4 chicken breasts selling for $32 and asked if anyone else was experiencing these price gouges.  Instead of compassion, the posts were about ‘I bought some yesterday for .92 per pound don’t know why you are complaining’….   WHAT?

I watched Pope Francis declare that the entire pedophilia fraud was not his fault but the fault of his predecessor…   A POPE – who is so self obsessed and flagrantly in collusion… A POPE who has done absolutely NOTHING of value in the entire nine years he has served in this robe, appointed thru the Clinton Cabalist ward at the asylum… on his deathbed – takes absolutely no responsibility.

IS the Pen really mightier than the sword?   I don’t know.  

When all is said and done and the gulag train stops at my door, will anyone come to my rescue?   Outside of my sons?   I doubt it.   All Big BootStraps and Cocky.   I doubt it.   All my media friends and blog patriots – will hightail and leave me to the gulag as they tend to their own.   Nary a backward glance.

After the Lizards destroyed our military of the most valiant and patriotic, they push a war with Russia.   Russia – which has hypersonic missiles – and we don’t.   Russia – which has deadly trained troops – and we’re relying on 6 fake mercenaries and women who couldn’t make the special ops cut but were passed anyway for ‘equity’.   For A Country that has absolutely zero trade with the US – and zero output with the exception of their newly entrenched US and foreign companies who set up shop just a half dozen years ago on the brokered Biden corruption.

AND even the most intellectual argue that in order to ‘dispel the Putin aggression’ the US must go to war over Ukraine.   What freaking aggression?   You mean Putin having a barrage of tanks and troops stationed 314 miles from Ukraine?   That aggression?   When was the last time Putin initiated a coup?   NEVER.   When was the last time the US did?   Every freaking year – including Ukraine 2014.

I feel like the lies are a tidal wave trying to drown me.   Each time, I kick to the surface and peel the onion.

MY entire life has been spent the inveterate ‘helper’.   I never asked for anything.

Did you know Elon Musk is busily creating a brain implant – TO HELP people who are disabled be able to use mind control over mechanical instruments so as to better their lives?   Be able to walk. Be able to even answer a phone.  

Simultaneously Gates and Fauci are using their time on earth to kill murder and maim people.

IMAGINE – what could be accomplished – how vast our world would be – how imaginative and productive it would be – IF collective efforts were more in line with Elon Musk?   All the futuristic predictions of scientific advancement might actually have already been realized.

Instead, these Lizards of nonhumanity would rather watch pain, suffering, destruction, chaos, and death.   I have long questioned the ‘Church’s’ view of suffering as being contrived from satan.   The entire sacrifice of Christ was to relieve us of suffering – not to embrace it as a Christian construct of redemption and Godliness!

How Wrong Is Our Belief?

AND SO. My Pen tonight is layered with tears.   Not as a sword.   But tears for the depravity that we embrace.   Ignoring the Word that was so simple – that was about the stewardship of earth, children, orphans, widows, divorced women, and those who are seemingly the target for annihilation by the Gulag Train.

I shed tears for this world – AND all its inhabitants.

NEW YEAR MISSIVE – Right There With You!

Posted on by Helena

Years ago, before I had my own children, I owned a daycare licensed for 72 children.   It was an abject nightmare constantly.   Not because of the children – but because of the parents and employees.   Ultimately what the experience provided was a very pronounced rebel attitude that my children would NEVER – Ever be products of Daycare.

The original purpose of daycare was to help single women to be trained in a profession so they could provide for their children given fathers were absent.   It was called – HeadStart.   I frequented HeadStart as a child advocate with my mother to be ‘a friend’.

But the tides shifted, and suddenly everyone wanted their children to be raised in institutions.

And yes, I am well aware that this will NOT be viewed as a Politically Correct Blog Post.

I didn’t actually become the owner on purpose, it was a trade in the 1980’s when my billable hours could not be met.   And so, in lieu I became the proud owner of a daycare.   For fifteen years.

In those days, employees were ‘rough’, ‘scarce’, and would likely not pass a background check by today’s standards.   But it was all we had.

Parent’s would arrive after hours to pick up their child.   Often times it was the Director who had to stay and wait. Sometimes parents could be found at the local bar or strip club down the street.   Other times, they simply – forgot.   They forgot their child.

Today, I was reading an article about Mary Tyler Moore and her guilt over her own son’s accidental suicide.   While claiming her son was simply ‘playing with guns’ and shot himself, she goes on to state that she and her son were not close at all – alienated actually.   Why?   Because television was more important.   Her career was more important.   Her life was more important – than her son.  He literally had no parents.

A friend I knew in Junior High had a very similar justification for her own son’s tragic tragic issues that resulted in him being a ‘street bum’. Drugged to infinity.   His mind literally obliterated. He spent his entire life on the streets, in jail, and in rehab that never worked.   She ‘wished’ he would die.

She had also recounted the daycare phenomena exalted upon her son from birth.   Institutionalized 12-14 hours per day, depending whether they remembered to pick him up, she justified it was all the father’s fault because her career was all important.

As we are confronted with the chaos of the black community erupting in complete anarchy we can trace their upbringing to – daycare.   Institutional flights of caregivers with no compassion, little education, and a vent of anger. The evolution of which, these children cannot differentiate between basic morality or ethics of right and wrong.   Their brains are stunted.   Their emotions thus rule.   And hysteria is the consequence.

While I was no perfection of a parent, it isn’t about perfection, it is ultimately about – being there.   And my personal take was always, “if you expect day cares or nanny’s to take care of your child from birth, why have a child?” As entertainment?

Recently, a friend asked me to babysit her infant grandchild so that she could go to dinner with friends.   The mother had to work, my friend was the defacto volunteer babysitter when her daughter worked.   But she wanted me to take her duty so she could play.  And was incensed when I said – no.

The mentality is not one of family, but one of ‘me’.   I am the most important. I am.   Me.   And it isn’t simply the 20something generation, whatever alphabet they are called, it is a very narcissistic development that has its talons in the 1960’s.

So if a mindset can be drilled into 3 generations, can it NOT be reset with a different mindset, based in Truth. Because the entire Mindset causation was to create a society of androids.   Essentially.   The sixties was about recreating ‘everything’.   Rules.   Ethics. Morality. Values.   Life.   Sex.   Education.   Social.   And this android series is called Generation24.   2024 is the year in which the globe will shift quite dramatically.

The recreation allowed for the algorithm of mind.   Meaning a person’s mind was ‘algorithmed’ to determine an algorithm to recreate that mind in a laboratory.   I suppose that technically would be the purpose of the transhumanism future.   How boring.

There is no challenge. It is like having a chess match when you know in advance your competitors every move because it has been algorithmed. So you know you can win.   Every single time.   Even if you are sleeping.   How Boring.

Yet it would appear this is the world envisioned as utopia for the elitists who truly believe that their drug induced vision is a ‘ya, man…’.   In fact they are sounding more and more like Milano Cookie Alyssa.   A 7th or maybe 8th grade education.   Ask her anything – she won’t know.

Off topic sortof: Recently the media was drooling over a picture of Bezos standing over his girlfriend while she doused herself with a hose on a yacht.   And here’s the twist: I saw a man who looked as though he were heavily drugged with some sex drug and was feeling a rage of potential rape.   His face was quite scary really.   And she was taunting him, she ruled him, she was pre-planned.

By contrast the media saw a man in love with his girlfriend.

Ya haf ta laf.

Tra la la, it is a New Year and I am being goulish.   But then, New Year celebrations have always been for the youth!   I had many grand times!   From a Balls to a Pool Hall.   It has been FUN!

I suppose the bottom line is that our world has splintered many a time in history.   Life has been bleak.   And it does get better.   No one wants to have the misfortune of being caught in that bleak time.   And yet, the best part is – most everyone is right there – with you.   In the bleak time.   And some very solid souls develop.  And maybe, just maybe, that’s NOT a bad thing…

 

 

TO THE WHO THAT IS ME

Posted on by Helena

I WONDER – IF they are going to burn down my state.   Will they blame the Climate as they light the tinder?   Likely.  Near My town the fires are blazing, burning out of control.   Out of Control.   650 homes and an entire mall gone in a matter of hours…   My son explained that it was so fearsome a person had literally 5 minutes from the time the fire hit their ‘street’ until it annihilated their house completely.    Winds topped 115 mph.

It has been a nasty la Nina, with dry dry conditions.   La Nina can last anywhere from 2 – 7 YEARS!.   We are in – maybe 10 months???

Some places dread earthquakes, others tornadoes, and still others hurricanes and floods, while Colorado has it’s own ‘wicked witch of the west’ which includes its seasons of disrepute; ie, winter, summer, spring or fall… HA.   Why do I live here?

My ex-husband used to say that he would sincerely miss my humor.   He used to say, ‘life with you is never boring’.   I took that as a compliment.   For me, the worst death would be a life that is – boring – or without a passion.  There have been a few that asked me to be less – than who I am.   Too this – too that.   So the person wants to be with me, except not the me that is me, the me, he wants to recreate to be me, so that I can then fall in step with his version of – me – and He will be happy.

But what about me?  I ask.  And he replies, “Who?’.

 

PIANO MUSIC: Soothes My Soul

Posted on by Helena

I adore just about anything with Piano, but when it is paired with a virtuoso violinist, the music consumes me!   Like dueling pianos or the rift between a man and a woman.   It takes ahold of my soul.   I love the ‘Build”.   And sends me back to God. Of course I have my preferences;   Debussy certainly.   Not a fan of Baroque.   And while I love the story of Mozart, I am not a fan of his music.   I know I might offend some, but it is simply a personal preference and nothing more.

Being a Debussy fan, other artists that conspire to the consume the same would include; Brian Craine, Michelle McLaughlin.   And of course Chad Lawson.   They – Understand.

Oddly, Debussy’s given name was Achille – as in Achilles Heal of lore. I don’t think there is a one of his pieces I don’t adore.   They just resonate!

I have been a believer that music heals all wounds since a child.   In old world charm, musicians sought to find the eternal soul, the child.

I first heard Elijah on the streets of Arizona.   A military veteran – a young man – a man who seemed steeped in values and ethics – was playing and I ventured to gather his information.   His story is self taught.   His story is a need to release what he saw and was privy to… And – this – is how he succeeds!

He – deserves – applause.

I truly hope you are well my friend…

It seems we are losing Art.   It is becoming some Woke illusion of nothingness and creative minds are clouding, greying.   Where are YOU?

Music helps bring me to a place of rock.   SO I thank you my friends.   It is a truly sad time in history.   May the Lord Bless Me and Save Me and Hold my Soul.   In God’s Name I Pray.

Civil War – A Feminine View

Posted on by Helena

So many stories to tell, stories behind closed doors, stories of love, of anguish, of failed lives and wishes that were never realized.   And still we each believe that our own story is bigger, more intricate, more sad.   Until somehow, a blustering wind blows through and reveals the travesty of barren land.

The grass is like stalks of scraping corn, lashing our legs as we romp through it’s fields.   Exalted in delight we know nothing of what it means to be a coward and gleefully embark on what is simply a moment in time.

You are simply you, and I am simply I, and the world is simply an extension of nature. That is all. And that is all it should be.

But somewhere in the sphere of evolution reality embraces us and for some, that reality is rooted in far more cryptic places than others.   And a schism is revealed.   But for those of the more refined years, we remember a wholly different world.

While some talk of great-grandparents, I can only attest to my parents and to a lesser degree – their parents.   Because such things were rarely discussed, and less likely debated!   Privacy was everything.   And one would not dream of challenging that morality.

I suppose I am considered of the generation that altered the internal makings of America, the US.   We created the feminists, the druggees, the rioters, the extremists, and even the anarchists!   They were born of my generation.   And I feel that despite this nuance, I, personally, am not to blame.   Any more than I, personally, am not to blame for the Fall of the Roman Empire and the succeeding Dark Ages.

And whether ‘blame ‘ is relevant, seems of no consequence as we spiral into the abyss that is reality.

My parents never argued in our presence, they never disputed what was appropriate for each of us, my five siblings and I, they relegated roles and those roles were absolute.   It would seem, that the absence of those roles is at the forefront of the decimation we now call normal.

Earth has actually changed little compared to those that inhabit its wealth of abundance. Our climate has changed, as it always has… our environment has seen much devastation, as it always has, and yet everything is considered – more different than it ever has been.

Art is frail.   Few can appreciate the images in the clouds.   Or the color of the horizon.   Fewer can understand the value of relation or comprehend its objective, its gift, or its worth.   Only a coward flees relationship.   The one meaning that gives us life.   The bastion of existence.

I look upon the expanse of mountains and sky across the perimeter that is my view and see God’s creation in it’s fullest.   I see the purple mountains that are now called ‘green’, the blistering blue sky that has been colored red, and the staunch demonstrative trees that defy definition or death despite the cholera of viruses levied upon them.

There is a stillness in the air tonight.   As though nature is waiting.   The birds are quiet. The squirrels have gone into hiding, and all life awaits in trepidation what will be – tomorrow.

I am told to purchase more guns.   I am told that within a few short months, my life will likely be expired. And it will not be without torture and pain. And somehow, these men of allegiance and defiance seem to believe that I, as a female of a different generation should confront and fire!   Alone.

And I begin to wonder are the heroes heroic?   Or do they simply splay the words as it becomes every ‘person’ for themselves?   And heroism is simply another term to describe self.

I am ambushed by descriptions of women who are not ‘feminine’ by men who are not masculine.   And the lack of masculinity is decried as a direct product of the failure of women.   Which women?   Me…?

Would you rescue me?

Unfortunately, the answer is – no.

Would you protect me?

Unfortunately, I am lumped into the feminist and the answer is – no.

Why?

Because.   Because somewhere in the cycle of life, feminists altered the schism and thus gave men a pass to no longer care.   And in that schism, some of us are left to fight a cold war without a gun.   I may be a victim of the post election trauma, and that is seemingly more and more plausible.   But telling me to ‘get a gun and fight like a man’ has about as much viability as me telling you to dress like a woman and dance a jig.

It defines the cowardice of manning up to protect and commit.   And shows that men have derailed themselves into a world defined by those whom they call abhorrent connivers, stealers, whorers, and unworthy – while justifying their means.

Yes, this describes some, not all, and yes, this would tend to describe those within my sphere, and no, I am not a feminist, but – in my passing, I would say, I gave my all!  I tried.  I am afraid.   And I will likely be – expired.