tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36635052011-04-21T17:01:37.508-07:00A few fleeting memories as they waft through the velvety charcoal-grey folds of my mind. A web perhaps, ensnaring the senses and capturing the thought before the moment retreats into oblivion.Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comBlogger461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1158605443575164722006-09-18T11:46:00.000-07:002006-09-18T11:50:43.576-07:00

I remember when I was very young, hearing the trees whispering to each other, in soft slow tones. I could hear it in the wind, in the leaves, in the bark, in the earth. Through all channels they spoke. The shared their stories, their insights, their fears, their wisdom with me. All I did was listen, and listen with my entire being. I understood them, and they understood me. I've never stopped

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1158605157886238732006-09-18T11:41:00.000-07:002006-09-18T11:45:57.896-07:00

I remember when I was about 16, during one long morning at church , I went outside to catch a breath of fresh air. All around me danced dragonflies. With me was my good friend, Jon. He watched as they danced and spiraled about, sensing a deep connection between the dragonflies and me. He then spoke a sentence that has stuck with me since the. He said," You are the dragonfly queen." I smiled,

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1157678154799325642006-09-07T18:14:00.000-07:002006-09-07T18:31:27.770-07:00

I remember as a girl running through the long grass at night, naked, under the light of stars and moon. Free. I felt free. Free of binding thoughts, binding clothing, binding relationships. Free. I was free, as fairie dancing, honoring sister moon, honoring Gaia, honoring myself. A trio of sisterhood, womanhood, and spirit.I still dance naked in the moonlight. I hope you do too.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1102738689905982412004-12-10T20:14:00.000-08:002004-12-10T20:18:09.906-08:00

If you wish to shrink it, you must certainly stretch it. If you wish to weaken it, you must certainly strengthen it. If you wish to desert it, you must work closely with it. If you wish to snatch something from it, you must certainly give something to it. This is called the Subtle Light. The submissive and the weak conquer the strong. -Tao Te Ching I begin anew. I just deleted two of my other

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1069340063009906292003-11-20T06:54:00.000-08:002003-11-20T06:54:48.890-08:00

I remember when I was about 15 or 16 I would leave the comfort of my well lit home and wander off into the black velvet of night. Many of my favorite adventures were done under the cover of night. Many evenings I had the company of my little white pooch, Lukie, who was very easy to spot in the blackness. Together we would traverse miles of deer trails that wound into the thick tangle of woods

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1063285209977174412003-09-11T06:00:00.000-07:002003-09-11T06:00:09.820-07:00

I remember where I was when I first heard about the terrorist attack on the TT. I was driving south on HWY 371 in my van. It was around 8:30 or 8:45am and I gave my mom a call on the cell phone. She relayed to me the information she was hearing off MPR about a plane crashing into one of the towers. From what she understood, she thought it was a small plane, not a jet of any size. I wasn't

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1063284295683880222003-09-11T05:44:00.000-07:002003-09-11T05:44:55.586-07:00

I find it strange that I feel the need to journal. How is it that one can live an entire lifetime without writing down something about who and what they are? Every day, many times throughout the day, I compose an entry that would be logged if I had a keyboard then and there. Many millions of restless words rustle around in my mind, yearning for the time they too can join the visible world. I

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-1057372420011712172003-07-04T19:27:00.000-07:002003-07-04T19:33:40.053-07:00

I remember a time when I was completely happy. I had passion. Where did my passion go? When and why? My passion pit is an empty hollow void, truly devoid of the yeast of life. I remember at time when I painted until 4 am, when I carved stones with sharp deadly tools, when I played my trumpet with hope and pure glee, when I soar thousands of miles above the earth in the safe harbour of my trusty

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-2000212712003-03-20T22:12:00.000-08:002003-03-20T22:12:41.330-08:00

I haven't forgotten. My memory isn't that bad. I just don't want to write right now. I am exploring other avenues, as usual, and this one isn't right up my alley at the moment. Perhaps I will resume my meandering through memories, but for now I am content to let it lie still for a while longer. Spurts. Always in spurts.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-902361032003-01-26T09:50:00.000-08:002003-01-26T09:55:00.000-08:00

I remember little of the first two years of my marriage other than I lived in a house and I was mostly depressed. A few days before Christmas in 1997, Ryan and I moved into our rental house, jokingly called "Pooh Corner" because it was on a hundred wooded acres. We had spent the past month cleaning, painting, sanding floors, and making general improvements that the house desperately needed. It

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-902197422003-01-22T10:52:00.000-08:002003-01-22T10:52:13.110-08:00

As long as I can remember, I've wanted talents that I most likely will never have. Such as the ability to write well, and I mean well. And the ability to sing beautifully. And to be beautiful. I wish there was one talent that I had that shone so brightly that it was unmistakable. I wish that I were more intelligent and could remember the words that intrigue me and be able to carry on an

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-902197122003-01-22T10:45:00.000-08:002003-01-22T10:45:43.720-08:00

I remember a time when I wanted to kill my family. I was in my early to mid teens. The dreadful thought usually occurred on Sunday mornings, as I dragged my body out of sweet slumber and obligingly donned the dutiful church attire that I hated so. Sunday was the the day when life was made hell by my parents forcing me to attend church. I can remember standing in front of my bedroom window,

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-901363562003-01-02T21:37:00.000-08:002003-01-02T21:37:06.520-08:00

I remember what my most frequent New Year's resolution was. Since the age of twelve I had the habit of picking apart my split ends. It was an easy and mostly enjoyable way to pass the time on the long and tedious bus rides from school, while waiting for some one to arrive, for a task to be completed, or during any lull in my life. Picking my hair helped to calm my senses, and put my mind at ease

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-900527472002-12-14T11:39:00.000-08:002002-12-14T11:39:52.140-08:00

I remember cutting down the spruce tree on Trieschman's property at Christmas time. I was a young teen, 13 or 14 and my sister and I wanted an additional tree for Christmas to decorate in our room. Often my siblings and I would pilfer trees from the neighbour's properties for Christmas, for we lived in an area with many available small pine trees, perfect for such occasions. Kids can steal trees

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-900527002002-12-14T11:18:00.000-08:002002-12-14T11:18:16.770-08:00

I haven't writen because I wanted to see if anyone would continue to check my site for updates. Yes. I know. In some ways I don't want anyone to read my words. And the desire to have visitors wins out, hence the online webjournal. Why would anyone ever write anything if they didn't truly want or expect someone to read their words?

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-856863882002-11-17T21:26:00.000-08:002002-11-17T21:26:52.036-08:00

I remember swimming at night in the creek that runs through our property. If the river was high we would float down stream on our backs, in the twilight. Often there would be spider webs strung across the river and illuminated by the dim glow of the moon. We would start the short journey in the knee high swimming area. There were three areas, the knee high area, the rocky area, and the deeper

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-856624322002-11-11T07:15:00.000-08:002002-11-11T07:15:45.293-08:00

I remember when I was a young teen, my father, at the time, worked as a custodian and maintenance man for our church. He worked with many harsh chemicals and operated machines such as the lawnmower, floor buffer, and various vacuums. Every Sunday the church was spotless, for my father toiled many hours the previous week cleaning up after the horde of people that ensured his cleaning position.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-856479872002-11-06T16:39:00.000-08:002002-11-06T16:39:01.906-08:00

I remember being scolded by my father when we were in the grocery store. He, in a very intense and slightly menacing tone, commanded us no to touch ANYTHING while we were in the store. I wanted to caress the fruit. Who doesn't. If my entire family went shopping it meant that 6 kids of varying ages were roaming the stores and he didn't want anything to get broken, which was sensible. I remember

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-856077612002-10-27T08:12:00.000-08:002002-10-27T08:12:17.746-08:00

I remember when I was younger, if there had been a substantial snow fall during the night we would rise early from our beds and start the day off by greeting the snowplow. We would rise from our slumber early, about 6 am or so and with a rush we would, the six of us, run downstairs to the basement and gather up our partially dry winter wear. The younger kids had jackets and snowpants, while we

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-855839642002-10-20T22:59:00.000-07:002002-10-20T22:59:56.773-07:00

I would like to post more often but in a flailing attempt to restrict my internet usage, my weblogs suffer. If only I could write my thoughts and post them telepathically. If only. Just a note of explanation. I would rather enjoy my time as a mom than on the net. Life is too short to spend it all at a keyboard.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-855839562002-10-20T22:57:00.000-07:002002-10-20T22:57:13.036-07:00

I remember the first time that I felt Ethan kick when I was pregnant with him. I receiving my first Reiki Attunement (of all the times he chose that one!) I was sitting in a chair with my eyes closed, the tibetan bells chiming loudly in the background. My body was still, my breath calm, my mind at ease. I was melting into the moment, feeling the reiki energy coursing through my veins, radiating

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-855601822002-10-14T09:13:00.000-07:002002-10-14T09:13:14.140-07:00

I remember graduating from four years of Seminary. Four years of waking at 5:30 am four days a week. Four years of reading "the word of god" at an hour when my brain wasn't even remotely working. Four years of being taught by a great teacher. Four years of walking or driving over to her house before the sun rose to brighten the black world of night. Four years of memorizing selected scriptures.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-855245432002-10-04T07:37:00.000-07:002002-10-04T07:38:06.000-07:00

I remember learning how to slowly blink my eyes to make myself more attractive to a boy that I desired. I was in sixth grade, and was strongly attracted to a certain boy, had been for the year or so prior, and was learning how to move my body to be more attractive, especially my eyes. My attempts were successful, and he fell for it, though when his girlfriend came back from her girlscout troop

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-854823522002-09-23T11:01:00.000-07:002002-09-23T11:01:36.446-07:00

I remember when at the age of fourteen or so I got my long hair cut like River Phoenix, who was still alive at that time. I loved his hair, how it embodied the rebellious spirit I felt within myself. I begged my mother to cut it for me and she finally relented. I looked like a boy, but what else did one expect when it was a boy's haircut. It was long in the front and short and shaved up the back.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-854499002002-09-14T08:03:00.000-07:002003-01-02T21:24:46.000-08:00

I remember getting out of bed at three am one Sunday. I got dressed and ready for work. I was going into work two hours early to be able to attend church to see a friend that lived out of town who would be there that day. I drove into town in my little subaru. The sky was still and darkly blanketed with the night. The streets were void of any activity. It seemed for a brief moment that I was the

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-854463812002-09-13T06:11:00.000-07:002002-09-13T06:11:30.980-07:00

I remember running late at night, miles and miles under the velvety black sky, often gazing upwards at the heavens, dotted with silver flecks of shiney orbs. I remember tring to lose myself in them, wishing to be anywhere but where I was, wanting deliverance from my seemingly wretched plight. The angst of a teenager, somehow we all experience it, though some linger in such moments far beyond

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-854366132002-09-10T20:52:00.000-07:002002-09-10T20:52:19.373-07:00

I remember touching hands under the blanket as we sat in the chairs watching television. Hiding our love, hiding our passion for each other. We caressed each other's hand, sending a silent message, promising more than words could ever communicate.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-3854366032002-09-10T20:48:00.000-07:002002-09-10T20:49:33.000-07:00

I remember sitting in the firelit night next to him. I ached within to know if he liked me as well. I was too scared to share my feelings for him with him. The stars sang overhead. I remained quiet, introspective. I longed to let out my passion, and have it returned. I watched him watch me and suspected that he was feeling something similar. We were connecting, as we spoke our words and shared

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-854153702002-09-04T20:07:00.000-07:002002-09-04T20:07:49.366-07:00

I remember laying on the floor over a thin blanket. The air conditioning was blasting out from the vent overhead and chilled me to the bone. Sleep was at best measly and though I was intending to be one of those that stayed awake through the night, the night time vigilante, I couldn't keep my lids open and succumbed to sleep long before daylight peeped through the windows. The hours spent on the

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853765382002-08-23T19:37:00.000-07:002002-08-23T19:37:30.636-07:00

I remember dreaming about my house burning down, my childhood home. In the dream I always threw out my books and records or tried to box them somehow to prevent them from damage. If I was unsucessful in saving them I would wake and reconstruct the dream in a new dream sequence with a happier ending. I have always placed great value in my books and records. Now, I dream only of saving people. What

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853510012002-08-16T04:17:00.000-07:002002-08-16T04:17:44.066-07:00

I remember frolicking in the cold winter snow during the winters of my childhood. We were Lords of Snow, Kings of Snow Mountain, Villains of Snowballs....the essential winter-time enjoyments. We were more daring than most kids in our neighbourhood, like wild natives who are masters of their land. We hurtled ourselves out of tall standing firs in the woods ten, twenty, thirty feet high, down

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853327472002-08-10T12:14:00.000-07:002002-08-10T12:15:01.000-07:00

I remember lying under the plum trees in the small orchard at my family's house. In the summertime they were a green canopy that provided me coolness on hot simmering days. I would crawl into the orchard because the plum trees had long sharp spines that you wanted to desperately avoid. I would crawl or slither on my belly through the sweet smelling bushy grass to the belly of the orchard, the

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853204942002-08-06T13:19:00.000-07:002002-08-06T13:19:34.500-07:00

I remember towing the Subaru home. It was my first car and it didn't run. What else would you expect for $100. I was 17 and was able to purchase this car from a local couple that had recently bought a new Subaru. I had posted adds up at school, "Wanted: Foreign Car"...something like that and listed the Makes of cars that I was interested in. I really wanted a Saab. I've always wanted a Saab. I

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853144462002-08-04T20:03:00.000-07:002002-08-04T20:03:10.010-07:00

I remember a house in the middle of vast fields. The house was a gem, a rare gem. It seemed to me that when I first came apon the house I was looking at a treasure, X marks the spot. I had been reprogramming turtles for several days and was in the Red Lake farm country. I was driving around a little red Olds and giving it a good beating. There was one turtle on the map that I couldn't drive out

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853114312002-08-03T13:09:00.000-07:002002-08-03T13:09:49.563-07:00

I remember when I had Adrianna claw up my left hand. I must be thinking of hands today. She had tremendously long nails and it was on the 1.5 hour ride home that we were testing our pain thresholds. I couldn't let Chris beat me. She had only sunk her nails in slightly into his hand, the top side skin. There were little half-moon red gouges that he considered his badge of honor. I had to beat him.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-3853114202002-08-03T12:59:00.000-07:002002-08-03T12:59:40.713-07:00

I remember when Socrates the ferret bit my hand, the flesh between the forefinger and thumb. I picked him up off the ground as he sunk his teeth deeper into my flesh. I don't know why I ever bought a ferret after that experience. Luckily Chachi is a lovely furry land eel, aka ferret.

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853082682002-08-02T08:35:00.000-07:002002-08-03T13:10:10.000-07:00

I remember twirling on top of a table at church and breaking one of the legs off. It was a cheap table made of particle board and metal. It was bound to break. I had the misfortune of being the one to break it. Mary and I never told a soul. We continued to spin on other table tops but never on tables like the cheap one. Spinning on tables was my favorite pastime at church, next to closet

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-853026482002-07-31T15:31:00.000-07:002002-07-31T15:31:12.396-07:00

I remember when I jumped from the plane. I wasn't even remotely close to death. I was close to vomiting but when you're falling at terminal velocity your stomach isn't thinking. You're not thinking much other than "Shit". Good shit. I would gladly be a fallen angel if I could fall from the sky once in a while. With my instructor on my back, he released the drag chute shortly after our departure

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-3852973302002-07-30T09:52:00.000-07:002002-07-30T09:52:22.010-07:00

I remember eating chokecherries until my teeth were yellow and my tongue was raw from the bitter taste. We picked them by the thousands during the summer harvest. In addition to eating many hundreds of the little crimson balls of tangy tartness, we cooked them on the stove until they were soft and the juice was running. After cooking, we removed the berries and pressed them in a sive to remove

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852931972002-07-29T07:29:00.000-07:002002-07-29T07:29:42.783-07:00

I remember my first ride in the saab. If you can imagine nirvanna inside a car, or the car itself, that's close to how I felt. The seats were purple velour and so smooth to touch. The car hummed as it started, and the sound was saab. No other car makes such a sound, though I know all cars have their unique sound. It purred, for me. I loved that the ignition switch was located between the front

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852918872002-07-28T19:09:00.000-07:002002-07-28T19:09:15.766-07:00

I remember my first kiss. I was in the bedroom upstairs in his house. It was his bedroom. The room was dimly light, only by the fading light from outsite. We were laying faceing each other on his bed. I had never been so close to a boy before. My breath was hot. My lungs were tight and my body was tense from anticipation. We had talked and then we began to find the attraction between us growing

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852897102002-07-27T19:47:00.000-07:002002-07-27T19:47:45.293-07:00

I remember hearing the swing snap as I was nearly as high as I could get. The rope had broken and I was falling down towards the ground. I hit the ground hard. Very dense, earth is. There is no give when you've fallen 10 feet. My bones felt as though they had shattered. I was winded and in shock but soon the reality of my situation hit. I was in pain. My body was racked with a growing screaming

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852890052002-07-27T13:59:00.000-07:002002-07-27T13:59:51.470-07:00

I remember a gift that was intended for someone else. This gift was intended for my husband and his ex, to be given to them on their wedding day, which never happened. The gift had their names on a heart that was stuck inside it. I remember finding the gift as I was cleaning and I was left with a sick sinking feeling in my gut. I hated this gift. I hated what it represented. I wanted to wipe out

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852889772002-07-27T13:50:00.000-07:002002-07-27T13:50:16.200-07:00

I remember getting a phone call 12 or 1 in the morning. There was someone on the line that had just ended a relationship and she needed a person to talk to. I drove over to her house and somehow we ended up sitting in my car for an hour talking, or rather I listened. Then we went into her house and down into her bedroom and talked for another hour or so. I left about 4am in the morning. As I sat

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852865632002-07-26T13:41:00.000-07:002002-07-26T13:41:29.576-07:00

I remember gardening as a child. I hated having to pick out the big rocks and hurl them into a growing pile. Who ever thought that growing rocks was a good idea? One year I tried growing my own 12X12" section. It was the only one out of my siblings lots to survive and produce. We were never very dedicated to our daily chores of weeding and preening the plants. I loved picking the fresh peas of

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3663505.post-852860162002-07-26T10:46:00.000-07:002002-07-26T10:46:34.443-07:00

I remember the day that we moved into dragonfly house. I had just left behind a house that I hated, for reasons that I regret now, but I was so relieved to be inside a house that was all mine. My first house with my husband. We moved into Dragonfly House in 1999. We purchased it on our anniversary. I remember spending the first night in the new bedroom. It was white then, with a floral wallpaper

Lady Ambernoreply@blogger.com