At this juncture

I am in

the second decade of the third trimester

of my life.

This means I am 71 years old

(if one considers a fully-lived life to be

somewhere around 90 years).

 

I adore my age.

 

No one yells at me.

No one tells me what to do.

I get to be with my Rescue Animals and

my Service Dog

non-stop.

 

My Rescue Animals all sleep with me

(four wise cats and a dog).

 

Writing takes precedence and is glorious.

Non-stop music composition

strengthens my heart and fills me with joy.

I play my lap harp

Appalachian Style,

my guitar, 

the glory-inspiring piano,

and the “love of my life”

cello ~

any time I wish,

day or night.

 

Sketching art pieces in pencil,

watercolor,

and oil

lifts my heart

up to where birds soar in

peaceful dancing harmonies.

 

I hear no one arguing.

 

A classical ballet barre

is my primary choice of movement

along with kayaking,

competitive swimming, and

“silly-dancing” with my pets.

As my sight improves with eye surgeries,

my hearing competes with roaring internal sounds. 

 

I seek ways to heal holistically.

 

Writing music

becomes pure joy

any time of the day or night.

 

Researching

how to fix my very old (now non-draining) 

washing machine

takes about 18 months of thinking…

every day I seek ways to fix it while isolated. 

I do it. Or, I think I do it. 

Or, perhaps my bloodline First Nation Great Spirit does it ~

or the Irish lineage of my

Higher Power. 

 

Finding out how to properly work

on my vacuum cleaner 

becomes yet another daily thought process

with tutorials teasing me.

 

I am surrounded by

mother nature re-framed 

on a clear lake.

Working the grounds outside

is healing and fulfilling.

 

I purposely refrain from all social media

and consciously abstain

from being glued to my phone,

separating from it whenever possible.

 

I find  

daily coursework

online 

can 

heal my brain’s hungry soul.

These actions increase my curiosity

as well as elevate 

 possibilities.

 

This brings me tremendous joy!

 

Forgotten memories

return for joy-filled moments of recollection.

Love and forgiveness for myself

and all others

is my primary daily role in life

as I isolate in quarantine.

 

Awarenesses are revealed

when perusing my life of 

humans 

no longer present,

the current state of our culture,

and the state of the earth

coping

with climate changes.

 

Some things I notice:

I stand aware that intimacy

(okay, for me this is sexual bonding with a male)

seems to increase my desire

to drink alcohol

and appears to act as a trigger.

 

It is more calming for me to simply

not get involved.

Additionally, I notice going to

alcoholics anonymous meetings 

seemingly (for now)

increases my desire for alcohol. 

 

Why?

Can this be?

Is it a passing phase?

Or, am I deeply mistaken?

Until COVID forced our meetings to cease,

I did not perceive this.

 

As an alcoholic/CIRS/CPTSD-labeled human with

syncope and panic attacks,

I find this life

quite fulfilling and recommend it to all.

 

Each of my so-called “labels” falls away

to linger as detritus

waiting

to be kicked to dust.

 

My labels are

no longer so important.

 

My heart hungers to

love and forgive

myself

along with

others.

 

My soul carries love 

for all. 

All.

 

CIRS: (chronic inflammatory response syndrome) Mycotoxin testing – These tests can identify biotoxins in our blood created by mold and a Human Leukocyte Antigen (HLA).   genetic tests show an estimated 25 percent of the Earth’s population have a genetic variation that makes their immune system unable to identify and rid the human body of biotoxins, which are found in mold and alcohol.

CPTSD: (Complex or childhood post-traumatic stress disorder) is considered a brain disorder and stems from long-term ongoing childhood trauma and/or domestic abuse. Both PTSD and CPTSD require professional treatments. Due to its complex nature, CPTSD therapy might be more intense, frequent, and extensive than PTSD treatment.

Additional Labels:

MTHFR Genetic mutation; radiation exposure while in utero japan 1949;  and, ten times the normal human level of bomb dust perhaps due to living near Hiroshima and Nagasaki followed by moving to reside in Germany as a little girl. (These each show up in current MRIs.)

 

Perspective presented by LOUISE Clark:

While watching Fawn perform with her lap harp)~

On a Sunday in June 2021 at Faith Presbyterian Church located in a small village in north-central Florida, I perform while the congregation and Louise listen. Louise senses the presence of Father (Papa) standing behind me smiling. Then she sees a woman with her arms folded. Perhaps she is my mother. Another woman appears to be my beloved professor from my doctoral studies at the University of Florida. She is peeking out from a side curtain, smiling.  One final presence is my dear brother Du who I adored. (He has passed away as a military casualty 50 years after being exposed to Agent Orange and Malaria during the Viet Nam War.) My heart breaks missing him each day. 

These images are dear to me.

I stand dearly grateful to Louise for sharing them.

 

PHOTOGRAPHY & WRITING BY FAWNRISING©2021

April 7, 2021

Le Lac du mon Père

Crystal Lake Florida U.S.A. Earth