Mary Jane's Shoes

Mary Jane's Shoes

Musings of one person among many. Not exceptional in any way, as with all, I have exceptional experiences and varied reactions to those events. Mine is one of many life stories and how I manage and cope with the events which make my life my own, I attempt to put forth by way of my writings.

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If Numb

March 11, 2016

If Numb~

if you see the flames, 

  but do not feel the warmth

if you see the smile, 

  yet do not feel the laugh

if you know the punch, 

  but do not feel its pain

If numbness is left,

  from stiffening frostbite

~

move inside,

  deep inside the home where winter snows 

live beyond windows

and fire burns in the belly, 

and in the hearth

~

notice, and dissect, and linger
you will learn again of keenness and sensibility

~

~ mary jane goodman

Too Much

February 26, 2016

~Is it possible to feel too much? 

~

Like others deemed too emotional, I do a fairly decent job at feeling and revealing my emotions in response to circumstances life delivers. I do not hide them nor do I tuck them away, in general. There may be a few instances where I find it important to close shop. I may retreat to my home, my room. With this does come a guilt of my dishonesty, rather sin of omission. I don’t mean this in an arrogant way. 

~

Some may see this expression as a lack of strength. Maybe it is in a few specific circles. Sometimes it seems a curse. I do fall apart. Then I occasionally find a strength I didn’t know I possessed, though I do not see myself as a steel magnolia. There have been several points in time where I wanted the ground to open beneath my feet and cover me whole with soil, never to feel fear and pain again. If I were to be this southern flower, it would surely take me a long time to reinforce my inner strength, to find my steel interior. In and with some situations the fear never leaves and it whispers in my ear daily. 

~

When I wrote previously, a decent job, those perhaps were the wrong words to choose. Feeling is not a choice. The resulting reaction of expressing said feeling and how to do so is often a choice. I wouldn’t say they always are. It may simply be that this heart and soul lives in the extreme. It just is. It is in my DNA and possibly yours, the known-to-some-as-dramatic reaction to life. Releasing emotions is healthy and necessary to communicate. Each of us does to varying degrees. To shut down and hide leaves you and the would be receiver lost. The emotion aches in you; there is a burn. Confusion is the receiver’s gift. 

~

Do I feel too much? I do not see how one can unless there exists a mental illness twisting the feel and release of emotions. For myself and possibly you, I see this personality trait at times a heavy load, but overall a gift. I feel deeply always. It can be exhausting and at the same time exhilarating. If I become drained, which I do allow myself to become, I know I have seen the emotion through fully. I can move forward in a way refreshed. I couldn’t have lived more than to feel it all and deeply. To some I laugh too often and too hard, but to do so is one of the more pleasurable feelings of which we are capable. Why not feel and express something this wondrous fully? I cry, hard and completely. I get spitting angry and cuss. I feel such a release when I do so. I know some believe cursing is indicative of a lack of vocabulary, but to me it carries the same fullness of life as does slamming a door, or a belly laugh, or tears at beautiful music.

~

While cradling my babies I felt more of this earth, more human than I thought possible and I never felt more warm love. Caring for another is, I believe, the way we are to live. Life cannot be lived fully alone. Overwhelming feelings of nurturing and protecting create connections that support us as the human race. That type of love, that for our children, for others, is primal. Emotions and their depth make us human. 

~

Being human is feeling all the emotions afforded us, and to experience them is to experience the entire spectrum of our personal humanity. It is to share our common nature. It is to sincerely live amongst and with each other. I believe I have answered my initial question and the answer is no. 

~

Mary Jane Goodman 2016 February

Imperfectly Perfect Chaos in Our Home, I’ll Take It Thank You

February 22, 2016

~

Full weekends with family are chaotic love. 

~

A barely there in time arrival at a political rally on a Friday night with two children, one of voting age, one not, meets an early morning out of town tennis trip to watch a third play with the heart and soul only he and his tennis brother possess. 

~

I am their mom and I am allowed to give such praise. 

~

I am smiling. 
~

The two rally witnesses bike a trail with their father after one rally witness wakes early and bakes bread, an every other day treat here. I do wish he’d as well wash the bakeware. 
~

A fourth leaves his college apartment to visit the crew of Giddenses and share his wit; his winter hat is seemingly permanently affixed to his head. His sister’s kidney is functioning beautifully inside its new home within him. 
~

During this stretch of 20 hours, multiple phone calls and a greater number of texts have traveled invisibly through the various grades of atmosphere, some of which are anxiety producing. Such is life with six offspring and two grands. 
~

Again I turn a smile. 
~

Posted photos from a fifth and sixth, who now care for their own new families, complete the weekend picture, for now. 
~

As I sit in my pajamas, draped with a blanket I have tucked beneath my toes, in our yellow family room, Kenya the Ragdoll feline licks her paws and I watch our boys play Guitar Hero as the darkness overtakes the sun coming through the window. By the way, to me it looks as though they are killing this musical instrument game. 
~

The dogs add their voices because what is more fun for a dog to do aside from chasing a cat?
~

By the way, we, in total, visited the market five times, the pharmacy once, and cleaned a couple of dog accidents; one of us slipped in a parking lot of gravel and has the cuts on her knees to prove it. 
~

I keep a smile, and still tomorrow is to come and is only tonight away. More goodness and chaos promises to enter our home through the windows with the sun. 
~

~ Mary Jane Goodman

February 17, 2016

  

February 17, 2016

  

Wrongdoing, Pleasure, and Guilt

February 7, 2016

Wrongdoing, Pleasure, and Guilt ~ MJ Goodman

~

I get painfully angry, deep breathing, heart racing, fist clenched, face flushed angry. 
~

I need to release the anger, or more accurately, expose my hurt and frustration to the perpetrator of the pain. Often I yell. I will slam a door. I will throw my face into faded, worn sheets, scream, and cry. 
~

I have now begun an odd ritual that is a release of sorts. Initially it happened without my planning. Since and now, I take my anger and release it in this manner that isn’t good for anything except it brings a creepy sense of satisfaction that I too can do wrong, as I feel I have been wronged. I attempt a feeble crime to balance myself. What I do may not seem like much to many; it may as well seem silly to the same. 
~

Here you go. I do not recycle at my moment of anger or frustration. Your laugh is now not unexpected. I laugh as well at my nonsensical release, though not in the midst of the action. To take that tin soup can, the box that held linguini, the foil that held roasted zucchini, and aggressively throw it in the REGULAR garbage is for me a naughty venting. I do get an evil pleasure in acting upon this decision. I am being bad; why does that feel good? Talk amongst yourselves. 
~

Following this is guilt. We are avid recyclers. When I break down an empty box formerly full of rice and place it in regular garbage, I am hurting something, our earth. I am wasting resources that did nothing to me. (Another eye roll may ensue. I understand and do the same.) This may seem preposterous to many. I cannot help that this is the reaction to my indiscretion. 
~

At any rate, and to be quite frank, I do enjoy the moments of wrongdoing. It is my earthy wild child that isn’t always good. Rigid and straight laced is not always the best road to travel, at least for my mental state. And, I know I could do much worse. 
~

Regardless of my vent, please reduce, reuse, recycle. 
~ Mary Jane Goodman-Giddens

A Bracelet

January 13, 2016

~

~

Between the perfume bottle

and the bracelet resting on my dresser,

there is a story

of how I fell in love with you. 

~

Between the camera and the books, 

a stack of three,

there is a story of how you fell in love with me. 

Slipping on the bracelet, one of silver and engraved, 

my eyes read the title of one book.

Never Take For Granted Love, on the cover it did say.

On my wrist the scent I placed. 

Its aroma told of a moment when your arms they lifted me

and we spun circles on brick space.

Reflected in glass double doors,

this was a true love story’s start.

To have the moment photographed, I could visit it once more. 

~

On the silver band around my wrist,

my only love had inscribed,

“Never take for granted love.”

Nostalgic tears did fall, from my hazel eyes.

~

~

 

How Long

December 1, 2015

~

I will love you until streams run dry, until immersed are desert sands. ~ mary jane goodman

~

~

Come On In

November 15, 2015

~
~

Come on in.

Come on in.

I’ve got a story to tell.

Come on in.

Come on in, 

and sit a spell.

~

My mama put her hand on my shoulder 

said, Honey you have grown bolder.

That’s all well and good,

but please don’t expect your life to be like polished wood.”

~

Come on in.

Come on in.

I’ve got a story to tell.

Come on in.

Come on in,

and sit a spell.

~

Splinters come and give piercing pain. 

Daddy said, ” They themselves are not to blame.

Life gives us good reason

to appreciate all seasons,

those dark and cold, 

those with deeper souls.”

~

Come on in.

Come on in.

I’ve got a story to tell.

Come on in.

Come on in,

and sit a spell.

~

“When you were three,

living nearly took the best of me.

I closed the door to my room and on my pillow cried,

the most potent tears that ever left my eyes.”
~

“The tears left in my heart an empty space. 
I then thought of the love you gave. 

The pictures on the refrigerator door,

you were showing off the costume you wore. 

Warmness filled the empty space in my heart 

and I realized hurt in life is an important part.”

~

Come on in.

Come on in.

I’ve got a story to tell.

Come on in.

Come on in,

and sit a spell.

mary jane goodman

2015 November

While the Fire Burns

November 13, 2015

While the fire burns,

I will allow myself to learn

the rituals you keep.

~

On which side of bed do you sleep?

Do you flip your pillow often through the night,

to feel the cool cotton of the other side?

~

Do you pull on both socks before your shoes?

Or do you dress one foot at a time, 

before into the car you climb?

~

While the fire burns,

I will allow myself to learn

the rituals you keep.

~

Is it your desire to run,

while the morning sky is full of sun?

If not, is it your preference, 

to move in late afternoon air heaviness?

~

Does darkness fill the days with gloom?

Do you see life one with little room,

or are your days those of light, of space, and of grateful play. 

~

While the fire burns,

I will allow myself to learn

the rituals you keep.

~

Between the flicker of the flame

and the gray, smoldering ashes,

I learned to see in a picture frame

seemingly small moments as grand flashes. 

~

I see and feel your favorite coffee mug,

in my hand the curve of its white handle. 

In melded shadow we exist from a single candle.

~

On the stained wood mantle, in its spot it sits, 

next to the fan, yet not blown out it emits

what will be a memory. 

It will own a picture frame,

a grand small moment

in between ashes and flickering flame,

~

while the fire burns.

~

~ mary jane goodman

2015 November

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