MMMMMM, A Myraid of Musings from a Mecurical, Messy , Magic Matriarch Life

 I struggle with the Schmooze and Booze culture of corporate leadership . I know you were expecting motherhood, but that struggle takes a lot and I am not ready to go there.  So back to schmooze and booze.   I daily live in and direct work in victim advocacy, behavioral health crisis, detox and recovery. This includes domestic violence, child abuse and neglect, sex assault, homicide, suicide, DUIs, overdoses, mental health olds and human trafficking. I delve and report findings  in research and statistics, that discuss the population health concerns, public health crises and individual trauma and destruction from our cultural norms and  accepted social practices. I am expected to advocate for change, lead programs and awareness, protect children and youth from these harms.  Except when it is time to network, team build, "retreat", raise funds, celebrate, close the deal. Do these events take place in some paradoxical universe? Some plane of ...

  I recently have been provided the opportunity to read several books and articles for Leadership Classes and Courses. Everyone seems to list the 7 Strengths, 7 Factors , 7 Attributes, 7 Hacks of Leadership. While all of that is great, the problem doesn't always lie within. By taking a quick gander at most top think tanks/leadership/companies we can see that there lies a large possibility there will be barriers some face significantly more than others, and that the idea of doing it your own way, is still a few designated paths. Each with the end being the agreed upon measure of success. As such none of them truly resonated with me, it is all the same regurgitation, they hold some value but still I have other struggles, ones that seem to form obstacles not always within my power to change and yet I am still held to them, even when we know and are validated by research that such paths are inherently built to reward a certain few. After much pondering and a due assignment or two I giv...

This is a safe space, she said. You can let it out here. We are not marginalized here. This is community I looked into all the shades of Mother earth's fertile soil eyes staring back at me. I felt a since of belonging, no brown eyes have ever been in my safe space Even amongst my family, I was the sole owner of whiskey swirled chocolate Each woman spoke, space was held, words and validation shared Once my turn to share came round I hesitated for a moment, how safe I closed my eyes, and exhaled "I hate the word squaw from a man's lips. I hate seeing it in print beneath a women's body. It is violating"  The hesitation in my mind , was gone from my lips.   There was silence "I have never heard that word, as derogatory slang before." she passed on to the next woman.  I exited the room, lucky there was no awkward scraping of chairs or fumbled gathering of effects I simply clicked a red X My teeth hitting my lip, seemed the cue my lungs needed to clinch. My ey...

,  Slightest of breeze  Dappled summer  Lilacs in bloom,  Their scent carried softly along with delighted giggles of children, Only  interrupted by popsicle licks and waves of goodbye. Windows rolled down His wink as town flies by  Warmth of the dash under my toes  The gasp of delight when bra hits the floorboards a loving farewell Instant tightening of nipple as the rush of air a warmest of welcome  A soul song on a back road blares through the air The pent up release of breath, too long held,  The lengthening of neck, the roll of the head,  The wildness of hair, the deep exhale Miles and mountains roll on Sunset halo softens our edges  Campfire glow the last image of night for me   The tender roll of my shoulders and twist of my hips, All wrinkles, dimples,and smiles  Unsheltered from the dawn,  Caressed by the yawning rise across misty pines Salty tang of his skin on my tongue where his shoulder meets che...

  I inherited 4000 years of matriarchs running through my veins    12 generations of women: carrying loads not their own, cloaking tradition in the acceptance of religion, quiet labors, secret rituals, dimmed lights, nervous laughs, waved hands, solo travels, held breath and stolen glances, stigma, a life never exhaled.  Given labels and names palatable to the weak, harmless to lustful and greedy: Mid wife, mother, community organizer, green thumb, good preacher’s wife, caretaker, foster mom, hippie, granola, mountain woman, throw back, freak, rebel,whore, odd duck, church chairwoman, Relief Society President, prepper type, visiting teacher, educator, soldier, life coach, doula, one of those women Anything but what we are: Witch, Warrior, medicine woman, Owl Woman, Shadow Walker, Clan Mother, Matriarch, Healer I inherited ancestral wisdom and shame, generational trauma that our women uniquely bear. Unspoken rules. Grit, strength, pain, confusion, lonely paths, rocky ...

  How many generations does a red light shine before permanence ?  Does the scarlet letter become a birthmark for her daughter?    How long before I cast a crimson glow?   Squaw, whore, trailer trash, red-light queen, going to be just like her mothers. Epitaphs of a life not even lived.Their words fall like embers and ash on snow. I understand the sizzle and heat , but puzzle at the source of fire, tis naught I tending these flames.   Their pointed stares, the shift of their hips, hands juggling in their pockets, stroking their manhood, rubbing their egos, licking their lips   My questions have answers.  One or eight,  it wouldn't matter I am the daughter of a branded town slut, granddaughter of a whores, descended from a mistress and slave. The stain runs as red as my blood, our stigma, our birthright. No matter how many prayers and murmured verses find us on our knees, once again in supplication to a man, it doesn't wash off....