My Own Kind of Pride Celebration – Juneteenth 2018

Though this year has been challenging in many ways, it has also been good. I’m having my own kind of pride celebration now. I’ve been blessed to have accomplished a lot of my life goals. After finishing my third book, I have been thinking about the next creative project. Do I start on book two of the series? Do I do the audiobooks I wanted to do? Or music? Music keeps playing into my heart and mind, perhaps it’s time for music to be created. But what about painting? Am I giving up on painting?

Bread & Wine – Watercolor

The truth I realized is that I paint when I am happy and content. Maybe that’s why people liked my paintings, they came from feeling loved and happy. It’s not that I am unhappy here on Beech Mountain, but I am still unsettled. Having lived here for almost a year, it is beginning to feel like home. I can’t say I am content, though I love the solitude.

One of the challenges I face as my art grows is how to balance the sacred and what some would call the profane of my life. I am a lesbian who is also Christian. For me, the lesbian part is as sacred as the church connected part. I have always been a religious person and I knew at an early age I was different. I didn’t know the word “lesbian” until I was older.

Once I learned the word, I can’t say I was proud of being one. Every time it was spoken during that time, it was in a condemning way or a way that sounded dirty. I wasn’t dirty or mean, just afraid. It’s only after decades of practicing saying that, “I am a lesbian” that I can say it without feeling my heart in my throat.

 

In today’s climate of hatred, I am cautious again. After being in a town where I was free to be who I am, I’ve felt I had to be more careful here. I didn’t know anyone on the mountain and for the longest time thought I had to be the only lesbian on the mountain. I’ve learned that I’m not, but like me, those who live here tend to keep to themselves. I’m okay with that. There is still comfort in knowing that there is someone who gets me on the mountain even if we aren’t close.

Passion Flower – Watercolor

Today I decided that I wanted to write about being proud of being a lesbian. It’s taken years of prayer and good counseling to get to the place where I can be proud of who I am instead of afraid of who I am. My goal in life has always been to serve G_d and one day to find the right person for me. After my recent divorce, I may have to accept that there is not a person for me. I am okay with that for the most part. We all have our moments. But back to my topic of being proud.

Growing up, we were discouraged from being proud in a braggart way. I’m glad of that. There was, however, a pride that was a family way of being. We were hard workers. We were smart and quick learners. None of us were (or are) perfect, but all of us are good, decent people. Just because I am a lesbian doesn’t make me any less of a good, decent, person.

 

People have accused me of things I’ve never even thought about doing. I will state again that I am of a religious mindset. Most of my thoughts are theological or musical when I’m not worried about hurting someone’s feelings. As I age, and my activities are limited due to health challenges, my thoughts turn to quality. I want to be better at writing, playing music, drawing or painting, living. I want to be good at living. This is something I can be proud of and exclaim to the world.



I am celebrating Pride Month in my own quiet way. I can’t get to the parades. My heart and mind are focused on what is happening in our political landscape for the immigrants right now. I want to find ways that I can encourage those who are still able to physically get involved and encourage the rest of us to keep heart.

 

A little bit of light will go a long way. Be proud of your light whoever you are, whatever color your light casts. You matter. I matter too. The more we embrace the goodness of each being, the better our world becomes. I hope you take time to listen to the Victor Wooten song below. His song is full of the good news of life and I believe it speaks my truth. I see God in you. I see God in me.

 

 

Content Protection by DMCA.com

Random Thoughts on a February Morning

Tree at Beech Moutain’s Bark Park

Random Thoughts 2/2/2018

Just because a person misspeaks once, doesn’t mean the person is all-bad or all-wrong. As humans, we are prone to error. What makes us think another is in the wrong because of a mistake? What makes us think we are totally in the right because the mistake is obvious to us?

 

As I was washing dishes this morning, I rinsed out the small tub I use in my kitchen sink. There’s no dishwasher here but me. When I was drying it off, its white plastic not one I would choose, I thought of my Grandma Whitley. She always had a white plastic container she would put in her old porcelain sink to wash dishes. When the huge Whitley family gathered for meals, I always volunteered to do dishes. It’s something I never minded. It was also a way I could be around the women of my Southern family in a way that didn’t make me so nervous. I could listen and look out the window. They could talk.

We think we humans know how to love. It seems we only know how to create illusions of love. Then, when life gets tough, we take a pin to pop the bubble or the balloon of the illusion and think love is over when in fact, it may only have just begun.

___________________________________

Sometimes the audio picked up the sound of Birdie swallowing or making a sound in her sleep. The sound is NOT my stomach growling. LOL

 

“The soul often speaks through longing.” ~Sue Monk Kidd

Content Protection by DMCA.com

Snow Kisses

Content Protection by DMCA.com

A New Year of Creativity – 2018

 

© 2017 Skyview by JRobin Whitley

Creativity is my passion. At the writing of this blog, my life dreams are coming true with three published books, a CD, and more creative projects becoming manifest. Each year of my life has been filled with poetry, reflection, music, meditation, and all of the good that life has to offer. This new year promises more of this goodness.

January 1 started out with guitar work. Then I found a song I had started writing posted on one of my recorders. Got some great photos of the snow that happened on New Years Eve. The wind wasn’t blowing that night so I didn’t exactly “ring in the new year” but it’s coming into my life with promise and hope.

Chimes

This will be my first year without my partner and wife of 12 years. In many ways, it saddens me. I’ve always believed in true love and feel that she was my one. We can’t change situations or other people though. We can only change our attitudes and viewpoints. That being said, my disabilities have shown me how precious and fleeting life is. We mustn’t waste one minute for wishing for the past.

One of the things I’ve learned since my dad died, is that in looking at the past, when love has happened, love remains. All the bad of the past fades in the light of love that shines on. Love lasts when nothing else does.

One of the hardest challenges for many people however is learning to love the self. This is not in the manner of narcissisim, which is an entirely selfish and self-serving love. To love oneself means to live the life that makes you glad to be alive. Be the person you want to wake up beside of in the morning, because no matter what, the one person who is always there is you. Allow yourself to be okay with who you are.

 

“Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life.”
~Golda Meir

Content Protection by DMCA.com

December Night

It is another cold December night, silent as it flies by. The dog is sleeping soundly in the bed, growling at something in her dreams. The snow still blankets the forest with soft curves over the land. The clock above me ticks. I always love the sound of a tick-tock. There’s no sleep for me tonight. I think it’s because I’ve slept all week trying to get over a cold and keep it out of my chest. Though, it could be the cup of coffee I drank at ten thirty.

Trying to sleep and thinking about that cup of coffee, I miss those times when I could drink coffee late into the night. Of course, there were term papers to write and I had to stay up. My insomnia never seemed to help me out on those late nights. Tonight wakefulness occurs due to something other than insomnia. It may be the caffeine, but it might also be this beautiful night calling to me. I have no good pictures of the snowy night, only the bright white days.

The last walk with the dog was peaceful. The snow on the path has softened from being solid ice. Birdie just looked for deer. While she looked at the houses below and the woods between them, I looked at the snow. The trees made shadows. Debris from the trees made patterns in the snow. All was silent except for a saw of some sort coming from my new neighbor’s house. The light on the garage was still on. They are preparing the house for their coming marriage. I try to think of something to give as a welcome to the neighborhood or a wedding gift. I don’t know them yet though. Gift giving seems not to be my forte anyway.

Trying to go to sleep earlier, my mind raced about the holidays. I thought of the days past and how little money I’ve had for gifts in my lifetime. Though, I always put as much heart and thought into a gift as possible. I don’t miss the stress of shopping or trying to find the perfect gift. I was never a shopper, though at one time I enjoyed Christmas shopping. I still wasn’t very good at it even then. Some people have a knack of knowing just what a person needs or wants. Gift giving has lost its appeal for me. What I want to give is not as tangible as a present. It is about presence however.

Presence that gives of the heart, mind, and soul imbues me with a desire to reciprocate.  That powerful presence can be given in something as simple as a sincere smile. Kindness goes a long way in these times when everyone seems to be fighting or accusing. Sitting with a grieving friend is priceless. I’ve had friends care for me as I grieve, and there are no words to convey the power of that understanding.

Drinking the last bit of coffee, a community of witnesses, friends, family surrounds me. Those who have died did not abandon me for I carry them in my heart. The last time I saw my dad well was near Christmas. He wanted one last Christmas with his family. Yet, his love is ever with us. The magic of grandparents’ homes still warms my heart. Carols connect me with my cousins and remind us all of singing around the piano in wonderful harmony.

The dog has awakened and sat behind me; her black eyes staring at my back. She wants me to return to bed. Now I hear her hesitant jump as she tries to get back on the bed. She sleeps close to my leg and lets me know if anything sounds during the night. She watches over me. Somehow, I know my loved ones watch over me too. May you have angels watch over you on this beautiful December night and lead you into glorious day.

Content Protection by DMCA.com