anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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Grit and Moss

 

    At this moment, all that exists in my sights are the darkness of the night sky through the window, the golden light of a candle glimmering in my periphery and the glow of this computer screen.  Of late, I have read many stories by writers about their influences and writers whom they adore. The most compelling stories depict how the main inspiration was the author’s own life, their own experiences and hardships were their teachers and the stories told themselves, their fingers were merely a medium.

    Songs seem to come to me this way.  Ideas for paintings, projects, special studies… they all jump into my mind and slam the “Go” button, yet, it wasn’t my choice to press it.  Once, I was asked to write my autobiography on one page. That was horribly prohibitive. It takes a half-hour just to get started when telling about my life.  Perhaps I am simply detail-oriented or lack conciseness. I see everything as bleeding into everything else, just like a watercolor painting which starts with too much water.  Except, in life, those bleeding tales need no judgment, at this point, of too much or too little liquid. Those tales exist only in the memories of my body and when I think back to them or something reminds me of them; I can only experience them in the moment or in a dream.  At times, I become overwhelmed with the sound of my heart beating and shortness of breath. Other times, the need to sleep or eat suddenly tips me over and makes me weak in the knees. In more extreme cases, fear fills every pore, unexplainable in the present moment as to why and I find myself floating above, as an outsider looking in, disassociating.  Somehow, I can become a shadow when the worst moments resurface. I get lost in the replay and the mountainous weight of knowing there is nothing I can do to change the stories. In those dark and tremendous moments, there are veins reaching into the future, into the people I love, into the choices I make, into the way I look in the mirror, into the way strangers look at me…  All this is happening under the guise of a smiling, confident, albeit sometimes distracted, woman.

    Imagine what it would be like if those moments disappeared.  What would happen if those shocking and depressing moments no longer plagued those of us who share them?  There could be a light, a blinding light, swirling out of my forehead. I see light emanating from my fingertips and from each strand of hair.  There is no memory in my body, from the earliest of early storage drawers of visions, that does not have a tinge of sadness. I cannot remember ever feeling completely light, free, and without judgment.  Fear permeates every facet of life. I could be beaten for not finishing my dinner or having an accident potty training. I could be abused or taunted by any man who walked by. I could be ridiculed for being imperfect by any movement, decision, performance or by simply existing.  Simultaneously, I was treasured and praised when I was approvable. In public, I was the gem of the show. I was “the rock”. The undeterminable atmosphere of our home, the lack of comfort, the affectation of normalcy, the quid-pro-quo nurturing, the unending sarcasm, perversion, and the predatorial context into which my sister and I were forced to exist has created, in me, a person who needs to come to terms with the impact such a life has had on my body.  The lives and bodies of millions of people in this world are all carrying scars on their beating hearts from childhood. They learned about their lack of importance, their prescribed stupidity and their lack of control so early, the notion that such things don’t HAVE to hold them down may never be realized in their lives. They may never individuate.

    I have the privilege of a new awareness of how my body, heart, and mind are all interconnected and I proclaim that the marks carved into my being are going to be brought to light.  Immunity to sickness and dedication to health are the core of my focus now. The amount of time it will take to begin to feel whole and happy again may be lengthy. Yet, I am here.  I am learning. My body is going to heal. I have magnets in my heart and the celestial bodies and our beautiful, magical planet are connected by those same forces.

I am filled with grit. I am the softest green moss of the forest floor.

In some corner of my mind, I have yet to unearth, there is the North star of hope.

I am seeking Spirit by this river’s shore and in my inner flame’s ashes and smoke.

long exposure of photography of brown tree

Photo by Harrison Haines on Pexels.com

 


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TuesDay NewsDay Vol. 3, Issue 1 – January 14th, 2020

The room is filled with restaurant sounds; the cutlery is clicking on plates and bowls. Autumn Leaves is coming from the trombone, piano, upright bass and drums. How lovely.

Dedication: Today is dedicated not to a person, but to the priceless concept of forgiveness. Without it, we remain cold and buried in our own asses. With it, we become softer and compassionate toward and acknowledging of others’ simultaneous struggles in this world. Thank you forgiveness. Thank you to those of us who forgive easily. Thank you to those of us who know we need to work on it. …and bless you to those of us who struggle with forgiveness.

Quote: “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” Mark Twain

Song: This song reminds me of riding in the backseat of my grandparents’ car on one of our thousands of Sunday drives, as we meandered in and around rural North Carolina, listening to classic country music, the “Country Gold” cassette tape set.

I Love by Tom T. Hall

Dear Humans:

It has been a few weeks since an official newsletter and if you watch my weekly video series, you can find out why. So much has happened since the end of 2019! It was a roller-coaster of a year! As I was answering a journal prompt about last year during my morning writing, it became clear that 2019 was packed with physical, emotional, intellectual challenges and feats. I had major ankle surgery and was laid up in bed for 12 weeks. My new job teaching started in January last year, the whole year of creating curriculum and learning how to teach adults in real life was demanding and in all honesty, I didn’t enjoy it. (Thankfully this year, I feel a bit different and am excited about the prospect of continuing. That surprised me.) Many things were left behind: some relationships, my lack of boundaries and fear of others’ judgments. Surely, the latter two of the three aforementioned castaways will crop up from time to time in cyclical lessons, yes. However, each time growth will emerge and lessons will help to create a better human up in here. We learned why my digestive system was torn apart for years (of course stress will hurt anyone’s stomach) – I’m allergic to beef and beef products, gluten and other hooved animals! We also learned that I have an insane amount of allergies! WTF?! Glad to know more about myself now, so I can take care. I plan to heal and end the allergies and grow back the cartilage which was damaged in my ankle surgery; I know these things can be done.

A part of my childhood was left behind as well. The child within who operated out of fear and scarcity has become known to me. I have a serious desire to feel security and my motivations in attempt to obtain that security were unmasked. I no longer feel the need to look to others (my grandparents specifically) to provide the shelter and protection, something I desperately once needed and am eternally grateful. Adios 2019! Enter stage left and right the new decade with a new abode, new music, new understandings, and new relationships (with others and with myself.).

The album is trudging along. It is a struggle to make time when I am working two jobs. Rest assured, it will be finished sometime soon! I was thinking by the end of January… but I truly don’t know right now. Still aiming for late June for the party. If it happens, wonderful. If it doesn’t, that’ll be fine too.

happy new year y’all, may you find peace and for those under fire, you are in my prayers

Upcoming Shows: Sunday, High Point 2pm-5pm https://facebook.com/events/s/eliqqn-ii-portraits-of-gavin-g/2306691406283389/?ti=icl

Next week, Friday, January 24th – I’ll be playing with Tim Smith at Special Treats on Weaver Dairy Rd in Carrboro! 6-10pm! Come out and get some candy! Ear candy too!

Lately in pictures:


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Candlelight on a Friday Night

Everyone’s trying to find themselves these days;

seems like the topic of the decade.

Lovers masked behind the text on a screen,

alcohol masking all emotions to be seen.

Our game of tug-of-war between our projections and our shadows,

we stand, stunned in silent stillness, wondering how deep the wound goes.

We’ve forgotten the non-electric world,

between fingers, between addictions, distractions….the absurd.

I’m always on the verge of falling in love… and a desire to be safely furled.

My fear of intimacy may actually be unknowing – can I learn?

Who can teach me?  How do attraction and true love work?

I sit here by candlelight on a cold and dreamy Friday,

wondering if my body’s wasting away.

All the while, imagine the line outside,

hanging my drying lingerie.

 

 


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Coming in from the cold

10423654_10101519858563348_4963391871808647311_nWatching a cat roll around in catnip is extremely enjoyable. There, now that that’s out I can start this post and get out what’s been trying to exit from me.  I enjoyed watching the late night showing of the Hobbit last night.  A dear friend from Saxapahaw, NC came to visit me up here in Beech Mountain for the first time and all because we’d vowed to one another that we would watch the Hobbit together before it left the theaters.  We made good on our promise.  The journey to Johnson City, Tennessee was about an hour-long and dear Peter joined us thankfully he was able to leave work before midnight.  The three of us trekked into the windy roads of Highway 19 in the dark and made it home safely with all of our precious cargo.

This morning, I had intended to sleep in, yet that was not accomplished.  I only slept until about 8:45 and have been awake from then on.  I made breakfast for my friend and we watched Saturday morning cartoons and drank a few mimosas before he had to head back down the mountain.  The quiet snow is falling outside and it made my friend feel some trepidation, yet he ended up getting out just fine and took me to the mercantile so that I might consume some vittles for lunch before heading out for a walk back home in the 25 degree, powdery weather.  Saying goodbye to my friend, I was sad to see him go.  His visit was short but hopefully next time around we’ll have more time to explore the mountain.

The point of this post is to say that I went for my hike today and came across two very beautiful, medium-sized dogs.  At first, I was startled, they were not on leashes, but I put out my hand and stopped my advancing toward them and let them come to me.  Proper dog manners.  They were at first sniffers and seemingly nervous, but in a moment’s time they were snarfing and leaning and wagging all over.  One was dark curly brown and the other had big spots and was gorgeous and sort of striped, but big stripes of grey and brown with white mainly.  I look up to see the owner and it was someone I know.  After talking to this person briefly and ending the conversation with, “There is always something to be grateful for, have a beautiful afternoon.”  I walked away and turned my thoughts inward.

I must say the rest of the walk calmed me.  I took several photos of the stunning winter scenery and was sure to take each step slowly and contemplatively. The pristine path had not been trodden since the snow had fallen, except for deer and bird tracks.  I even saw the remnants of a woodpeckers work on my favorite Boo Radley tree.  There were fresh wood chips all around the back side of that old, dead tree, and on the other side, the gaping hole I could fit in if desired.  I will put gifts in there, if to no one else then to the tree himself.

I just remembered that while I was eating lunch I was reading a magazine about survival in the Smokies during the winter.  “Will” was the word the editor used in her column.  The will to create things, to live, and to do what your “will be done”.  I am convinced right now that I have the will to get several things accomplished today that I neglected this week and WILL be prepared on Monday to be as badass as I can be, even with a few hours of guitar and Spanish practice to boot.  I just made a fresh batch of kombucha and will be enjoying my freshly bottled elderberry ginger kombucha tomorrow when it is fully carbonated and ready to consume.

All that said, this story has several points:

1. Walking can help to clear the head.  2. I’m emotional today and can feel the pull of the Moon coming back.  3. I started writing a new song for the first time in a very long time just a few days ago and I am now taking guitar lessons.  The badassery to follow has been a long time coming. and 4. It is as if today I have learned something new.  Let’s not forget it now Anita.  This may come in handy in the future.  “Be not half-assed.”