Wild Mountain Rose…#136

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Wild Mountain Rose…

There is a legend up on Mossy Ridge that children hear while listening to the old folk weaves their tales around their supper table at night –

About…

Two gentle spirits walking the rutty
Mountain roads under the mystical Tennessee moonlight.

These stories begin many years ago about
An old Cherokee and a little girl
He called his Wild Mountain Rose –

Folks …

First saw her drinking from a cool mountain
Stream all legs and dirty yellow hair abandoned
By her family so the stories go, but no one is
Sure, of that if the truth is told.

The first time the old Cherokee saw her she was
Sleeping under a bush folks call the Mountain Rose –

Afterwards…

She was with him no matter where he would go.
Folks would say that without old Willie Youngblood
She would not have survived –

Willie…

Knew that without her he himself would have died,
The years went by quickly and they both grew old,
Time had touched their hair with gray –

They…

Could only dream about their younger days.
One cool spring morning Willie woke to find her gone
From his side, he sat for hours head hung low as he
Cried –

Later…

He found her lying peaceful she had died there on a
Soft bed of leaves a mournful death chant was the only
Way the old Cherokee knew how to grieve.

Now if you know where to look it is in the Tennessee
Mountains where Willie Youngblood’s Wild Mountain
Rose can be found –

Beneath…

The damp rotting forest floor in a shallow grave up on
Mossy Ridge near the entrance of Chicopee Cave.
The following winter Old Willie died and they buried
Him next to his Wild Mountain Rose –

Folks…

Say in the moonlight two ghostly spirits can be seen
Sitting on the banks of Chestnut Creek or floating along
The rutty mountain roads.

When the sun comes up, they disappear…

Or so the legend goes, but everyone on Mossy Ridge
Knows that it is Old Willie and that golden haired pup
He found those many years ago…

Wild Mountain Rose.
©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 
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Crimson Fields…#135

 

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Crimson Fields…

In a fields of red poppies caressed by a summer

breeze –

Surrendering to twilight.

A union created by Mother Nature is quickly

Blending dark and daylight.

Among the crimson meadow of blossoms

stands an old man watching the sun as it’s

golden orb begins to

Hide behind a tawny sea.

Art brushes, paints and canvas in hand he follows

a narrow trail to his boat anchored at water’s edge,

his story now woven in color about life, as he believed

It should be –

Peaceful

Contented

Free.

 

 

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Epoch of Living…#134

 

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Epoch of Living…
In this age with the elderly outnumbering the rest of society, I have been privilege to be a part of some living and passing. It is the days before their glorious ascension that I write about today. I live in an Independent complex for “seniors”; the transference was not an easy one, but the simplicity of living outweighed all other situations. Why do I write about this subject? The decline of the human body and sometimes the Spirit and Soul. I have surveyed many and followed their decline and fight to live a productive and peaceful life. The subject matter of this post is my own personal opinion.

The healthy hearty individuals who chose to give up their homes for a more simple life, less house and yard work arrive with smiles. They have underground parking and no longer have to fight the winter weather, snow and ice. They have activities if they wish to participate, everything from cards, bingo, community choirs and gatherings to potlucks and holiday meals and cook outs.

In the beginning they are many times met in these “get-to-gathers” by the few with more boisterous personalities, i.e., they want to run the show and those attending. I do not attend these gatherings, as I have always been an advocate for the elderly…then became one. By the time we get to these types of living situations many have lost the fight that we possessed in younger days, we allow the few to control the masses. These are individual choices and I in no way want to judge why some lets others control them. Of course, there is also living in the complex those few like myself who choose to walk to our own drummer so to speak. Nonetheless, it is a source of irritation to me when I hear of the controlling few and how they act toward their fellow women and men.

Back to the decline, the residents arrive with enthusiasm, new cars, and settle into a less stressful lifestyle. It is the decline of the human body and mind that I get upset with the progress. Within a few years, their cars are taken from them, leaving them without transportation and at the mercy of their children or grandchildren to provide rides to doctor visits and shopping. I have observed those who did not need to give up driving, it was taken away because a child wanted the use of the vehicle. When discussing a sometimes-tragic decision tears come to their eyes, they were not ready, nor did they need to be ready. Then there are those who should have had those vehicles taken to protect the public and they had no one to make the choice for them, they are a danger to society.

The few who remain independent is not what this post is regarding, it is about those who fall into the category of being told what to do, or have relatives forget they exist. The brave few who are capable of making their own decisions and continue to live a lifestyle that should be afforded the elderly I applaud them. There are those who have loving children and are held in high regard by those children, they are well cared for and visited often.

This bring me to those who are within time visited by their children only on holidays, if even then, or those who come around to “get” what they want material, financial or otherwise. I have witnessed too many times when a family would come in Mother’s Day with a lily, and within thirty minutes, they are leaving. The same with Christmas, they arrive Christmas Eve with poinsettias and leave within a few minutes they do not want to disrupt their own lives by spending too much time with who should be their “loved” ones. It is at this stage of life that the residents of the complex transfer slowly from walking to wheelchair, walker or cane. Now, we all may get in that position during an illness, but we fight each time to return to being as active as possible. Many are happy to sit in front of their TV all day as age progresses; this brings on the final days quicker.

However, after all is said and done one cannot help getting older and go through the various stages of life to reach their final destination. Moreover, for all that I have written, I am thankful that I can remain mentally productive and continue to do what I have always dreamed of doing upon retirement, write, publish and enjoy my days with hope for a long and happy future. With that being said, it is in these living situations that we reach the end of our journeys; I wrote a short poem that started the entire premise of this post.

Angel Wings

How sweet is the foreboding, yet dying can be a beautiful sight. Even though it can be hard to bear, the thoughts are wonderful of one’s soul floating to Heaven on God’s golden air.

Family and friends gather sitting close to the hearths, angels waiting nearby; love ones questioning…why!

Death is something that is impossible to prepare, the angels try to fill the room with loving care. Love ones watch with a fallen tear…listen can you hear the angels sing. Another soul given their wings.

 

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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A World Without…# 133

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A World Without…

Of tomorrow I dream, and into the star
Filled night comes visions of truth until
The morning fills with light.

Living truth within, discovering both
Bright and darkness until the end.
The future is what it shall be, whither
Standing up or on bended knees.

I face each sunset with a hope of
The coming tomorrow, and a dream
Of a world without pain or sorrow.

 
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A Red Bird Day…#132

silhouette dog on landscape against romantic sky at sunset

Author’s note: This poem created from fact and the imagination of the child that still lives within me.

A Redbird Day…

It was a Red Bird kind of day as I carefully
walked the bramble-hedged path through
the forest that edged our. I could hear
leaves crunching, not from my boots…but
a lighter slower movement.

I can hear the crusted creek running beside
the path flowing gently through vein like
openings in the ice. I can smell the wood
smoke from our fireplace.

I know that on the warming shelves of the
old wood stove are hot biscuits and ham
waiting for me to get home from scurrying
the forest for nuts and berries, a treat while
we sit around the fireplace listening to
Grandpa’s latest tale of the war he fought in
during his youth.

Mother’s watching from the window for signs
of my bright colored hat she knitted me last
Christmas, she opened the door and waved;
I was late and she was worried. I showed her
my overflowing baskets, she smiled…I wanted
keep her happy so, I did not tell her about the
Wolf.

2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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The Tapestry of Life…#131

 

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The Tapestry of Life…

It has taken me eight decades to realize that the individual self is a performer, life is the stage; we are masters of our emotions capable of expressing self-assurance, joy and rage. There is a hidden self, living deep within the forest of life, one that we prefer not to show, it is the image of strength and confidence that we truly desire to characterize. It is during the times of unknown valleys, darkness and fear; that we wear a mask, we masquerade keeping emotions hidden in the forest of our souls, yet within sight and near to ourselves. The landscape of ourselves if allowed will guide us to better places, and it is the silent strong self that transforms our outward faces. To believe in our aspirations and make our lives worth living, to hope we hang on to; it is within the landscape of our strong confident selves that allows us to dream. We perform in our world upon the stage of life where we remain perfect impressionist; yet, it is only when we change the tapestry of our lives we find true happiness.

 

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Coping and Resilience 

I am grateful for the opportunity to reblog this post from C.R. Murphree

Thoughts and Writings on Mental Health and Mindfulness

I have been writing about some of my experiences with depression and anxiety the last several posts. During that time, I received several messages from people telling me that by opening up I have helped them, which was my main intention with sharing such personal feelings and emotions. With many of these messages, I am being told how brave I am for sharing. I am not brave, I am simply on a journey to bring awareness to mental illness and break down the stigmas that go with this disease. It’s a journey, if you will, of self-discovery and truth. This is my truth, and I am not embarrassed to tell it, so there really is no bravery involved. I have always said, “Take me for who I am, or don’t take me at all.” It’s as simple as that.

With saying that, I am happy that people are connecting with…

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Life is not a Dress Rehearsal…#130

 

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Life is not a Dress Rehearsal…
The essence of descent into life takes root in childhood, without choice the journey in due course will end in sorrow. The caretakers of our existence bestow the gift of direction upon our tomorrows, life is a hierarchy from which expectations sprouts hope. It reaches beyond the core of our beginning, beyond the reach of those from which we descend. The perception of childhood can be deceived, living within the shelter of acceptance in a world filled with our parent’s ideas and ideals. Castles in the sky built upon the sands of childhood falls into an ocean of doubt as we sail toward a world that is no longer innocent and pure. Youth passes, living only in the yesterdays of our minds, life becomes complicated and the visions of early days soon fade from our minds. As adults, we convince ourselves that we are no longer allowed to dream, and life can sometimes be unkind. However even though we have walked the crest of mountains or disappeared into valleys of discontent, we must remember that the years one has are few. If life is not what you wanted and you believe the world you desire is not within your reach, then it is time to follow your own path with you in control of how your journey will end. Life is not a dress rehearsal… maybe it is time to return to the visions of yesteryear, remember your dreams and start living again before it is too late.
©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Make Your Own Imprint in Life…#129

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Make Your Own Imprint in Life…

Make Your Own Imprint in Life…
Start with expanding your own
senses, what do you believe were
God’s thoughts when having the
power to create; can someone take
away our right to choose love instead
of hate.

Take a chance, awaken your emotions,
rid yourself of life’s clutter and too
yourself be true; there is no end to your
imagination, leave the past, it is all up
to you.

No secret voices guide your life, no
clandestine decisions stop you from saying
the right words; and without a loving spirit
the unique music within your heart will
never be heard.

Make your own imprint in life leave a legacy
of peace and love for the coming generations;
give yourself permission to set lofty goals and
solid expectations.

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
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Thinking of Change…#128

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Thinking of Change…
On the other side of the veiled window, another parallel time moves within the hemisphere of tomorrow. From gilded persimmon dawn until blazing sunset, where the individual eye cannot see lives the selves of our future. Deep in the darkness of yesterday the persons living in the past look back as they can only see yesterday, the future will never come for those lost in yesteryear.

These individuals shrouded in the memories of the past live in the bodies of today, without the hope of tomorrow they float through time. In desperation, we all want to return to the past, to take the trip back into a more simple time that we use to know, to relive, to enjoy, or maybe to change. I try to think of how I can change!

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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