The Paradoxical World of An Urban Bush Woman

“The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large-scale revolution until there's a personal revolution, on an individual level. It's got to happen inside first.”
~ Jim Morrison~



Most of my life I've felt different-contrary. I never fit completely in either of the cultures I had a foot firmly planted in. I was either too Native or not Native enough. Anyone that grew up in my Momma's generation and after knows EXACTLY what I'm talking about.

It was a family joke that I was adopted. I told my younger sisters when they were six years old that I was really Japanese. I told them that Momma and Daddy felt pity for this poor, little, orphaned Japanese farm girl, gave her a home and made her a part of their family. My sisters believed it for about two seconds. *chuckle* I love my sisters. 

I wasn't adopted. Not like that...which is another story-in and of-itself for another time. We will just leave it at "I am mostly Yup'ik", not Japanese. Momma is the Yup'ik one. Daddy is the typical American conglomoration of heritage and culture. His happens to be Scottish, English, Hungarian Jew, German and a tribe from the Arkansas area (possibly Osage or Cherokee). My quandary about my identity wasn't as cut and dried as what ethnicity or heritage I am derived from. It was much more than that.

Anyone who is of mixed ethnicity of a certain time, or grows up in a dominant culture other than the culture their family comes from understands this without needing an explanation. Why? We don't fit the mold. In most ways. From the way we speak, to the way we dress, the traditions we do (or don't) hang onto, the people we identify with, and our language. Food? THAT we tend to hang onto. 

[I was just speaking to someone recently about all the things that indigenous people the world over lose from their culture when they live in another dominant culture and we agreed food was the last thing they lose. Why? Because it's an integral part of life.]

But everything else...it seems as if it's negotiable.

With me and many I have met like me? We've managed to carve out a place of our own, mixing and folding what works for us like a delicate emulsion. I know, I know...use of word usually reserved for a food or chemical to describe a concept that relates to sociology and culture. But if you think of an emulsion, the word works in this instance...because whatever two cultures we are blending (like food or chemicals) don't generally mix or blend well. Specific cultures as a general rule are immiscible.

At any rate, I felt like a puzzle piece that couldn't find a spot that I fit just right. It took me years and years before I decided that instead of finding a spot that I fit, I'd make one. That is how I became an Urban Bush Woman.

Now, Urban Bush Women...or Urban Bush Men...are unique. We take the best parts of both our cultures and live them. For me? From my Yup'ik culture I have: the history of My People; the stories of my family and the community I come from; subsistence skills; some traditional knowledge (mostly traditional woman knowledge); the ability to look at just about anything and figure out how to fix it, take it apart, or replicate it; and really poor Yup'ik speaking skills. I can understand it, just like I can understand a number of languages. Speaking it? Well, I sound like a 6 year old. Learning to speak Yup'ik? Difficult at best. 

Now, pair those Yup'ik skills with skills that anyone that lives in a large metropolitan city most of their life knows. What makes Urban Bush People different than any other long time Alaskan? The person can travel seamlessly from one culture to the other easily. Without missing a beat or batting an eyelash. No problem with honeybuckets, couture, fish camp, or high tea. I can make vichyssoise and cappuccino as easily as I can prepare traditional Yup'ik food from memory. I can build databases and write computer code or a business plan as easily as I can skin, butcher and put away game the way my grandfather and aunts and uncles taught me. I have songs older than time in my head as well as Walt Whitman, James Joyce, and Rumi. That, my friends, is an Urban Bush Woman. Or Man. 

So, why is the world paradoxical for an Urban Bush Woman? Because we don't have what most consider a normal kind of life. We have this vast storehouse of knowledge in our heads and most of the time we have to choose a role. Whatever role we need to. Because I live in the city, and am a professional, I have this citified Native role I have to fulfill. I still can do my traditional Yup'ik woman duties, and behave as a traditional Yup'ik woman should. I don't always behave as my Granny would want me to.  But it doesn't detract from who I am. In fact it adds to it.

As Urban Bush People, we are ancient and contemporary. Traditional and avant garde. Bearers of our culture, keepers of tradition and breaking new ground in industry, business and education all at the same time. The one major difference that we as Urban Bush People have is that at some point we stopped apologizing for being too Native or not Native enough. For me, I stopped trying to qualify who and what I am. And just be.

As an Urban Bush Woman, it is my perogative to be successful in the Western World, but to keep the traditions and wisdom that was entrusted to me by family members or others that I admire and respect. As Urban Bush People, we need to remember to hang onto the things that make us unique. The Bush part. Every Urban Bush Woman or Man who succeeds in maintaining the delicate balance of both worlds and is successful at fulfilling both roles is changing our cultures. But as Urban Bush People it is our responsibility to continue to pass on the learned traditions, language and culture of our heritage. It is our legacy. To remember until there is no one left to remember us...

In regards to the Urban Bush Woman graphic at the top of the page, it should not be saved, reproduced, or utilized in any form without my consent.

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Longing.

"Love is not to be purchased, and affection has no price."~St. Jerome~

There are many days where I am perfectly fine being single. I don't have to answer to anyone, I feel free to see whomever or do whatever I so choose without asking anyone or making concessions or compromise. I don't have anyone that has an opinion on what I'm wearing, what I'm eating, prodding me to get out of bed if I don't want to. I can go for a spontaneous drive if I'd like. I don't have to check in with anyone before I do. Most days I really enjoy it. Like last night. Totally gorgeous waiter at the restaurant I was at. He had remarkable silver flecks in his blue eyes. I smiled frequently. I flirted. Unashamedly. Unabashedly. He flirted back. I can do that. I'm single. I may be dating occasionally, but no one exclusively...yet.

But,...it's been growing on me...the envy...the longing. It starts out with an appreciation of those that I see that have it and it blossoms in my chest. And begins to ache. And makes me catch my breath eventually because my heart can't keep up. It's like looking through this window at this world you can't be a part of but desperately want to join because even if the people you see through the window aren't happy at that very moment, they're sharing something you don't have. You can't have. It's like they're part of an exclusive club you just can't join. Just like with my occasional bouts of baby fever, this longing grows and I have no way to control it. 

It's a recent discovery. I knew it would happen eventually, but not with this great force.




I want to be in a relationship.

Badly. 




I get a pang of sadness for myself. Envy. Longing. I'm happy for the couples I know and see. But I think I am ready for something a little more concrete than just a great evening out. I see couples doing their unremarkable couple things-like:

...the trade off at dinner. I'll give you the thing from my entree you like but I don't eat, I'll take the bread off your plate so you don't hate yourself at the gym tomorrow

...getting coffee just they way their SO likes it. Or anything else for that matter that their SO likes regularly. Something that they don't have to think about or ask. They just know.

...grabbing a hand while walking or leaning a head on a shoulder for comfort or to show affection because they're just bonded like that.

...witnessing the little spat that you know they've had a million times over and will have a million times again about the same thing...with the little kiss at the end reconfirming their mutual adoration despite this little conflict.

I want someone that knows how I like my coffee-and I theirs, will share not just their entree-but their life-with me, argue the same stupid and harmless little argument with me, and have just the right place on their shoulder that fits me. I want someone that has an opinion on what I'm wearing, what I'm eating, prodding me to get out of bed if I don't want to...or keeping me in bed if I do.  I want someone to go for a spontaneous drive with me if I'd like. And I want someone to check in with, someone that cares if I get to my destination safely. I want the first call and last call of the day to be the person I think about first and last. I want to wake up with someone and tell them not to kiss me just yet because we have morning breath, and for them to ignore me. I want to go to bed with someone who steals the covers, is too hot, cuddles me too much. I want to debate the great things with someone of a mature, sophisticated and intelligent mind. I want someone that isn't afraid to make fun of themselves and isn't afraid to be silly. I want someone that isn't surprised at my boldness, kindness, foolishness, great love, temper, compassion, jealousy, or outlandishness-in public or private. I want someone who respects and admires my mind, reveres my heart and worships my body. I want to be that for someone else. I desperately want someone that fits me and I fit them perfectly. I want, I want, I want... 

It's a difficult place to be single in this day and age. I didn't know how much of a pain in the ass being single and trying to find someone to share your life with was. Seriously.

If you've been single in recent years, there are a number of things that have changed. It's hard to date. It's surprisingly hard to meet someone if you're looking for a person of quality, a person of a certain calibre. There is very rarely any wooing or "courting" anymore. What with the advent and popularity of FWB (friends with benefits) or the infamous booty calls, online "relationships", sites that promote anonymous hook-ups, and the loss of a great thing we once had...sensuality. Seduction as an art form. Seduction takes a long time. Nuanced. Subtle. It's something that you have to be skilled in. Not to be confused with the hyper-sexualized and easy buffet of crass vulgarity that CAN be what single people are subjected to. If you're attractive? It's worse. You become this magnet to people who just want an easy hook up...to "hang out" and see what develops. *PUKE*  People of quality, people of substance can be discouraged. Easily.

And forget about finding the right one when you are a divorced mother of three very active children, and you have two jobs and no time. Sometimes, being in that particular demographic makes predators think you're an "easy target". The "oh she's a single mom, she's gotta be desperate, any attention she gets is probably wanted...badly, and I could have her..." mentality. Let's not even acknowledge men who I could almost feasibly have given birth to hitting on me. My inner siren and sex goddess purrs and says "You've still got it..." but my rational self is screaming "Go to your room! This very second. You're grounded until you grow up, boy!" I do not date men I could have feasibly given birth to. 

I'm extremely particular about who I allow in my life. I don't have casual sex. I am very strong by nature. I like to be in control. I'm a pain in the ass. I have too much passion. I don't like being told what to do. I'm a handful. I like grand gestures-romance totally gets me. Flowers will make me melt. Knowing me well enough to know when I need to be held or shut up means a lot to me. I'm a complex woman. I say I'm damaged. Others have argued we all are...in our own unique ways. I can frustrate you. I intimidate the hell out of most men. But I don't NEED anyone to take care of me. Men need to be very strong and thick skinned to date me. They need to be persistent and calm because I get scared and will try to push them away. Relationships, although I want one, scare the living hell out of me. 

Dating me, if you're serious and may have intentions, is like negotiating a very delicate treaty or hostage situation. My children are the center of my world. They always get first priority. If I am seeing you, you can't expect me to be spontaneous or fawn all over you. I'm not going to text you all day. I can't talk to you all night. I have a life. A very busy one. Setting up a date or an outing with me is like event management. *giggle*  and IF we get to a "certain place", there are no sleep overs. There isn't any negotiation on that. You don't get to meet the short people unless I know it's going somewhere. Even then? If they don't like you? Buh-bye. If they do like you? There still are no sleep-overs. Not for a looooooong time.  

My difficulty is not necessarily a deterrant for men. I've had men tell me that pursued me and made it so far that they said they were going to make me break all of my rules. They didn't last past that. But  where is the right man?!?!?

Until that one comes along? I won't be holding my breath. If he doesn't come along at all...? Some of the most beautiful people I've ever met, heart and soul, have never found great love. I won't accept anything but the kind of love I want...the kind of love I need. I won't settle just because I want to be with someone. They don't deserve that and neither do I. Love is too precious for that. (Don't ever settle. Please.)

I'll just continue to keep the window clean and clear and appreciate the view. Envy? Longing? It's still there. But it's mine to deal with. Love and affection is priceless. It can't be bought. It doesn't matter who you are, what you look like, how much money you do (or don't) have, or the quality of person you are.  And who loves you or who you love may surprise you. It comes to you unannounced. Unbidden sometimes. And love may stay away, even with all the longing in the world held in the most deserving heart...

M'anam Charaid-My Soulmate, My Best Friend

“I cannot picture what the life of the spirit would have been without him. He found me when my mind and soul were hungry and thirsty, and he fed them till our last hour together. It is such comradeships, made of seeing and dreaming, and thinking and laughing together, that make one feel that for those who have shared them there can be no parting.”

~Edith Wharton, A Backward Glance: An Autobiography~

Most little girls have pictures in our minds about how we want to grow up and find someone that loves us like the love you find in fairytales. Someone who will find us beautiful and kind and smart and will love us in challenging circumstances. And do chivalrous things for us...like slay dragons, climb towers, rescue us. Or waltz and sing with us in forests about meeting once upon a dream. We dream of the perfect wedding. The perfect family. The perfect life together with 2.5 children and a dog. It's the Christmas card.

We don't always find that though. Sometimes you find something entirely different. Something less than fairy tale perfect. That's what I found at first. And I married him.

It would be a gross understatement to say The Dreaded Ex and I were ill suited to one another. There was our mismatched temperments, the difference in our basic values and morals, and there was the case of our disparate backgrounds.

I grew up in a large city far from my mother's humble roots in a Yup'ik eskimo village on the Southwestern Bering Sea Coast of Alaska. I went to private school, summer camp, had vacations at my grandparents and great grandparents beach cabins. I played soccer for years and had a typical suburban American life with my siblings and parents. I was far from a traditional village girl, raised instead with strong Western values.  Although we struggled in my early years financially, my Daddy came from a good family and my well educated and incredibly nurturing eskimo mother wasn't your average village girl. They came from vastly differing demographics, but they were both headed in the same direction. Their love was and is a unique and admirable thing. I had amazing role models for love and family. Everyone I grew up around were like this. You got married to someone, you worked on it to keep your marriage strong, and you stayed married.

The Dreaded Ex grew up in the same remote Alaskan village my mother was from, raised by his grandparents and large extended family. Tormented while he grew by some ignorant people who didn't know any better than to pick on a child because of the circumstances of his birth-at the time being half-Yup'ik and half white and born to an unmarried mother who didn't stay with his father was something scandalous in the town. He was poor. He was trouble in school growing up. He was rebellious, angry, an opportunist, and did as much a he could get away with. He was pretty much born fighting. He was a bad boy. That carried over into our marriage, much to my chagrin. He answered to no one, especially not me. His marital vows meant little, if anything to him. 

With all due respect to the man I was married to, he does have some redeeming qualities, and there was a time I loved him. He is intelligent when he wants to be, compassionate when he thinks no one is looking, loves his children in his own way, and hard working. But that's about all I can remember that was good of him. I look at my marriage to him as the ultimate education for myself. Through my experiences with him, I gained my PhD of "What I don't want in my life". I owe him a debt of gratitude. Because of him, I know what I do and don't want in a partner, and what I will and won't stand for in how I am treated and loved in a relationship. I'm sure he can say the same about me. Love and marriage is a two person deal...most of the time.

Suffice it to say, our marriage was ill fated. Those who know more specific details of our marriage would say that I am being extremely generous and kind.

It was toward the end of my marriage, when it was almost unbearable, I met M'anam Charaid. My Best Friend. My Soulmate. He was quite a bit younger than I, so I didn't feel that anything serious would come of it. I mean, come on...I was still married. Technically. But, he wasn't from where I live. He lived and worked far away. He was safe. Or so I thought.

We spoke often after we met, we found we had much in common. Music. Love of cooking. We had the same sense of humor, same intelligence level, etc. We came from similar backgrounds where family and tradition were at the forefront. His heritage was the same as my Daddy's. We learned we had a lot more in common. The things we wanted out of life. Our drive. High standards.  So, we continued our friendship long distance. Instant messaging, texting, talking on the phone, etc.

I liked talking to him. He was kind, funny and non-judgmental. He knew I was going through a lot in my personal life. He didn't know any details as I got to know him over the months of "the beginning of the end". It would be much later that he would became aware the full extent of what I was dealing with. He, like everyone else, was was aghast that a relationship could be so bad.

I remember one Friday night, after a particularly difficult afternoon of working with my divorce lawyer on interim agreements, division of assets worksheets, income spreadsheets, etc. that I broke down. I was alone at home, the children were visiting their father for the weekend. I was so emotionally exhausted and physically drained I just wanted to scream. Instead, I let loose the most painful and heartwrenching sobs I have ever cried. I was so sick of going over the negative things about my marriage, the failures, the character defects of both myself and the man I was married to, anything and everything wrong about both of us. 

I prayed, as I'm wont to do at the drop of a hat. And I decided right then and there to do something someone had mentioned to me about expectations and my future. I decided to write a letter to God/The Universe/My Creator. Positive things that I was going to work toward and invite into my life. I wrote down what things I needed in my life for stability, for predictability and for my own peace. The things I wanted to make sure I had to take care of my family. And then I paused. I considered if I should do the same for the kind of man I would accept into my life someday in the distant future. I began writing down just the characteristics of "my perfect man". No physical stuff-no ideal height, look, etc. It was after I had about twenty lines on my very specific list of characteristics in this fictional man that I realized something profound. I had just described my best friend to a tee. It shocked me to the core.

I kept that information to myself, held it in my chest and near my heart like a secret treasure for a few weeks. I never told him a thing. At some point, there was a realization on both our parts that feelings had shifted. I always knew he was attracted to me. And I was attracted to him-I had my secret knowledge tucked around me. But, one evening we were talking about our usual stuff. Teasing, funny banter back and forth. I didn't mention how long our conversation seemed that night. And then it got quiet.

"I don't want to go to bed."

"Why not?" I asked

"Because I want to keep talking to you..."

I chuckled. "I know the feeling."

"I really enjoy talking to you. I look forward to it every day."

I smiled. "Me too. 

Long pause on his part.

"I can't get you out of my head...I think about you all the time."

Silence for a few beats. My heart was thumping in my chest.

"I know the feeling..." I whispered.


I was thrilled that he felt the same way that I did. Over the many months and years, that would become our standard phrase..."I know the feeling." It was the shared statement, the acknowledgement of our understanding of the longing we felt. Of need. Of emotion. Of frustration. Of everything we couldn't say. And a confirmation of what we could. We taught each others how to love in the most basic way possible.

There were dreams of a future together. Wishes. There were spoken and unspoken rules of fidelity and faithfulness to the ideal of what we hoped we'd become. There were innumberable arguments of why it wouldn't work, and just as many as to why it would. There was hurt. There was unspeakable joy. There was betrayal. There was forgiveness. There was great respect, love, and understanding. There was laughter. There was jealousy. There was indifference. And there was separation of emotion. But, always there was friendship. I have said to him on many occasion, "We started as friends. We'll end as friends."

He still is my friend to this day. We still make each others laugh and think. I can talk to him about everything that is important to me in my life: my joys, hopes, successes, my children, my challenges. My life. He can do the same as well with his work, his business, his family and friendships, goals, successes and frustrations. We can share everything. All except one thing.

We still can't bring ourselves to talk to one another about dating or how we feel about each other. We don't talk as much as we used to. I think we are afraid to. I always know what he's thinking and what he wants me to say when he asks me "How are you?" I have to fight saying "I miss you..." and say "I'm great" instead. Someday, we'll be able to talk about the new romantic interests. New plans, new hopes, new dreams. Not today. Probably not tomorrow either. I don't know if we ever will be able to...



The point with both of these stories from my life is that we learn about who we are and what we want from each person we encounter, each person we allow ourselves to love. Loving someone can have many results. It can be destructive or it can be beautiful. It can terrify you in negative and positive ways. It can bring you to the brink of giving up or to a new place of indescribable joy you never knew you could experience.

The scary thing about love is that you have to willingly give someone else the power and ability to hurt you. You make yourself vulnerable to them. You don't know what will happen. Just like everything else in life worth having, you have to take it on faith that it will be okay, hope that you will come out intact and work hard at it if you want to succeed at it. Every person you love is an opportunity for growth. A chance to change yourself for the better. A great opportunity to learn. It's in the most unselfish love that you begin to understand what it is to care for another's joy and happiness more than your own. Whether or not that love lasts, one never leaves your heart and soul without an imprint...and some beautiful echoes in who they have helped you to become...

"Thank you for shopping your Midtown Wal-mart"

"This life is what you make it. No matter what, you're going to mess up sometimes, it's a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you're going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends - they'll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they'll come and go too. And baby, I hate to say it, most of them - actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can't give up because if you give up, you'll never find your soulmate. You'll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don't, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about." ~Marilyn Monroe~

I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that a lost girl like Marilyn Monroe say something so profound that it is timeless, and it fits everyone. I always wondered how far she got on her own path to growth. And I wonder, had she been able to handle it, what she would have become.

I was a lost girl once. I only truly started my journey of personal growth in 2004, at the ripe old age of almost 30. I was spent. Used up. Lost and bewildered. With a heart so broken that I never thought I was going to recover. I was wrong, I would. I would have my heart broken again. Innumberable times over the years, and I still anticipate I have heartbreak left to face. I do so with a smile.

2004 was a horrendous year for me. I was angry. Hurt. Hating my life. Hating myself. We all have our misgivings about our lives, but I had it in my head that absolutely EVERYTHING was wrong with my life. I was correct in that assumption. And I was ready for a change. 

Decimated by the realization that aside from having my children (eldest son and daughter at that point), everything up until then may have been the wrong choice:

I was on the wrong path-drinking too much and doing nothing positive with my life. The only positive was that I was beginning to go through alcohol treatment because I was drinking too much;

I was married to the wrong man-it would be an understatement to say he wasn't a very nice person. I was terrified of him. Not because he hit me. He didn't, but sometimes I wished he would. His malfeasance was much more insidious and damaging than even I could comprehend at that time. He was toxic to me and was making me physically ill;

I was a horrible mother. Or, I felt I was. What mother allows abuse to happen around her children? He left them alone most of the time. But, it still happened around them. That single thing. Me allowing them to witness the abuse, plant that seed that it was okay in their minds, I will never forgive myself for. Or at least, I'll never forget that feeling of shame.

I had no idea at the time about the power that resides in each one of us. I was oblivious. My physical and emotional being hurt because I was denying myself the nourishment of my heart and soul. My inner self was emaciated while my outer self was bloated with pain. I was hemmoraging emotionally and dying a spiritual death and I had no way to stop it. 

The change came at the most unusual time in the most unusual place. It was in a Wal-mart while I was waiting for my Aunt. I was sitting on a bench near the exit after a long day at the treatment facility I was getting help from, unconsciously praying for some sort of sign from an otherworldly being because I didn't know how I would survive living with this open wound that was my life. I appealed to My Creator as I understood Him/Her/It to deliver me from the personal hell I had created in my mind, except I didn't understand My Creator at all. I doubted the existence of My Creator actually. My first mistake. I sat there surrounded by a flurry of activity and the beeps and shuffle of groceries and sundries being checked out at nearby registers in quiet agony. How in the world was I going to deliver myself from this hell? 

Suddenly I was suffused with a warmth that radiated from my heart and my forehead, and a calm descended in my ravaged heart and throughout my entire being. I felt at peace, and knew that the answers would come...but I just had to believe. In myself. My capabilities. My worth. My love. My entire being. My life. But most importantly, I had to believe in My Creator. Whatever that was.

Just then, over the store loudspeaker, one of the employees said something that still brings a smile to my face when I hear it. "Thank you for shopping your Midtown Wal-Mart".

There was my sign. And it was branded by Sam Walton. *chuckle* For whatever reason, that comforted me. I smiled and sought out my aunt.

Now, I'm not going to tell you the road I took after that was easy. It wasn't. I failed a bunch of times. At being a wife. An employee. A friend. A mother. A wife...no, I take that back. I failed at being HIS wife. I failed at being myself. I've also succeeded at many of the same things, minus the role of wife.

I've lived in relatively abject poverty. Been depressed. Been suicidal. Occasionally, with the Dreaded Ex...felt homocidal. Hopeless. Faithless. Fearful. Thought I was crazy...

But I've also realized I'm wealthier than I ever imagined I could be-in love and faith and friendship. Been happier than I ever imagined I could be. Loving everyone so much that I was filled to overflowing. Hopeful. Faithful. Strong and brave. But, I still think I'm crazy!

How did I make it through all this? With the love of my family. And friends. Some friends so special that they changed my life (but more on that later). I've fallen in love again. Fallen out of love again. Had my heart broken again. But the one thing I have been able to maintain throughout whatever happens to be going on in my life is that I am blessed. Beyond my wildest and most mundane dreams. I have people that love me. A wonderful family that supports my every endeavour. Amazing friends that spur me to continue to fight the good fight. A best friend, my soulmate- m'anam charaid-that has seen me through it all. And a great love that has settled into my heart, perhaps for all eternity. Love for myself. Finally.

So, I'll continue on. Messing up occasionally. Making the right decisions mostly. Falling in love-hopefully. Whatever I do, I'll do with a smile on my face and love in my heart. Because this is my life. As messed up or perfect as it has been, it's mine. No one else's. And I cherish every blessed moment of it. Come what may.

The Urban Bush Woman Revealed

 “Soar with wit. Conquer with dignity. Handle with care.”  
~Criss Jami~

I've loved the written word as long as I can remember. There hasn't been a time in my life when I couldn't find comfort in the pages of a book or with my pen to paper. 

Writing gives me comfort. It provides me an outlet for my joys, however small;  my sorrows and heartbreak;  my great failures and successes, my constant yearning to find out who I am and what role I am supposed to fulfill, and to share my life. Because it is in sharing who I am that I am able to touch the hearts of those around me. I can find a common theme and thread and those who read my words can empathize or sympathize with me. Because we have all been through it. My stories aren't new or different than what you or anyone else has been through. For some reason, I can just string words together to convey exactly what I'm feeling...what you're feeling...what you've felt. I am YOUR voice as much as my own. 

I've written short fiction, erotica, stories about my remarkable mixed up family, the pain of my divorce to a man I thought I loved with all my heart as a young woman, my struggles as a single mother of three amazing children I have been blessed with-my short people, and observations on my life and those around me.  I started writing my personal observations about my family and life on a social networking site. Those simple writings have blossomed into this blog with the encouragement of dear friends and family.

Writing simply is an expression of who I am. It keeps me sane and free in times I have felt bound and trapped. It releases my spirit and allows me to remove the burden from my heart and soul and place a modicum of peace back inside me.

I am passionate. I am fiery. I am difficult to handle. I'm a siren. I'm invisible. I'm sensitive...and unbreakable. I'm a joyous and loving handful. I'm sensual...and innocent. I'm cynical...and 

naïve. I'm strong and tough. I'm vulnerable and afraid. I'm defiant and fearless. 

I'm trusting that the things that happen in my life happen for a reason. Every single experience we have is there for us to learn from, as well as those that we love. If God, The Creator, The Universe...whatever you want to call Him/Her/It didn't put us here to become enlightened beings, then I don't know what our true purpose is. Life inspires me. And scares the living hell out of me most days.

Please walk with me on my journey as I continue to learn to soar with wit, conquer my demons and challenges with dignity and as I always remind people to be kind to themselves and each other-to handle with care.