Musings: At the Water’s Edge

low tide sandy pointMusings on a late summer’s day from my journal…

The tidal waters converged around the sandbar creating a rippling wave that crisscrossed and danced diagonally on the shore. The blue ocean water sparkled in the large tidal basin evoking the vision of a large sapphire sitting in the sun.

As I waded in the warm tidal pool I looked down to see a school of minnows swirling about my feet and my ankles. I imagined that they tickled my flesh as they swam by so swiftly in the sun-warmed water.

What a blessing to have this perfect last beach day soaking up the sun and lolling in the water that was near warm enough to be in the tub. Life was teeming at the water’s edge, from the minnows and hermit crabs to the sanderlings and piping plovers and of course, the large shore birds, the gulls of the Atlantic shore. Soon the cooler fall air would shift into play and the warmer weather birds would migrate.

The vast swarms of swallows had left the refuge just a few days ago. The purple martins were also gone. The songbirds had long moved on. Summer was winding down. The green marshes had been showing a hint of fall color for a few weeks, but suddenly there was a riot of color exploding in bursts across the landscape.

My Writing Life: Little Red Pays a Visit

I was hoping my move to the river a few weeks ago would provide me for good inspiration for my writing. It has taken me sometime to settle in to my new place and that has been a distraction from school, and of course my writing. The inspiration is starting to kick in, I am happy to say.

Writing has been my life and I’ve never fulfilled writing what I really wanted to write about so I am working on that now while I am working on BA at UMass Amherst University Without Walls where I am majoring in Creative Writing and Communication in the Digital Age.

I had a visitor to my front porch this morning. A little red squirrel who eventually started tearing into an old cushion on beat up wicker chair with a basket of fake forsythia in it. I grabbed the cameras. And then I grabbed my big 8.5″ x 11″ journal and started writing. I”ll take it… one page at a time.

Little Red Pays a Visit: Continue reading

Reflections: Maine or Bust… Looking Back on My Grand Mid-life Crisis Adventure

023Seven years ago October 19, I embarked on a cross-country, life changing move from Los Angeles to Eastport, Maine with my daughter, her cat, and all our belongings jam-packed into a 6′ x 12′ U-Haul Trailer. The journey cross-country was as jam-packed as the trailer, with my friend Mario behind the wheel, we set out to make it cross-country in breakneck speed, traveling from Los Angeles to Rock’s Village, Massachusetts in 4 1/2 days. Mario had volunteered to get us safely from point A to just north of Boston, from there I would be on my own driving to Maine. As luck would have it, once arrived in Massachusetts, another dear friend, who recently passed away, stepped up and attached my U-Haul trailer to his 8-cylinder SUV to haul it up to Eastport for me. A bit of what prompted me to make the move and what happened once we located follows…

In the summer of 2008, I realized that it was time to leave Los Angeles. Continue reading

Be Just Woman

Decades ago when I started my personal foray into women’s studies, the field was still quite new. A feminist at heart, I was raised by a mother who also felt the tug of women’s rights strongly, as she came of age in the time of the early women’s rights movement in America. It is fear that causes men to still thwart women’s rights. It is fear that keeps some women from speaking up and claiming their own. Yet, we women are strong, powerful, “brilliant beings,” and many still long for the rights of simply be themselves.

The Temple of Five by Lisa Marquis BradburyBe Just Woman

In the brilliance
Of my madness,
Only then can I see
The sadness,
That walks,
And talks
In a million
Brilliant beings.
I see it on the corner,
In every face
Of every woman,
In the shops,
On the bus,
Every one,
They are all us.
We have long to speak
Our voice,
To tell our feelings,
Be just women.
We have long to walk
Our walk,
To talk
Our talk,
Be just women.
We are mothers
To our children,
Fierce and docile
Both by nature.
We are friends
To our sisters,
And lovers,
To our men.
We are feminists,
Who want to be
Feminine,
Honored and revered,
But instead
In our passing,
We are often not loved,
Only feared.
© Pamela Leavey
Temple of the Five by Lisa Marquis Bradbury ©

Like A Piece Of Discarded Trash

When our hearts have been broken, we feel so alone, like the solitary swan pictured below, or worse, like a piece of discarded trash, left by the wayside. It takes time for a broken heart to heal and we each find our through the pain in our own time and space. Grief is a powerful emotion and lost love is a grievous affair.

Like A Piece Of Discarded Trashsoloswan

When does a heart cease
To be broken,
When does a vow cease
To be significant.
When can you walk away
And, leave the pain behind
Like a piece of discarded trash.
There comes a point,
When enough
Is enough.
It’s time to move on;
But, you feel
You are cheated,
Of the love
You thought that was shared.
And, the emptiness hangs on,
Like a piece of gum,
Stuck upon the bottom of your shoe.
Time often becomes,
Immeasurable;
And, you wish that
It would refrain.
And, so you cling
To what was once
Engaging.
When does a heart cease
To be broken,
When does a vow cease
To be significant.
When can you walk away,
And, leave the pain behind,
Like a piece,
Of discarded trash.

© Pamela Leavey

If your heart is broken, have faith… In time you will find the strength to love again.

I Will Not Sell My Soul

My journey on the path of feminism, the goddess and women studies started decades ago. Poetry has often been an outlet of expression for me, since I was a child. The following is a piece from my journals expressing my thoughts on the divine feminine and my rights as a woman to be free

DivinefeminineLMBI will not sell my soul
To the Devil
Because,
As a woman
I am not free
To be me;
I will fight for my honor,
The freedom
To be me.
I will not hide who I am,
Change my dress,
Or my ways;
I am woman,
I was born free,
Free
To be me.
I will not watch what I say,
How I speak,
Or to whom;
I will fight for my honor,
The freedom
To be me.
I will not inhibit my sensual self,
Squelch my desires,
Deny my lusts;
I am woman,
I was born free,
Free
To be me.
Hear me now
You who be that devil,
Who wants to take
Hold of me;
I am woman,
I was born free,
Free
To be me.

Poetry: I Will Not Sell My Soul ~ © Pamela Leavey

Art: Divine Feminine by Lisa Marquis-Bradbury ©