The Killer Whale Mountain Bike team racing, a club team, in 2015.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: drive.
The Killer Whale Mountain Bike team racing, a club team, in 2015.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: drive.
Water as a boundary, a moving boundary. The beach changes every day with every tide. Sometimes the water seems to arrange the rocks by size. Then the next day, the rocks seem to have disappeared.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: boundary.
I try to be so gentle with you
trauma drama boy
I know just what it’s like
though mine is not the same as yours
you run away, though
again and again
saying that you would never try
to hurt me ever
that is a shut down
really
since you disavow all intention of hurting
you do whatever you want
your attitude is that if I am hurt or sad
it’s my own fault
you take no responsibility for failures
as a friend
trauma drama boy, you run away
once more
and this time
I’ve had enough
This time
I let you go
Beloved bless you and keep you
for the days you have left
sending love
goodbye
My daughter got the elephant in the mail yesterday.
She called me, very happy with it. “It has a TAIL! It matches the pillowcase. I love the fishy fabric.”
The back story is that when she was a baby, her father’s mother made her a pillow. It had two pockets. In the pockets were four small stuffed toys. Her older brother has one too. The toys were not exactly the same. Hers had an elephant.
When she got sick earlier this year, I start sending her care packages. I send the pillow with three of the stuffed toys. However, I don’t find the elephant.
She loves it but asks, “Where’s the elephant?”
“I’m still looking.” The elephant is pink, with fabric ears that are different from the body. I find it! She is coming here for a month, so I don’t mail it. She is very pleased with the elephant.
It goes AWOL before she flies back to work. “Check the tent, mom.” She stayed in the tent in the back yard with two of her friends. I take the tent apart. No elephant. I check the sleeping bags. I sweep under her bed and search the house. As my daughter says, my house has a lot of hiding places and the cats like the elephant too. No elephant.
So for her birthday I make one. I remember how it looks and I make it while watching some continuing medical education. It’s easier to hand stitch than to get out the machine. I have to buy a large bag of stuffing, because the store downtown only has one size. Never mind, maybe I will make more elephants.
I made her a pillowcase last year, with the whale/mermaid fabric and the fish. So the elephant matches.
And she likes it! Hooray!
_______________
My daughter says I can’t make clothes for her, but pillowcases and elephants are great! A breakthrough!
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: breakthrough.
The tree colors this year have been amazing! I think it is because the rain started late. I hope all the trees survive. I watered mine and thanked them and said I hoped they would stay. I say “mine” but I just live here. The trees were here before me and I hope after as well.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
I have a poem up at Edge of Humanity Magazine, many thanks.
I wrote about the two dreams I had one night, with seven people. Two babies, a boy and a girl. Two professionals, a woman physician and a male policeman. Two rebels, a woman and a man, the man lying or at least misleading the rebel woman. The rebel woman trying to do something that she suddenly realizes is not important and is, in fact, foolish and dangerous. And a quiet woman.
I have been thinking about the quiet woman ever since. My Meyers-Briggs type in medical school came out INTJ, but we are not one thing or another. We have preferences, but we all have to use all the skills. I can be extroverted. I had to work on feeling, that was the really difficult one for me after a frightening childhood. I can pay attention to facts though I sweep them into the intuition very quickly. Medical school is facts and facts and facts, except then there are parts that turn out to change as science changes.
The eighth person is a quiet man. He is not present in the dream. I am thinking about him. I wonder if I will have another dream when I am ready.
I am attending some workshops on line for treating trauma. It is quite fascinating. They talk about working with clients who have aspects like my dream: a small child with trauma. A “fake adult”, aka “adaptive child”, with the tools that the child develops to survive in their childhood. Helping the “fake adult” recognize that some of coping tools may not be helpful or necessary any longer. First, they thank the “fake adult”, for protecting the traumatized child and for surviving at all and for not giving up. I think this is so important, to acknowledge that we have to thank that part of ourselves that did what it had to, that did what it could, to survive. And this can include things that we are ashamed of or fear that others would hate us for if found out. We had a temporary doctor at the hospital who described being a boat person escaping Vietnam at age 8. They were picked up by pirates. “We were glad to see the pirates, because we had run out of water. If the pirates had not picked us up, we would have died.” So there is perspective: death by dehydration or pirates? And she went from a refugee camp and then through medical school and became a physician. Survival and success and I hope that she is thriving.
I like it when a dream has such recognizable symbols. My now retired Unitarian Universalist minister says that we can sit with dreams for a time. What do the symbols mean to me? What is the dream telling me? My dream is in part telling me that I do not need to have the rebel woman lead: she can rest and let the quiet woman take over. And that I am very tired of rebel men who mislead me or run away. I woke up and thought, oh, yes, I see! I am tired of that and ready for change.
Change and transformation can happen throughout our lives, at any age. I welcome it.
Blessings and peace you.
___________________
The photograph is Sol Duc and Elwha enjoying doll bunkbeds. And acting like siblings do sometimes. And then they curl up together.
Taken near Quilcene, Washington, this September. They look so alive! Uh-oh, Halloween, don’t go there at midnight.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
And this is lovely:
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
I love walking the beaches here and there is a little fear involved. The cliffs can and do collapse. Sometimes the collapse goes out past the median tide line. It would be lethal to be under these cliffs when a piece lets go.

But the beaches are so beautiful and it’s worth the risk. I worry about seeing feet sticking out when I come across a newly collapsed area. A friend of mine saw a huge section collapse and said it was terrifying.
Happy Halloween, everyone.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fear.
BLIND WILDERNESS
in front of the garden gate - JezzieG
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Or not, depending on my mood
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain!
An onion has many layers. So have I!
Exploring the great outdoors one step at a time
Some of the creative paths that escaped from my brain!
Books, reading and more ... with an Australian focus ... written on Ngunnawal Country
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
spirituality / art / ethics
Coast-to-coast US bike tour
Generative AI
Climbing, Outdoors, Life!
imperfect pictures
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
En fotoblogg
Books by author Diana Coombes
NEW FLOWERY JOURNEYS
in search of a better us
Personal Blog
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
π πππππΎπ πΆπππ½π―ππΎππ.πΌππ ππππΎ.
Taking the camera for a walk!!!
From the Existential to the Mundane - From Poetry to Prose
1 Man and His Bloody Dog
Homepage Engaging the World, Hearing the World and speaking for the World.
Anne M Bray's art blog, and then some.
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