Stuck to the Toilet.....by Julianna Rowe

I have a business called "A Green Experience," which  means my clients choose to have their homes cleaned using all natural green cleaning supplies.  I have seen everything from "erp" and I dont mean Wyatt, in bathroom trash containers, to enough dog hair from one cleaning to make forty wigs. Okay so four wigs.  But I'll never tell.

  

The other day one of my clients came to my helper and asked her if she could clean the green cleaner off his toilet seat after she cleans it with the green cleaner.

 

She said, "Sure, but why?"

He said, "Because I got stuck to it!"

I couldn't stop laughing because I wanted to say, "No, its not the green cleaning solution, its that you sit too long sir! You have stacks of magazines, crossword puzzles, and pens, heck it looks like an office next to the toilet.  My Grandpa used to say, "Either sit there and think, or sit there and stink."  Sorry but he was an old farmer and when I was old enough to read I saw that written "A tad differently on the old outhouse wall.

There really was an old Sears catalog in Pa's outhouse for the purpose of wiping tail. I used to crumple up the pages and rub them together so they were softer for obvious reasons. I was six years old and if you have never wiped your bum with a page from a Sears catalog you have missed out on a piece of life.  But then I have never used a leaf out in the woods and I figure I have not missed out on a darn thing.

Okay so back to what I have seen.  Sweat so thick on walking machines it is yellow and no I will not clean that up! I have seen closets I wouldn't let anyone see.  Now I know why my friends always cleaned up before the cleaning lady comes.  I love it when I see a beautiful black flat stove someone used as if it were a campfire.  And I am supposed to figure out how to get a quarter of an inch of black charred crust off it?  But I'll never tell.  How about teenagers rooms where you cant see the floor for the clothes, glasses of water, moldy bowls, and trash with spiders. Although this one I understand totally. One of my clients told me I forgot to dust off the top of the furnace regular.  Yet the inside of his closet looks like a trash bin.  But I'll never tell.  Once I got fired for cleaning the cats water fountain which was not fit for carp. Guess they forgot the times I cleaned up their cats pueck. You have to laugh at the ridiculousness. 

Then there are those people who have been blessed financially but do not care about what they have been blessed with.  I am speaking of the tangible items their money buys them.  I am in awe of the number of shoes people have, the organic foods, the pottery and artwork, the remodeling projects, the closets larger than my master bedroom, the seven bathrooms, and so on.  But I'll never tell because I get paid for it.  I keep in mind that I nurture their homes and that is my job. Whatever they do with it beyond that I can only watch for the humor of it.  

In truth most all my clients are amazing and I have been truly blessed. 💓

The good stories out way all the fourteen years of people stuck to their toilet seats.  Like the hundred stuffed animals we set up and "make happy."  The children look forward to coming home from school to see the new set up every time.  The people that paid me when I had cancer surgery.  The clients that paid me during the two - three months of lock down during the pandemic. The fresh eggs waiting for me  from the backyard chickens. But, the Christmas bonus's are the most "bestest!"  I am very blessed.

Life On Mars

That was an old TV show and it made me nervous. Remember P.S. Bell, my deceased old man friend said I was neurotic and such. No I am not, my Mother is. LLOL (Lord laughing out loud!) When I used to watch  Life On Mars, the guy was stuck in 1973. They didn't have computers, cell phones, or the ability to check DNA for crimes although they did have racial problems, and women's rights issues. Basically its a mess for someone who has 2021 wisdom and lives in 1973. Whalla....isn't that the same as me? I could do that reality TV and do it daily because I had more fun in 1973 so I run on back there in my brain whenever needed or not needed. Some people do Zen or Chi, but I did and do Doo Wop. 

You know back then it cost a million bucks and you got 20 CD's by mail of Doo Wop music. Now its $6.50 a month for Sirius XM with a zillion channels that make me so happy. So happy I used to dance with my bedpost all night.  I had a hand carved Cherry Wood Rice Bed shipped here from Europe. Or so the furniture store sales-man told me. And I like what he told me so I bought it and kept it...the story and the bed. That bedpost was not only good for re-cycled gum, it was good for playing dance partner. And much easier. It had no brains or other anatomical parts, which I preferred at that time. Do recall I was playing "Duck"  back then which meant I was "Going with the Flow" of life. But the "calling" BACK continued.. I Only Have Eyes for You....Only You... The Duke of Earl....Blue Velvet..... Runaway..... Diana.......The Wanderer....Jack and Diane.......and so on. Doo Wop makes me happy. I think it was a time when life was better as well as I could seriously more agile for doing the jitter bug and could sing better.

We all need that happy place and I still get it through memories of music. And would you believe back then I was be one of the only humans left on earth with no CD player in my car. Nope, nada, none. But I do now, along with built in Sirus XM because this is not Mars, it is Earth and I live in America where CD car players and built in everything in cars are everywhere like Peanut Butter and Jelly. I love Peanut Butter and Jelly! 

This Duck is going to bed..... tomorrow brings new clients and Life on Mars-America along with solutions. 

I love you, whoever you are. Really I do. And make note we are not going to that place of Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Who cares.

And note "Gum revives it flavor on the bedpost overnight!" Just kidding that's gross.

www.sweetstreetproducts.com/MiscClocks.htm

Pancreatic Cancer.

Today and the past couple weeks have been very sad for me when I received the news a dear friend of mine has stage 4 pancreatic cancer. I was in great hopes this person would have a couple years to live but as the testing moves forward I am not so sure.  In fact I am afraid.  How dare I be afraid?  Your right.  It's my time to be strong for this person, not afraid.  Well fuck that!  I am afraid for this person and for me and so many others.  

My person has never been in love in their six decades on earth. They have been married, have children, had their own business's, own a beautiful large home in the country, spend a lot of time creating beautiful landscaping projects.  Have a grandchild.  And fell in love recently with someone in the midst of a divorce.  They both found a precious love in one another.  They have communicated for over a year with no copulation.  Kisses, Kindness, and Caring.  Meeting in dark parking lots.  Both waiting with great anticipation for the day they can begin their lives together. 

That is just some of the hours spent by my friend in the sanctuary of my friends yard.  

And then.....PAIN led to doctor calls and appointments.  An ultra sound.  Results put on MyChart.  My friend read their future on the cold computer.  Lesions in the liver and tail of the pancreas.  Doctor call later in day saying in a frantic voice: 

 "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."   

Then a call later offering an appointment for a CT.  Nothing further from any doctors. 

CT day comes and my friend is sitting in the waiting room drinking white liquid and instructed to take an hour to do the above.  My friend texted me saying "AFRAID! And I dont even have a fucking doctor!" And that was the truth.  After several hours back home she received more My Chart news.  Metastasized from pancreas to liver to lungs. And no phone call.  Just a death sentence online.   Guess that is what our medical system has come to?  Our political system is in the shitter as well. 

Let me also say another dear friend just lost her husband unexpectedly to a rare disease.  It was expected but not so soon!  After 54 years together. And now this.  Its not that our age isn't appropriate for such incidents, it's that I was not prepared.  Who ever is! 

This has affected my life in the living realm. I recently ended a near six year relationship with someone I dearly loved.  There are days I feel tremendous guilt for my part in the ending mostly due to a severe attitude adjustment regarding life and death.  Not because it shouldn't have ended, but because of how it did.  Love isn't hurting another person. I lived by that until the end......Just shoot me that now I have to live with the fact I didn't live by my own values!! It may have been deserved but no matter!!  And should I die before I wake, it's too late.  

Back to the point at hand on the keyboard.  I have offered to make "Life Books" for the grandchild and the love my friend will leave behind.  I am angry at the loss that hasn't happened yet.  I am angry at the love unfulfilled.  Most of us dont get the chance to find it.  I lost it last year in the living and my friend is losing it to death. To something unknown. How dare I ever be afraid of a clanking MRI tube again.  How dare I ever be afraid of one damn thing again.  BECAUSE IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE PERFECT. IT CAN JUST BE WHAT IT IS.   Life.  Never throw Love away if there is an ounce of it left.  Loss is a bitch.  Dead or Alive.  There is a REWARD.  Savor it for your time may be limited on this earth.  

Maybe tomorrow I will write something more uplifting.  Today I cant do that. 

 This photo of me was taken in December of 1987.  My fiancé bought it for me as a Christmas gift along with a very large diamond ring securing his future and killing mine, for a time anyway.  

I am a very sentimental person meaning I keep things forever that are meaningful to me or maybe someone else.  I kept my little girls best dresses in case she ever had a little girl.  I kept this beautiful nightgown and robe in my possession since that day.  Brand name is ENTICE by Bill Tice.  I googled it and found it to be VINTAGE on Etsy.  The robe goes for $13.00.  I was disappointed in the value for I had hoped something I had kept that long for no  real reason would be of greater value.  Nope, Nadda.  Junk. Four decades old junk.  Until today when my ten year old going on twenty visited me for a sleepover.

She loves to dig through all my shoes I no longer wear.  My makeup I no longer wear much of, my jewelry I no longer wear much of, and everything in my refrigerator which is fine. To my surprise she came out of the bathroom with a big Ta-Da! 

"Nana look at me!"  She was twirling around like a Princess. In fact she twirled so hard she went down and immediately back up she came dancing around like a Queen. She redid her hair over and over to look pretty for the picture shoot in her Nana's and Grandfathers memories.  Just hope that outfit didn't retain any old demons it sort of stands for.  Maybe I shoudda burned it.  O'well, too late! 

I told her that her Grandfather bought that for me before her mama was born.  I didn't tell her that may have been the reason they were all born. Bwah haha!  No seriously and no I didn't tell that truth. I just didn't tell. 

When people say to clean out the clutter, sometimes its okay to keep some of it, like this pretty silky make ya feel better robe ensemble. And so the camera shoot began during the sleepover dated today.  We pulled a memory and I hope that is all from 1987 to 2021.  Time capsule.  And here is his Granddaughter enjoying his gift.  He probably charged it !  Okay sorry...dont ruin a good thing when your on a roll.

She felt so beautiful.  I am glad I kept it.  She asked me to keep it until she gets taller and can fit into it better.  I sure will precious girl.  It certainly becomes you as it did me way back when. xxoo

Will it Hurt?

 

He left his hat.  I found it.

I wore it.

Made me smell closer.

Scared me.

Will it hurt?

No, it’s a hat.

But it called to me,

And it hurt. 

(To my friends and family/don't worry, I'm good, I wrote some of these last year!)

Dating App. Profile:

 😂

My profile for the new dating app. (NOT)

I am self-sufficient, have my own business inherited from Great Gma, and Gma.  I clean other people’s toilets.

I only owe $15,036.92 cents on my five-year-old car for six more years.  

I have a wonderful family for the most part.  My son and his fiancé just moved back into my 1,000 sq. ft. apartment because they are homeless so the kitty litter is now in my bedroom. My oldest is in prison for various reasons.  My middle child has anxiety issues and lives far away, and my youngest lives close but has four children and a very busy life forty miles away.

Oh, and my mother lives close and is dying soon.  She left my crappy brother a minimum of a half a million dollars plus and me nothing. 

I come with nothing but my $525.00 social security monthly pay out.  I was married five months short of receiving the only father of my children’s SS.  Government rules you know?  The woman must stay for ten years no matter what to receive SS for putting up with “Big Dick” for 9 years and 7 months.  I didn’t get the memo saying “STAY FOR 4 MORE MONTHS!”

I haven’t dated but once in the past twenty-two years.  I kept that date for five and a half years.  I stopped it after learning I was being abused all that time.  At least my car has a new battery and tires. He bought me those before he left.

I have been married three times and it wasn’t my fault.

I am very intelligent and I am only twelve pounds overweight all in the middle. Obviously, I look like a tree. But I hide it well like I hide the big toe nail fungus.   My breasts are not huge so they don’t hang down too far. I have RLS so sometimes my thin legs jump half the night away.  I should try playing music maybe they would at the least jump to a beat.  

I am fairly healthy except I have cancer.  And all my lady parts and some random parts are sliding down the shoot and need a total take out and tie up.  Major they say. I only pee myself when I stand up, lay down, laugh, cough, or slightly move. Oh, and I have fungus in my two big toenails.  Shit.

My teeth are pretty good, most of the back ones are gone so no worries there.

My dog died so there are only two cats left who only peuck on the carpet once every couple days. 

I believe in God but I talk to the dead-on occasion when I visit cemeteries. Or if they wake me up in the middle of the night.

I am allergic to all milk products so going out for dinner is a challenge.

I can cook but not very well because I don’t like oil or spices.

I can only have sex standing up due to severe spinal stenosis L4 L5.   

I am terrified of water and motorcycles and airplanes so travel is questionable. 

I have a bit of ADD.  Adult attention deficit disorder.  I’m good except I interrupt on occasion.

I drink alcohol for I believe it to be the solution, not the problem.

I also have OCD.  I count.  I count steps I am going up, not down.  I count items going into the washing machine.  I must spray a cleaning solution 20 times. Sometimes I can make myself stop at 12 or 16.

And I have no Life Insurance. Actually, I barely have health insurance at all. A cheap plan.

I can sing well but due to a surgery in the past there is one note I miss every time. I can draw portraits.  I can write mystery novels and love stories. I can dance.  I can listen unless I must interrupt or I will forget my impending words.  And I can’t walk very far.  I am old. 

If you believe all that I will write more tomorrow.  

My First Novel on Amazon: LOVE AFTER LIFE

 My first NOVEL out on AMAZON   and at Barnes and Noble online

Excerpt page 84:

The Prince and the Princess.............by Julianna Rowe

 

Once Upon a Time......deep in the forest of life there was.... hiding in a room all alone a greenish brown frog. He lived by himself with the exception of a few of his frog brothers and sisters who visited on occasion.   They all knew he was "The Great Storyteller" of the family.  Some of them ignored him but others relished in his creative drama about everything from his adventures outside to his meeting a cute little frog next door.  The Ugly Frog loved being the center of attention.  Friends called him "The Great Pretender."  That being a fact he would make up stories for his frog friends and family that made him a bigger frog then all the rest. The only problem was his stories were gossip. And they were not happy stories. He would talk about one frog brother when the other frog brother wasn't there.  Mr. Ugly Frog would talk about anything and anybody just to be the top Frog in the room. And when he went out and about, he strutted like a Big Dog Frog. He wore his finest vest and most expensive cologne. Smiled at all the ladies, yet he walked alone.

 Big Dog Frog didn't really have much confidence in himself and by strutting and telling his tall stories he hoped no one would notice.  But they did anyway.

 

 

One day Mr. Ugly Frog was taking his garbage out to the garbage hole in the yard where it fermented and grew the best worms and bugs for everyday holiday dinners.  That is the day Mr. Ugly Frog bumped into the Princess. She was dancing in the yard and singing the most beautiful tunes he had ever heard. He stood there with his mouth hanging open enamored by her beauty.  She reached down and touched his head as she giggled and twirled about.  Mr. Ugly Frog was immediately smitten.  And then she did something strange.  Something he had never experienced in his Ugly Frog life.  She bent all the way down to the ground and gently lifted him into her hand, raised him up and looked directly into his large ugly eyes as she kissed his forehead with a love that made him shiver, quiver and quake.  He closed his eyes and breathed in the one and only time he had ever felt truly loved and cared for.

 Suddenly yet gently there was a flash of light. With his eyes still closed he suspected he was dreaming or had died and moved to the next life phase. But when he opened his eyes, he was standing face to face with the beautiful Princess who then kissed his handsome delicious lips.  It was as though he had never been the ugly frog.  The ugly frog still lived in his mind but he totally dismissed and chose to forget because he was now the handsome Prince.

 Princess Pia took him by the hand leading him to the large pond on the other side of the property.  She told him to look down into the magic water.  He did and he gasped at his own handsomeness.  He started asking who he was and where he came from.  Princess Pia told him not to worry or think on such things rather to enjoy his new gifts. Her included.

 She adored him. She baked him his favorite pastries and pies.  She sewed his clothing from beautiful fabric from abroad. She read stories to him and held him when he had bad dreams from a past, he couldn't recall. She washed his face with the warmth of fresh clean cloths laced with pure love.  When her hands passed over his body, he could sense all negative vibrations leave and pure energies come in.  She doted over him like a mother might dote over a child.  For he was but a child mentally.  She was trying to help him grow through pure love and honor.  But so many times Mr. Ugly Frog would come forth from his mind and speak unforgivable words to her.  He would leave her alone when she needed him.  He would tell the help at the mansion she didn't treat him well. How she was selfish and had an anger problem among other things. He had made a lot of progress in learning but he remained prideful and unable to experience humbleness or empathy for others.

 Yet Princess Pia continued to love him unconditionally until one day she got sick.   Very sick.  She needed him.  It was his turn to give back but he couldn’t. The prince had given her many nice gifts, but not his heart. He was so afraid if he gave too much he would end up somewhere he couldn't remember.  Back in "Ugly Frog Ville." So he kept his heart hidden allowing a very strong evil force to have control inside his mind.  Princess Pia was sent to "raise" him up and he was sent to help her get through a very difficult time in her and their lives.  At times he was able to honor his new role in life.  He didn't realize he was being selfish with his heart. Rather he thought he was defending his honor. Love isn't defending your own honor rather it encourages growth.  It isn't perfect. But real true love is the best thing that will ever happen to you. Most will never meet the one person that really loves them let alone surrender love in return. The Handsome Prince didn't have what it took to save Princess Pia and she didn't have what it took to save herself and him.

 She passed away and he shriveled back down into Mr. Ugly Frog but this time he was "blessed" with a life lesson on pride.  We all live and die by our choices.  They both lost in the end.  💔

Panic Attack! by Julianna Rowe

Panic Attack!  

I had a busy day, errands, car wash, drove an extra twenty miles to get less expensive kitty litter at the Farm store. Humm.  Got home, unloaded all and put away.  Came into my office to check on emails and other computer related issues.  I sat down at my desk where the window to the outer world is two feet from my face. That being said it would mean if there were any activity in or around said window I would not be able to ignore it. There was definitely activity!

Before I share what I was watching let me tell you why my eyes shed a few crocodile tears as I viewed the anxiety ridden scene before me.  

I am a nurturer/caretaker by birth.  I dabble in numerology and the energies of my name and date of birth told me what I have proven to be true all my life, that I am a caretaker.   I save everyone and everything in my sight and within my power to do so.  Sometimes to my own detriment.  Been trying to learn I am more important than other peoples problems, but so far it hasn't worked.  I recall in grade school always taking up for the kid getting bullied.  I saved rescue animals, dying plants, I was a foster parent, a Hospice volunteer, oh and I rescued MEN too!  But none of those were freaking out in front of me at the window.  Nope...this time it was no different than all the other times yet the same.  I was about to try to save something that could hurt me AS USUAL. And once again I dove right in but not before some real serious tears being shed.  Why?

You see I have lived with anxiety at different levels off and on all my life.  It can be very debilitating. So I understood what Mr. Wasp was feeling.  Sounds crazy I know, but truth. 

 I was viewing a very large WASP  who had gotten "himself" stuck between the screen and the inside window pane.  He wasn't doing the standard walking slowing around the edges searching for an exit. Oh No! This WASP was FRANTIC! He was anxiety ridden as he flew desperately from the top to the bottom, nudging corners and edges wildly in fast motion.  I could honestly feel his fear and his feeling of being trapped forever and dying.  This WASP was smarter than the average WASP.  As I watched him I kept voicing I was going to help him and to hang on.  I hadn't yet figured out how I was going to do this good deed.

Saying that meant I had to open the window a smidge which meant this very upset large WASP could get into my home and harm me just like some of my other rescues had done.  Those tears were not only from feeling the WASP 's frantic terror but my own past shit shows.  

Never the less..... I had to save him from his impending death considering it was HOT and the sun was bearing down on him fast on his self made prison. It reminded me of a dog stuck in a hot car.  

I proceeded to carefully open the window just enough to stick my little blue twelve inch ruler under the rim while quickly punching out the corner of the screen while Mr. Big WASP was up at the top freaking the H out.  Told you he was a smart one.  He instantly knew there was an opening and he shot straight down and OUT the little escape hatch I offered.  Now I can only hope there is WASP KARMA for me next time one lands on me.  The WASP community owes me.  And I owe the landlord a new screen.    I always have to pay out somehow when I help others.  It's okay, WASP is free, didn't get baked and die today.  One Lucky fellow.

Because He Moved Away:

 

                                 I wrote this some time ago.  Playing catch up with my blog posts.        

                                Could I Have This Dance?  See YouTube Ann Murray to the right.

 

I beat my desk.

I scream at the other drivers.

I kick the cat? Only in my mind.

I slam the door.

I cry for dropping a jar.

Why?

I don’t know. 

Because I can.

Because I am alone.

Why?

Because he moved away.

But I still have my cat!

 

Only ONE No Good Bad Day! By Julianna Rowe

 

As I pondered the reflection of myself in the mirror I saw a stranger in my own eyes.  I wanted to run away, look away, not feel, not know, and not listen to whoever I or she was and whatever I or she was thinking while I continued anyway.  Looking deeper into her golden brown eyes.  Who was she?  Who is she?  It is supposed to be me, one person with one reflection, but it is two. The mouth seems to be mine but the eyes to her soul aren’t mine.  She doesn’t shine from within anymore. Gently her tears fall one by one as her soul floods sadly and slowly from within. 

Whose eyes are those if not mine? A worn-out soul? A battered heart? Lines from painful years of misjudgment criss-cross “her” face.  Pain dulls the old sparkle she used to give to anyone within seeing distance. Now I see doubt.  Indecision.  Fear. There is no comfort in her eyes.  She tries to smile through a spirit that has given in; to letting life make her decisions. She is more than the reflection. She is trying to tell me we need to come together to bring back the old vivacity. That she cannot do it alone. She feels unequipped. Unbalanced.  Her neck is tight. Her brain is privately frozen. If she died today it would not be a finished work of art, rather a canvas with splashes of bright yellow happiness under black splatters of ink suppressing much of the shining light beneath.  Damn those that take away, or did they? Is she rather a product of a scabillion cells from a cotillion ancestors who lay dormant in the vast Universe waiting for one human to evolve past all theirs and her bad cells on her own?  Or is she simply at an impasse of her own making? Trapped in a room with no locked door, yet a strong magnetic translucent veil resembling a thick liquid and waving like a flag emanating freedom hindering any escape from the self-made prison…. in lockdown. 

 Just a momentary glitz.

Tomorrow it will all be better, it always is.  

America, Someone's Nightmare?

 

                                   America, Someone's Nightmare?     By Julianna Rowe

 

I held my sister as she died in my arms.  Drive by shooting. Alesha stared at me with her deep brown dying eyes as life drained from her body.  I felt her bloodied flesh filled with terror turn to peace as her life stopped and her spirit ascended to a new world.  Mama wanted to take her from me and hold her but she didn't. She knew Alesha was right where she belonged in my arms.  Papa wanted to run into the streets and kill all the gang members that had hurt so many in our little town and now had murdered his sweet daughter Alesha.

The following day mama and papa decided it was time to flee our home country.  It had become unsafe to leave our house for food, work, and or any reason at all.  We were starving mentally and physically due to the fear instilled by the gangs.  Papa had saved some money hidden behind one of the bricks that held our lives safe from the elements but not safe from the thieves that had taken over our country.  Papa knew it was time to run for our lives.

We buried our sweet sister and daughter in the dirt that surrounded the home we had always felt secure in until recently.  Papa wrapped her in the blanket mama had made for her when she was an infant.  I begged papa to cover her face with it because I could barely stand to see the brown sand and dirt cover and fill her beautiful brown eyes.  For months my mind had the reoccurring thought of my sweet sister and best friend rotting under the dirt covered with bugs and worms.  It was nearly more than I could bare but I had no one to confide in.  There was no way I could tell mama or papa what my mind’s eye was seeing. As surely as their minds eye was seeing the same thing but my small time on earth didn’t allow me to realize that.  I had to deal with losing my best and only friend alone.

We had no choice but to leave Alesha behind. All I could think of was her under the ground and alone as we left the only home, we had ever known fleeing our once beloved country that had now been overrun with bandits, thieves, and murderers. In the dead of night, we moved as quickly as possible praying baby Huey wouldn't wake the evil men before we got far enough away to feel safe.

I and my infant brother followed my parents for over one thousand miles to find a better life.  Looking back on it now I can't imagine how we made it.  We took the clothes on our backs, each a backpack with water, some food, diapers, toothbrushes, soap, one change of underwear and only a blanket for myself and baby Huey.  No coats as the weather we were traveling in was very warm.  Oh, and the money papa had saved behind the brick wall was taking us to a new and safe life, in America.

The walking was treacherous.  By the time we had traveled halfway across dirt, rocks, and clay, our shoes had lost most of their soles just as we were losing our life souls as well. The walk was long, hard, and hot and the only thing that kept us going was hope and fear of not being murdered by the merciless gangs back home.  The land of freedom was ahead....no one shooting, robbing, and killing us in our own homes.  We had escaped Hell.  Not that the thousand-mile walk wasn't a Hell of its own but again faith kept us going toward the land of the free.

I was a young boy who was having to grow up fast in a cruel, dangerous, frightening, world.  I was surrounded by other children and grownups all of us physically filthy on a journey to somewhere better than where our lives had been.  Our only comparison was from what we knew before the raids on our homes began. 

Yet the death of my sister haunted me every step of my own personal small adult journey. I talked to Alesha what seemed like every minute of every step we took.  I worried about her alone in the dirt with the bugs.  Maybe they would comfort her?  All I knew was my bad scary life was over as I knew it but this wasn't much better even though my papa told me we were walking toward a new world of all good things.  A place where no one would hurt us anymore.  America.

Or, so we thought.

Airport to Other Dimentions by Julianna Rowe

 

AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS …. By Julianna Rowe  

                 I am usually in full control of my whereabouts as well as my surroundings at all times. My mind seemed intact as far as I could tell, yet something was certainly amiss.

I was on a small girl’s Schwinn bicycle in the middle of a dark pasture of thick four-inch weeds and grass.   Being of adult stature it was genuinely hard pumping the pedals of that little green bike yet for some strange reason I continued without questioning.  I kept looking behind for my dog Allie but all I could make out was my cat and an instinctive mentality to continue forward to nowhere.    

It was then out of the dark graphite emptiness I saw the two-aluminum saucer like objects each sheltering one bright light about ten feet apart. They appeared similar to on old farm yard lamp or what baby chicks were kept under for warmth at the fair.  Then without a sound I witnessed from some alien world a plane that resembled a small version of a B-52 Bomber using the same aluminum sheltered lights as they guided it to land on the makeshift runway.  I leaped off what seemed to be my childhood bike and began running alongside it through the dense weeds and grass.  It’s luminous landing was commanding my total attention. And then it vanished from sight. I searched the field and barely found it a longer distance away in a misty area.  It was as though it were still there in another dimension I couldn’t cross into. 

                Right ahead of me was an old familiar farmhouse.  My Father was standing outside the back entry facing the landing field.  He acted as though he had also seen something passing through and now still hovering. Or was it he knew? Then he turned toward me and with soulless eyes motioned for me to come.

The woman of the house was at the kitchen table for only moments until she and the table simply faded away disappearing into the night.   She never returned from the darkness like the old man, the cat, and the middle-aged man did.  I don’t think she wanted to return to fix anything.  The others had a need to return or had they never left?

                I entered the once familiar kitchen.  A middle-aged man stood at the sink starring.  Where the beautiful oak kitchen table with its collection of roosters that caressed its center and the surrounding wall shelves used to be was now brown piles on the floor of leftover negative mental debris. There were no table or chairs.  Lying under where each person sat over the hundred years of its existence was unforgiveness, anger, hate, malice, envy, jealousy and more that made up a toxic soup of different sizes and shapes of unfinished brown and gray dirt and dust. Bad energy.

                The man at the sink was trying to wash away the pain from his past existence there. He was hovering and I felt an emotion for him as I saw disappointment etched on his face and his bosom so full of buried emotions I wondered if he might burst.  He did not see me because he was not yet passed on.  The old man saw me and the cat riddled with fear entered the room saw me.  Poor thing was so full of fear and anxiety it fell on its back pawing at the air as though the air was going to execute her.  She appeared to be a pet of mine from the past.  I wondered why she was there.  What needed to be fixed for that old cat and what could I do? What could I do for any of them?  Why was I there? Why did I have to pump that little old bicycle so vigorously across a field of thick weeds to get to that old farmhouse full of bad memories and energies? Was I to take in or let out? Was it too late?

        And then I saw the two alien runway lights re-appear from the darkness and I heard the engines as the pilotless plane opened its throttles and “She” was gone.  My Mother was gone with unfinished business left in dark piles under the once vibrant center of the house, the kitchen table.  My Dad stood at the back stoop and watched her disappear as his once soulless eyes filled with tears, his shoulders slumped, his life with her now truly empty of all.  They had vowed till death do them part and they had honored that. But nothing more. He had waited for her and he could have gone with her but she rejected him again. This time she rejected his spirit.  I wonder where she is.  She always wanted more than him or farm life. Maybe next week she will return to late, like the others in an attempt to fix the piles of incomplete emotions left in the form of tangible earthly energy. Dirty fragments left for the next generation.

We influence others in this life. Evolve or beware of the AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS. 

Old Farmhouse Photograph by Nicodemo Quaglia

The Conversion Zone by Julianna Rowe

 

“The Conversion Zone”    by Julianna Rowe 

Rimrock Road 8:23 am CST April 23^rd, 1923   

 I stood watching the children play, the boys racing their tall tricycles and the girls dragging cloth dolls on the ground with one hand while blowing harshly on their new bird whistles with the other. I know not how I knew them or why I was there, I just was.   The children began gathering around me staring.  So, I stared back.  Children don’t get embarrassed when people don’t respond to them immediately like adults do.  But I held my ground for as long as adulthood allowed and then I exclaimed.

“What?”

They continued to stare in silence.  I was no longer embarrassed rather I was getting scared when I noticed each child had white hair and steel blue eyes that were piercing through to my soul.  Then over to the left of the small group of the children of the damned stood a man clearly surrounded in a grey mist, with dark hair and dark eyes.  He seemed to be their master. 

Where was I? Who was I? And most of all, who was the group of weird people all pointing in unison to the vast acres of land across the street.

That was when a voice spoke up saying, “That is the half a million-dollar land you lost to your sister.”

I turned so slowly it was like a scene from a slow-motion movie reel. I needed to see the losses they were all pointing out to me but when I turned all I saw were acres of dead earth possessed by more of those same children of the damned and their leader.  I spiritually connected with the money I and my family had lost to those thieves. Yet the land belonged to the dark man and his children all possessed by past and future generations who lurked upon the cold deceased estate.

One of the children caught my attention when I couldn’t help but notice her eyes changed like that of a chameleon in danger.  Her white hair turned yellow blonde and she came alive like the sun and her steely scary eyes went golden brown and shown beauty like the autumn leaves. She looked like a child version of me.  As she left the others and walked toward me, she reached for my hand and I obliged as I took hers into mine.   I knew her but I didn’t know how I knew her.  She led me away from those withering souls through a misty yellow porthole to a quiet neighborhood where the sun was bright and a feeling of freedom lifted me from the dark evil place we had left behind.  At least I hoped we had.  She then safeguarded me to a truck sitting by itself on an empty street and then she disappeared in a blink but where she had stood was left a beautiful glow of soft rainbow colors.  I quickly moved in an attempt to retrieve her as though I had lost part of me and had to get it back.  When I reached for the space where she had disappeared, all the gentle colors of who she was enveloped me, offering a peace like I had never known. Was she me in a past life? Was she an Angel warning me?  Or helping me?  I think she was me in 1923. She had come through the porthole from the fifth dimension to aid me in the loss of my family inheritance and to assist me toward a better future. 

I had been told by a spirit, before this encounter, there are twelve dimensions in all that surround our Universe. Each of the twelve are comprised of different phases of learning. Sort of like a school where you escalate according to how far you evolved during your living years.  One being the most evolved and twelve being pre-kindergarten.  I knew from the spirit man who visited me that when you pass on you carry a light.  Maybe to light your way was a guess on my part.  He told me some have brighter lights than others but they all ascend magnetically to whichever dimension they belong to continue their journey. It’s all about energy and physics. But what did all this have to do with me and the very large truck I was heading toward sitting on the very empty street?

The truck was like an army transport vehicle.  I walked around it peering at the dark green almost black color with its huge back doors latched using a long heavy metal bar.  What was inside the dreary dark machine appeared to be a moving prison. 

I was in a trans of wonder when from behind me came a man who opened the barred rear door and pushed me inside slamming it shut.  I could feel the air sucked out of me as I felt the heavy clank as the bar came down locking me inside with no escape.  Where was she?  Where was my angel, or what I thought might be the other part of me?  I needed help. I could see no escape from this horror. 

First it was the dark pied piper man and his little fleet of children of the damned with their vast fields showing me all my losses, to the little girl from somewhere who led me to the black Auschwitz on wheels!  Now I was afraid.  Fear gripped every cell in my body when abruptly a different compartment door opened and several foreign men appeared in chains.  I did not belong there and I knew it.  Why was I with these people? And then the truck began moving and a window on each side of the vehicle mechanically slid away opening the heavy metal plates to expose heavy glass windows.  I thought at the least now we could see where we were being taken.  No one spoke but me.  No one answered me, they just stared ahead, sometimes out the window, never looking at me. 

Once again, I thought they may be dead.  Why were all those dead people surrounding me? Why all this negative light around me?  I had no choice but to sit and look out the window trying to decipher what would be next. I wanted to scream with terror because I hated being locked up especially in a small area knowing I could never escape the iron walls of what had become my personal prison.  Why?  Suddenly I lost who I was or where I came from. I had lost my identity and become nothing more than those empty men who couldn’t speak for themselves, who were lost, maybe dead? Yet alive.  Like me, yes, they were like me.  I had given up after losing my inheritance and struggling to maintain life surrounded by people with no purpose, no drive, no reason to live. 

Then out the window in the midst of my trance while discovering the why’s of my situation I see the ocean ahead.  It was coming closer and closer as was my terror.  I had always had a fear of going into the water in a locked vehicle and there it was coming to fruition I feared.  The truck sped up and I knew this was the end.  I didn’t have time to think on whether my light would be bright or dim or what dimension I would end up in or how much I would suffer or how fast the water would come in.  Would I float as high as I could get to the ceiling begging for one more breath of air struggling just as I had before this day working, toiling to make ends meet, striving for one more breath to keep living?  Not seeing there was a way out but I didn’t take it.  Afraid to take it. 

And then we were airborne!  We flew off the edge of a cliff and were descending like a rock toward the ocean floor.   I was dizzy from agonizing paralyzing fear.  The men didn’t move because they had given up on life but I hadn’t.  That is when she appeared again pointing to the window.  The little me from 1923 telling me there was a way out and it wasn’t as hard as I had thought. 

I turned, pushed on the window pane as though time had stood still and gravity was not in force.  The window popped out more easily than it should have been possible to do. (That is usually how it is but we can’t always see it.)  Centrifugal force pulled me out in a nano second of time!  I was free flying toward the water…….

I woke up from that dream screaming and crying.  Then laughing out loud at the wonderment of the Universe to give me a dream so vivid it relayed to me what was happening in my own life and how to rectify it.   There is always HOPE and HELP from the Universe to get us through our down times and back to the sunshine and smiles.

Thank you to my own spirit and that of the others who came to my earthly rescue through that amazing dream.  It was given to me in the form of a spiritual movie.  Sort of like there are two different ways to learn mathematics.  Earth and Spirit. I was told I need to balance them more.  Not forget the Spirit because I can’t see my answer in the flesh.   And to always look beyond for your answers.  I got my humor and my direction back!

Chose Your Veil:

 

Choose Your Veil:

There is a beautiful white flowing veil between my head and my heart.

There is a thick blood red curse flowing there also;

The veils fluctuate between my senses and my desires,

The veils sway pretending passion between my legs and my eyes of reality.

The veils smuggle my laughter into tears, between jokes and ridicule.

The veils blindside me between my future and my now.

The veils waver between lonely and unlonely.

The veils vibrate between being abused and protected.

They “lie” between being abandoned and cherished (supported).

The veils ambush me between my logic and reason.

The veils slither like Satan between my life or my death.

Choose your veil.