Freedom from the Drone/Hive Mentality

On March 9, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, Abuse, African American Queen, African Goddess, cacophony, Catharsis, DeBorah, deception, Deliverance, Delusions, despair, Dissonance, Domestic Violence, Dreams, Drone, Ethiopian Goddess, Fantasy, Fears, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Goddess, Hive, Instability, Koyaanisqatsi, Photographs, Pictures, profane, Protean, Ritual, Sacred, Scars, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Suffering, Surrealism, Tattoos, Vision Quest, Visions

Freedom from Drone/Hive Mentality

Spiritual Spring Cleaning: “Purge items and photos that remind you of destructive people or forces, which perpetuate negative life-story patterns. Spring is a great season to begin a new chapter, but you’ll need a blank page to get started.” — Bajay Pitter

Strategies for Deliverance

I love seeing formerly battered and abused women go from victims to Victory. Being a survivor of domestic & sexual violence I can relate to the pain and sufferings of women trying to escape abusive relationships. Even after being delivered from my abuser physically it still took a long time to be delivered mentally and emotionally. I’m still on the road to complete deliverance but at least I’m further down the road than 6 years ago.

The pain is there. It’s real. I’ve learned I must speak my pain but not to dwell within the pain. I must not make a home inside the pain. One of the ways to move past that pain is to destroy any reminders from that time period. I kind of had a waiting to exhale moment. No, I didn’t burn up his clothing but whatever he left inside my house went into the garbage that included clothing, computer junk, his old business cards, anything related to his pigeon hobby, and any photographs of him.

I especially found destroying the pictures to be a type of Cleansing Ritual. It was therapeutic because I was symbolically as well as physically removing my abuser from my life. It was the first step towards healing. I can remember during the time I was with my abuser I went to a Women’s Retreat with my church. One of the things our Pastor’s Wife had us do was to write our fears or challenges down on little strips of paper and throw them into a fireplace. Fire represents a form of purging and casting photos of the abuser along with the bitter memories into the flames is cathartic. Think of it as conducting our own personal “Burning Man” ritual. Of course depending on where you live and if you live in a house or an apartment it may not be practical to build a bonfire in the backyard or sacrifice our kitchen stoves at the risk of violating our city’s ordinances or creating pyrotechnics worthy of Mrs. O’Leary’s bovine arsonist.

A safer and less risky ceremony would be to take every picture of your abuser and run them through the shredder. This would accomplish the same fulfillment which is to banish this person as much as possible from your life. Now for me it was easier because we only had a common-in-law marriage and did not have children together. For those ladies who have property and children in common with the abuser this might become more difficult but still doable. If there are children involved I’d save two or three photos for the children to have once they become adults but I’d place those pictures in a safe deposit box or a strong box located in the basement, attic or a close family member or friend’s home to give the kids an opportunity to decide what they feel and make their own personal decisions upon reaching adulthood.

The objective is to begin the process of purification. Wash away the slime, filth and dirt off our bodies and out of our lives. To arise from the ashes like the Phoenix reborn, renewed, and ready to rebuild our lives. Today take up the shattered pieces of your life and build something brand new. A new beginning. A new identity created and defined by you not your abuser or outside detractors and naysayers.

Phoenix arising from the Ashes — Phoenix Arising from the Ashes

Graduate from the School of Hard Knocks don’t take up residence there. Resistance is not futile. Do not be assimilated into the Hive. Our identities and self-worth do not reside within another person but within us. The power to become free resides within us.

There is a Reset button to life. Not to move us back to before our relationship with the abuser but now knowing the signs, how not to be so needy to return to those destructive relationships. How can I Love myself and build up myself so I can attract healthy romantic relationships. Of course none of this freedom is won overnight.

There will still be days of doubt, fear, and frustration but those are the days when we reach out to our support group, our inner circles for help and reassurance that in time everything will work out.

Today I release myself from the Island of Lost Souls back into the solace of self and community.

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Fifty Fabulous and Fifty Fantastic Freedoms

On March 8, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, African Goddess, Carnal, Dreams, Erotic, Judges 4: 4-5, Judges 5: 7, Menopause, Native American, Tattoos

Fifty Fabulous-Fifty Free

My 54^th Birthday this past Feb. 27^th turned out to be much better than I had ever wished. I have to admit four years ago when I entered the fifth decade of my life that after the initial thrill of turning the Big 5-0 that if struck me that I had made it to the half century point in my life. Questions posed themselves in my mind as to what that meant to be a woman in her 50s. Then came a time of troubles—health challenges. Commands that my body easily obeyed at 25 seemed to take a hellava lot longer now. Suddenly I had a new “boyfriend” named Arthur Itis. He woke me up in the morning. Followed me around all day long and keep me company at night. In fact he was more attentive than guy I’d ever known. Creaking joints Snapped, Crackled and Popped more than a bowl of Rice Krispies. I qualified for the titled of middle-aged Transformer. However by communicating with Transformers I’ve found ways to lessen the effects of that ill-mannered fellow Arthur and one day I hope to banish him completely from my life in favor a lover who inflicts less physical pain.

A few days after my Birthday I learned that my former company The Reader’s Digest is undergoing a Chapter 11 Reorganization. I received a letter in the mail to this effect which indicated phone numbers to call for more information. I learned will be able to collect my Reader’s Digest pension next year when I turn 55. Also I will be able get my annuity from United Way of New York City. Suddenly getting older is looking better and better each day. Now I’m counting down to February 27, 2014!!

Let’s face it money is a tool that gives us access to more options. Retirement. Once something way off in the distant future is a short five or six years away for me now. Pensions, annuities, retirement, together all mean freedom to pursue my passions, goals, and my deepest heartfelt desires with the means and time to do so. Doing my Happy Dance! Perhaps depending on the amount of money I receive I will be able to stop working full-time and just take a part-time job. More time to engage with my writing, my art, and my photography. More choices. Life rapidly expands to 55 flavors, way more than Baskin-Robbins without the stomach upset!! LOL!! A new confidence has arisen within my soul. Hell yeah!! It’s time for another Tattoo maybe an additional piercing to celebrate this great Victory!!

Fifty-Five is the magic number for pensions, annuities and senior housing. I’m not sure if you knew this but you can apply for Senior Housing in New York City at age 55. I plan on doing this next year. Now all my dreams are doable. I see light at the end of the tunnel. Next year I could actually travel on my vacation instead of staying home. Hallelujah!!

Another blessing in disguise is kind of silly but I’ll share it anyway. I’ve finally gone one entire year without having a menstrual cycle which means I’m now officially in Menopause. No more periods. No babies. No need to use birth control, of course I stopped using birth control years ago, but if I do meet a nice gentleman I no longer have to worry about becoming pregnant! Yeah!! Hip! Hip!! Hooray!! Naturally until I meet the right man I’ll continue to be celibate. Another good thing about being a woman in her 50s is that I’m no longer controlled by my libido or my hormones. I’ve become more selective and celibacy is an option that I will continue to embrace while still finding joy with my physical body and my enhanced sexuality as an older woman.

Financially Free, sexually free with time to engage in meaningful activities and relationships. Being in my 50s does not mean less than but more than ever. An elevation to a higher level of living. A greater share in life’s blessings.

Hello Kitty's Night Job — Hello Kitty’s Night Job

DeBorah Ann Palmer
Espiritu en Fuego — A Fiery Spirit Expressing Herself
https://dancingpalmtrees.wordpress.com

A Call to Witness

http://www.acalltowitness.com
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A Building at Rest — An Ode to the Medieval and Lehman Wings

On November 23, 2012 By dancingpalmtreesIn Catharsis, Creativity, Dreams, Explore, Fantasy, Goddess, Images, Innovation, Inquisitive, Inscriptions, Knowledge, Museum, Protean, Sacred, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Surrealism, Thanksgiving, Vision, Vision Quest, Visions

A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012 –
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from over 140 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from a Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Throes of Spiritual Passion — Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasm

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Vanities of Aging ~ Confronting Mid-Life Challenges

On August 25, 2012November 17, 2012 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, Africa, African American Queen, Catharsis, Creativity, Dark Skin, Dreams, Ecclesiastes, Edward Palmer, Ethiopian Goddess, Fantasy, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Goddess, Images, Innovation, Inquisitive, Inscriptions, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Menopause, Mid-Life, Sacred, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Surrealism, Tattoos, Vanity, Visions, Wisdom2 Comments

The Vanities of Aging

Confronting Our Mid-Life Challenges

Ecclesiastes 1:2

Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.

Three years ago I experienced the thrill of turning 50. For me any birthday with a zero behind it was a special occasion. Each new decade signaled a new chapter in my life, a new beginning of sorts. I remembered when I turned 40 my Aunt Helen lovingly expressing to me the old adage, “Life begins at 40!” For me it really did. My 40s were a decade of singular accomplishments. I earned my B.A. at age 43; I reached a high level on the earning ladder at my then workplace; I was at my physical and sexual peak as a woman; and I had a new sassiness and vibe that enabled me to reach new heights on that climb to success.

My 50^th birthday was exciting with friends taking me out to dinner, a beautiful birthday cake, balloons, flowers; but after the celebration was over a certain uneasiness set in. “Wow. I’ve lived over half my life.” The career I had carefully developed had hit a brick wall. In fact I seemed to hit a plateau in terms of career success. Then came “The Change”. I was not prepared. For puberty my mother and I had “The Talk”. However as I entered menopause my mother was long since gone on to her Heavenly reward and during this frightening period of my life my last link to the past, my beloved Aunt Helen passed away. I missed my Mom and my aunts terribly. Then horrible things were happening to my body that I did not understand. I sought explanations and some assistance from various GYNs. Their answers usually involved some sort of hormonal treatments which I instantly rejected since both my parents died from cancer. I decided I would just endure the deluge of sweat that engulfed my body day and night, drenching my clothes and making sleep impossible.

Of course I tried all types of holistic treatments. I do believe I’ve been through every herb and natural juices offered in the health food store. Nothing. No effect at all. I’ve decided it’s best to stay near the A.C., turn the fan on at night and keep bottled water with me at all times.

Menopause is an evil creature. She brought along her friends high blood pressure and arthritis to add to my daily pain and discomfort. Yes, this certainly was a ‘Change of Life’. Everything changed in my life, my diet, my ability to go up and down stairs without stopping for breath, the increased popping and cracking in my joints. I kind of felt like a human Rice Krispies, “Snap, Crackle, & Pop.” My mind was just as sharp and creative as it was at age 25 but I could not get my body in agreement with my mental desires.

But I told myself that I still had my good looks. Thanks to a fantastic gene pool and being a dark skinned African American Woman the saying, “Black don’t crack” is really true. Mind you this proverb only works if you took care of yourself when you were in your 20s, 30s and early 40s. I never smoked, did not do drugs, and only drank socially. I also exercised albeit moderately which kept me in fairly good physical condition. I’m also lucky that most of my family tend to be small people so I’ll never gain an extreme amount of weight.

However specific physical changes cannot be avoided. By the time I was 52 all my hair had turned white, seemingly overnight. Finally one day when I overheard a co-worker described me as the African-American lady with the white hair I knew I had to do something. The bubble burst. Reality set in. Oh My God! I look old! This would never do.

After conferencing with several women co-workers I decided upon L’Oreal Feria. First I started out brown because I had read that going back to my original color of black would just make me look hard and emphasize any lines my face might have. Finally I went red, no not Kool-Aid red like some of the pop stars but a spicy Fire Engine Red that matched my fiery personality. This was the time of my life to really experiment. After 40 more of the free spirit in me came out. I got tattoos on a yearly basis. Sometime after I turned fifty I had my belly button pierced but then my belly played a trick on me and I developed that menopausal belly bulge that comes to nearly all 50+ women.

Was this a chase after lost youth? No because I’ve always been a non-conformist. My parents were Free-Thinkers and they brought me up to be my own person. I remember when I decided to spike my hair back when I was in my 20s. My Dad thought I looked so wonderful that he took pictures of me and had them blown up to poster size. My parents support and encouragement fostered in me a self confidence that has enabled me to survive a multitude of challenges. It has given me a sustaining power. My mother and father always encouraged my creativity and insisted that I think for myself not just follow the script handed to us by society in general.

For me the next 50 years will be a celebration of maturity and individuality with lots of creativity and a little bit of insanity thrown in for good measure.

Donations and Freewill offerings can be made directly to my PayPal account deborah.palmer280@gmail.com

Please sow into this psychological socially effective ministry

Sexy Smiley

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Jephthah’s Daughters

On July 14, 2012July 14, 2012 By dancingpalmtreesIn Ambien, Battle, Black Unicorn, Bridge, Cat fights, Catharsis, Cathay Williams, Delusions, Dreams, Ebonics, Education, Edward Palmer, Elements of Style, Ethiopian Goddess, Eurydice, Eyesight, Facial Hair, Family History, Family Tree, Fantasy, Fears, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Genetic lineage, Gifted & Black, Goddess, Grace Slick, Green tea, grief, Hallucinations, Hamlet, Health Food Stores, Henry V, homeless veterans, Hood Stories, horror, Hypnos, Icelus, Images, Inscriptiona, Inscriptions, Insomnia, Instability, Intellectualism, Jacob's Ladder, Jesus, Kinky/Nappy Hair, Knowledge, Koyaanisqatsi, Law of Attraction, Loss, Love, Lyrical Family Memories, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Madonna, Manufacturered Reality, Maternal lineage, Menopause, Midnight Marauder, Mind Altering Substances, mitochrondrial DNA, Morpheus, Mother, Mozambique, Mystical Creatures, Native American, Nature, New Age, Night Bird, Night Sweats, Nightmares, Nirvana, Noah's Ark, Ohio, Oneiroi, Orpheus, Paradise, Phantaso, profane, Protean, protest, Redemption, Rejection, River Styx, Romance, Royalty, Sacred, Sages, Scars, sci-fi, Sexual Fantasy, Shakespeare, Sherlock Hollmes, Short Stories, Skeptic, Songs of Solomon & Sheba, sorrow, soul, soup kitchen, Soy milk, Spirit, Spirituality, Squatters, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, Surrealism, Tattoos, The Secret, Thracian King, Trail of Tears, Understanding, Vision, Vision Quest, Visions, wage slave, War, Wisdom

Jephthah’s Daughters.(Click here to read more)

Shall we regard our girl children as Jephthah’s Daughters? How long will we continue to perpetuate the adage, “Women love their sons, but raise the daughters.” Every child deserves the opportunity to succeed in life but success comes through accepting responsibility and learning to be accountable. Any child male or female who constantly lashes out at authority figures in a bid to always be “right” is a child bound for prison or the graveyard. Stop making girls the sacrificial lambs!!

Ladies, let’s love our girl children and stop putting them on the altar in order to save a son who does not wanted to be saved and does not think he needs help or worse some no account man who should not even be a part of our households to begin with. Let us not return to ancient times when girls and women were thought of as little more than chattel or commodities to be bought and sold. (See below for more details on ancient economies)

“One of the unusual things about the Bible is that it preserves some bits of this larger context. … It would seem that the economy of the Hebrew kingdoms, by the time of the prophets, was already beginning to develop the same kind of debt crises that had long been common in Mesopotamia: especially in years of bad harvests, the poor became indebted to rich neighbors or to wealthy moneylenders in the towns, they would begin to lose title to their fields and to become tenants on what had been their own land, and their sons and daughters would be removed to serve as servants in their creditors’ households, or even sold abroad as slaves.

“[This is what the biblical book of Nehemiah is referring to in the passage,] ‘Some of our daughters are brought unto bondage already: neither is it in our power to redeem them.’ One can only imagine what those words meant, emotionally, to a father in a patriarchal society in which a man’s ability to protect the honor of his family was everything. Yet this is what money meant to the majority of people for most of human history: the terrifying prospect of one’s sons and daughters being carried off to the homes of repulsive strangers to clean their pots and provide the occasional sexual services, to be subject to every conceivable form of violence and abuse, possibly for years, conceivably forever, as their parents waited, helpless, avoiding eye contact with their neighbors, who knew exactly what was happening to those they were supposed to have been able to protect. … http://www.delanceyplace.com/view_archives.php?2009

Donations to this Ministry for the Housing Fund can be made in U.S. Funds via money order or bank checks made payable to Rochdale Village Inc. 169-65 137th Avenue, Jamaica, NY 11434, Account No. 083-11G-16924 or directly to deborah.palmer280@gmail.com via Paypal. Thank you and God Bless.