dawn m. armfield
doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
spiritual phone call
010 years ago
When I associate a scent with my thoughts of you, I imagine that you have the aroma of a forest.
I can almost smell that sweet bouquet of damp leaves hidden from the sunlight for an entire winter. I call it “aspen-sweet” because of the fragrance the aspens exude in the local forest. I can also detect the “sun-scent” that clings to your skin. It’s a bit dry, somewhat heated, and has a slight tinge of muskiness with a clean wholesome natural flavor. Mountain air is the final addition. It flows from you; mostly cool like a high country evening. Occasionally, though, a warm breeze comes across with the tangy odor of pine.
When I close my eyes, I imagine your scent being as familiar to me as the beloved fragrance of my mountains: multi-layered, complex, and evolving.
You carry with you the promise of life.
I picture you traversing the deep red-orange soils of the southern deserts. Sandstone high-rises are merely challenges to you and not the obstacles most others see. They don’t deter you. You slip silently through the various shades of desert green with nary a bit from a cholla neighbor.
The night skies sing out: stars twinkling to the beat, ocotillo thorns whispering the melody, and the giant saguaros dance majestically above you.
This land is a part of you and you of it. It speaks to you, calling out to you. You hear it in your innermost thoughts.
It beckons you.
“Come home.”
quote of the day
010 years ago
I’m way too irritated to be at work today. I know I shouldn’t read my work e-mail from home but there is this stupid thing called RESPONSIBILITY that nags me if I don’t. What if I could have helped avoid a situation? What if I could have helped out just a little more?
I really hate opening e-mail from this one person who always has negative things to say. She is never nice in her e-mails. She’s always accusatory. I’m drawn to them, though. I can’t help but open them (even with dread) the moment I see them.
I opened one on Friday. Ok, I opened 4 of them. *sigh* I shouldn’t have. I was in tears that night. I’ve been full of angst most of the weekend, not wanting to come back to work because I’d have to deal with her crap.
What’s even worse is that I get into work an average of 2-3 hours before the rest of the employees. I get a lot more done at 6 a.m. than I do when people are actually here. So, now I’ve been sitting here for over an hour fretting until my boss gets in and I can talk to him about this situation.
I hate this.
***
An addendum:
My boss was totally cool about the issue. He said that it may need to go to the next higher level because this woman has systematically berated, over 2 years, the people in my department. My boss is worried about losing us because of her (he wouldn’t because we all love what we do but she does make it difficult).
I’m relieved. Whew!
–
Now that I’m done ranting… I thought I’d share something that I love.
There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest. ~ Anais Nin – Introduction to The Diary of Anais Nin, 1931-1934
***
To those of you who commented on being “damaged goods,” I appreciate your words. I think I feel less and less damaged as time goes by. I feel more wholey human precisely *because* I have experiences that have changed me and because I have grown due to those experiences. I look at myself as being more two-dimensional before. Now, I’m becoming more well-rounded, tolerant, and accepting of myself and others. It has allowed me tremendous growth. I feel like one of those fast-growing trees that sprouts several feet in one year. Spirtitually and emotionally, I have grown a lot in one year. I hope to do more in the year to come.
As for my co-worker, I don’t think she realized what she was doing or what she was saying. She’s a little old lady who is, usually, very kind and docile. Or, then again, maybe I’m making excuses. I think part of the problem is that I haven’t set boundaries before. I’m doing that now and it throws people off.
Thank you so much. Your words have meant a great deal to me. *hugs*
baring myself
210 years ago
I am in the library, waiting for the arrival of my student. I tutor a young woman of 25, the mother of 2 with a third on the way. She is Mexican, from Durango. She wants to learn to read to her children. I find that noble. It touches me to the core of my being.
—
I have a million voices inside of me screaming to be released. I have stories and thoughts and feelings that scratch at my insides. Where do I start? How do I open the steel-barred doors that hold them within?
I have a poet’s soul and the mind of a scientist. They don’t always mix well. My words tend to be stilted because the logical side of me is holding back. I want to pour my heart out; exclaim the joys and disclaim the atrocities that I witness.
It is fear; I fear failure, of not being good enough.
I want my writings to be accepted, to be well-received. I want to be noticed. I want my wit and charm — my intelligence — to shine through. I want others to be impressed, if even a tiny bit, by me.
My voice is quiet. I’m more like a mouse and I want to be an eagle. I want to soar, to fly and take in the world. I am tired of running to the nearest corner and cowering in the tiniest of cracks.
Sometimes I find bravery. I leap out of the starting gate in great form. Somehow, somewhere, I mis-step, trip, lose my place, and lag behind. I haven’t found the boldness to race ahead proudly with power and grace.
I know some are born with enough self-confidence to always charge forward. I was not that fortunate. I fight for it daily. I ask for help and have learned to lean on others – sometimes too much.
I want to be strong. I want to stand tall, with pride and self-assuredness.
This is me, naked before you, taking a step.
—
I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here,
Under the fire of the great moon.
~ Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
—
“Trust each other again and again. When the trust level gets high enough, people transcend apparent limits, discovering new and awesome abilities for which they were previously unaware.”
~ David Armistead
she is beautiful
010 years ago
I was reading a computing magazine at the library yesterday, waiting for my student to arrive, and learning about which classes I should take to finish my degree and still continue on with my in-process IT career.
She walks up, all five feet of her, long brown hair, dark brown eyes and smiles her shy smile.
I’m so pleased to see her. We have had difficulties getting together because of her recent pregnancy and delivery of a new baby girl.
She’s smart. She’s really smart. I learn from her as much as she learns from me.
We laugh. A lot. And that is good, especially now. I need to hear laughter and, I think, so does she.
We decided to try something new yesterday. We’d been reading the newspaper on the recent events and doing flash cards. But I thought it may be time for empowerment…for her to feel like she really is a driving force in all of this.
After the flash cards, which she showed me she had been working at as she pronounced her “j” and “y” correctly (not an easy feat when you’ve been pronouncing it one way your entire life and it now sounds different in the new language you are trying to learn!), I stopped and looked at her.
Her eyes shine. They sparkle. She’s incredibly beautiful. Especially when she smiles.
I asked her if she’d like to get a library card. Oh…if I could only express to you the way her face lit up…if only I could tell you how excited she got when she heard the words.
We went up to the counter to get the card. Some of the questions were difficult and she would look to me for assurances but she did wonderfully. I was so proud of her. I know it was a huge step.
We picked out a book together. It was a book on gardening. We started to read it together and then I asked her if she’d like to check it out. She nodded.
Our library has a system where you can check out books by yourself on the computer. As we slid the card under the scanner, her name popped up. I pointed it out to her and she smiled widely. We slid the book under the scanner and the printout of her due date came out. I explained to her how it worked.
“That’s it?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s that easy,” I told her. I went on to explain that if she didn’t enjoy that book, we’d pick out another. I also told her that she could bring her girls in and check out books for them.
That is why she wants to learn to speak and read better. So she can help her girls, so she can read to them (3 girls under the age of 4), and so she can help her oldest with her schooling.
Her smile grew wider.
My heart welled with what I can only describe as love.
Monday January 22, 2001
0The Weak Link
Yesterday I was talking to a friend about the roles of men and women…how many people are confused about where they belong and where they fit into a relationship.
I wrote this about a year ago because, in my family, I’m considered the sissy…the total girl…because I don’t do what everyone else does.
“Your family is one filled with strong women,” I was told.
“I am the weakest link,” I thought.
I was born to a family of hardy and stout western women for whom no challenge is too great, no fear unconquerable.
I am the sensitive one who would rather not pick up a nail gun, carry heavy loads of whatever, or even be the center of a party. Instead, I would rather sift soil between my fingertips as I lovingly plant a honeysuckle, go to a concert, or write a play.
I can do all of the things they do. I could. I’m not as physically strong as they are but I could still do it if I chose.
In addition to being physically strong, they are incredibly intelligent and beautiful. They are all comfortable with their places in life.
I, on the other hand, question myself hourly, if not minutely. I am rarely sure of myself or my actions even when I seem most possessed of self-confidence.
I’ve been told I’m brave because I’ve traveled by myself extensively and lived through some truly horrific experiences. I don’t feel brave, though. I often feel scared, alone, and very often, lost.
I don’t come from a family where those feelings are regarded as normal. I’m supposed to be stoic.
But I’m not.
the weak link
0Yesterday I was talking to a friend about the roles of men and women…how many people are confused about where they belong and where they fit into a relationship.
I wrote this about a year ago because, in my family, I’m considered the sissy…the total girl…because I don’t do what everyone else does.
“Your family is one filled with strong women,” I was told.
“I am the weakest link,” I thought.
I was born to a family of hardy and stout western women for whom no challenge is too great, no fear unconquerable.
I am the sensitive one who would rather not pick up a nail gun, carry heavy loads of whatever, or even be the center of a party. Instead, I would rather sift soil between my fingertips as I lovingly plant a honeysuckle, go to a concert, or write a play.
I can do all of the things they do. I could. I’m not as physically strong as they are but I could still do it if I chose.
In addition to being physically strong, they are incredibly intelligent and beautiful. They are all comfortable with their places in life.
I, on the other hand, question myself hourly, if not minutely. I am rarely sure of myself or my actions even when I seem most possessed of self-confidence.
I’ve been told I’m brave because I’ve traveled by myself extensively and lived through some truly horrific experiences. I don’t feel brave, though. I often feel scared, alone, and very often, lost.
I don’t come from a family where those feelings are regarded as normal. I’m supposed to be stoic.
But I’m not.
Sunday January 14, 2001
0Musical Journies
I wake up with music in my head. Songs I heard the day before waft through my sleepy brain and bring me into the day. Throughout the day, I listen to music. Lyrics, rhythms, harmonies, and melodies are filling my thoughts constantly. I can hear music within as I drift off to sleep. I love music. I can’t even image a day not filled with some sort of music.
You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you’ve housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admissionAnd the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again
I am embarking on new journeys every day. I will be traveling home for the final trip from this current California expedition later this week. I think I will miss it here. I always say I’m not a big city girl but there is something to be said for this town I’m in. I’m mere minutes from the ocean. Anything I could ever desire is only a short drive down the road. It’s almost a hard decision. On one hand, I live in a beautiful town, surrounded by so much natural beauty. I have a nice existence there. On the other hand, my life has expanded and grown while I’ve been here. I’ve hooked up with old friends I had lost touch with and have been able to make some really great business connections. I will definitely miss this place.
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I was talking to a friend about growing up poor. We were extremely poor. I remember, once, when my parents were trying to make their business grow, we didn’t have a home. We lived out of the business. My father built a loft in the back and put in the beds. Because it was a business, there wasn’t any bathtub or shower, of course, but simply a sink and toilet. We were young and my parents could make anything into an adventure for us. They bought a shiny new aluminum trash bin, the kinds you rarely see anymore on the curbs. We had a Coleman stove where my mom heated the water. We bathed in that trashcan. It went from youngest to oldest so I usually had some of the dirtiest water, being the oldest of four. We all laugh about that now. It was something we experienced together.
Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I’m diving into my own destructionSo why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don’t fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can’t tame you?but I just keep trying‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I’m on your list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I’ve never been conventional. No one could ever accuse me of that. My mother says I’m eccentric. If that is the case, eccentric means that I live my life for the sheer joy of living it. I used to think the song, Never been to me was an anthem of my life. But I don’t think that’s true. Yes, I’ve lived in many glorious and wonderful places from the western slope of Montana to the City of London to small-town America on the Colorado River. Yes, I’ve loved many men and been loved by my share of men. But I truly think that the entire journey has been one of growth. I’m single, childless, and that gives me opportunities to experience and live life in ways that others, with different responsibilities, don’t necessarily have and I choose to do that.
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
I don’t want a bad boy. I want a man. I want someone who will ride that edge with me and take me beyond. I want someone who will push the boundaries as much as I do and enjoy the pure intoxication of doing so. Am I attracted to “bad boy” types? Definitely. I love men who live outside the box and rejoice in experiencing new and exciting things. It feeds me.
So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions
I’m a mass of contradictions. Life is so rich and multi-layered, how can one not be full of contradictions? I want to explore the riches of the world and yet, still ache to be cuddled. I want to investigate the darker sides of my soul and then, turn around, and play with my puppies (these are mutually exclusive in my book! chuckle). I’m completely full of contradictions. And I make no apologies for that. It is me. I am learning that I’m tolerant of more and more discovery of my boundaries and myself as I age. I want to continue to push myself in all directions.
‘Cause I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
Share a toothbrush?you’re my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of manNo I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
I am full of energy these days. I have some wonderful projects on my plate and there doesn’t seem to be enough time in each day to complete anything. Every new moment brings on another idea. I am restless. I am pacing around, knowing something is going to happen.
And when it does, another journey will take me to new places.
I can’t wait.
musical journeys
0I wake up with music in my head. Songs I heard the day before waft through my sleepy brain and bring me into the day. Throughout the day, I listen to music. Lyrics, rhythms, harmonies, and melodies are filling my thoughts constantly. I can hear music within as I drift off to sleep. I love music. I can’t even image a day not filled with some sort of music.
You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you’ve housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admissionAnd the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again
I am embarking on new journeys every day. I will be traveling home for the final trip from this current California expedition later this week. I think I will miss it here. I always say I’m not a big city girl but there is something to be said for this town I’m in. I’m mere minutes from the ocean. Anything I could ever desire is only a short drive down the road. It’s almost a hard decision. On one hand, I live in a beautiful town, surrounded by so much natural beauty. I have a nice existence there. On the other hand, my life has expanded and grown while I’ve been here. I’ve hooked up with old friends I had lost touch with and have been able to make some really great business connections. I will definitely miss this place.
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I was talking to a friend about growing up poor. We were extremely poor. I remember, once, when my parents were trying to make their business grow, we didn’t have a home. We lived out of the business. My father built a loft in the back and put in the beds. Because it was a business, there wasn’t any bathtub or shower, of course, but simply a sink and toilet. We were young and my parents could make anything into an adventure for us. They bought a shiny new aluminum trash bin, the kinds you rarely see anymore on the curbs. We had a Coleman stove where my mom heated the water. We bathed in that trashcan. It went from youngest to oldest so I usually had some of the dirtiest water, being the oldest of four. We all laugh about that now. It was something we experienced together.
Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I’m diving into my own destructionSo why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don’t fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can’t tame you?but I just keep trying‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I’m on your list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I’ve never been conventional. No one could ever accuse me of that. My mother says I’m eccentric. If that is the case, eccentric means that I live my life for the sheer joy of living it. I used to think the song, Never been to me was an anthem of my life. But I don’t think that’s true. Yes, I’ve lived in many glorious and wonderful places from the western slope of Montana to the City of London to small-town America on the Colorado River. Yes, I’ve loved many men and been loved by my share of men. But I truly think that the entire journey has been one of growth. I’m single, childless, and that gives me opportunities to experience and live life in ways that others, with different responsibilities, don’t necessarily have and I choose to do that.
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
I don’t want a bad boy. I want a man. I want someone who will ride that edge with me and take me beyond. I want someone who will push the boundaries as much as I do and enjoy the pure intoxication of doing so. Am I attracted to “bad boy” types? Definitely. I love men who live outside the box and rejoice in experiencing new and exciting things. It feeds me.
So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions
I’m a mass of contradictions. Life is so rich and multi-layered, how can one not be full of contradictions? I want to explore the riches of the world and yet, still ache to be cuddled. I want to investigate the darker sides of my soul and then, turn around, and play with my puppies (these are mutually exclusive in my book! chuckle). I’m completely full of contradictions. And I make no apologies for that. It is me. I am learning that I’m tolerant of more and more discovery of my boundaries and myself as I age. I want to continue to push myself in all directions.
‘Cause I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
Share a toothbrush?you’re my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of manNo I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
I am full of energy these days. I have some wonderful projects on my plate and there doesn’t seem to be enough time in each day to complete anything. Every new moment brings on another idea. I am restless. I am pacing around, knowing something is going to happen.
And when it does, another journey will take me to new places.
I can’t wait.
power
0Everything comes down to this for me. The earth is my constant. She speaks to me. She allows me to see beauty and wonder and allows me to understand that while I may be mortal, she is not. She wreaks havoc and mayhem wherever she may. And yet, she also introduces us to astounding sights that capture our attention.
On Boxing Day, I stood at the shores of her greatest body of water. I rolled up my jeans and waded into her cool waters. I felt the sands beneath my toes wrapping around me. I smelled her scent in a way that reminds me of why I love being near her shores. She soothes me. She cleanses me. She reminds me of what is important.
I looked into the eyes of my niece, on her first trip to the Pacific, and smiled. Her joy was immeasurable as we stood there, the surf pounding upon Huntington Beach, the surfers riding the waves.
I knelt and collected sand, driftwood, and shells to make a gift for my Beloved. I wanted to share her with Him. She had reminded me that He was there with me, even if not physically. I could feel Him there, wading, laughing, having fun in her waters with me.
On New Year’s Day, at approximately 12:15 a.m. (while fireworks continued to go off in my time zone), she once again showed me her wonders. The skies finally opened up and the first snowfall (albeit it VERY late) of the year showered down upon my sleepy town.
I looked up in the wide-eyed wonder of a child, belying my years. She always impresses me in these displays. And again, I was aware that He was there with me. She graced my cheeks with soft flakes of snow but it was His finger tracing my cheek that I felt.
He knows that my spirituality is based upon the earth. Perhaps that is what brought us together at a deeper level. He understands that I’m at my happiest when I can feel the earth around me. Her scents and sounds and powers surrounding me.
And perhaps that is why, when her hand touches me, I feel His, also. We are connected, inexplicably, by this ever-changing, ever-revolving place called Earth.
do not pick thorny bushes…
0There is something about acoustical compilations that get me. I was fortunate enough to pick up a copy of the Star Lounge CD that a radio station in Los Angeles puts out yearly. It’s really phenomenal work. Listening to Lenny Kravitz sing “Fly Away” is great. BUT it’s Macy Gray’s “I Try” that is truly moving. It is soulful and real in a way that only live versions can be.
Games, changes and fears
When will they go from here
When will they stop
I believe that fate has brought us here
And we should be together
But we’re not.
I followed a merry band of Airstreams today. laughing At first, I thought that it was interesting, two or three following one another. But then, it turned into DOZENS! I really would have liked to have known where they were going. Was there an Airstream conference somewhere?
I play it off but I’m dreaming of you
I’ll keep my cool but I’m fiendin’
I try to say goodbye but I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
I’m a cuddly type of girl who wants a man to take care of her among other things. chuckle The right relationship grounds me. I tend to be a bit crazy and having someone around is good for me. Plus, then I get to have fun, too. But really, it’s someone for me to lean on, to share with, to feel safe with and to listen to and take direction from. I like that.
I may appear to be free
But I’m just a prisoner of your love
I may seem alright and smile when you leave
But my smiles are just a front
Why is it that you don’t have to go to the bathroom as you speed past all of the towns and rest stops on a long trip? But the MOMENT there is nothing in sight for at least 50 miles, that’s when you really have to go. So, I’m in the middle of the Mojave Desert with no rest areas for miles and that’s when my body decides it’s time to go. sigh There are NO trees out there. Little bushes and that’s it. Where would I stop??? But I had to. I found a “bush” that was a bit taller than me. All I could think was that some rattlesnake would probably bite my butt as I bared it and that would be how they’d find me. laugh Leave it to me to find myself under the thorniest bush I’ve ever encountered. I’ll be picking thorns out of my body for days.
I play it off but I’m dreamin’ of you
I’ll keep my cool but I’m fiendin’
I try to say goodbye but I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
I rarely stop on trips. I like to drive straight through and get to where I’m going. I don’t like to stop. I like scenery, I can slow down to check things out but don’t make me stop! chuckle I had to stop THREE times today in a 500 mile trip. I should have only stopped once to fill up with gas but circumstances were beyond my control. I was SO L.A. today. I’m sitting at a rest area returning phone calls for business; that and taking pictures of Airstreams. laugh I refuse to talk while I’m driving. I have to pull over and do it. I don’t want to hit some little old lady because I’m speeding along, not paying attention.
Here is my confession
May I be your possession
Boy I need your touch
Your love kisses and such
With all my might I try
But this I can’t deny
I’ve got the “move bug” again. I think part of it is watching my brother and his wife pack up to move to their new home. I love moving. It’s fun for me. I like to pack and unpack, finding treasures where I didn’t think there were any. Plus, I itch to see new places. I want to have a new adventure. I want to move to somewhere entirely new but it has to have either mountains or ocean or both. Kind of limits me in many ways, eh? However this is directed to two *chuckle* I will NOT be moving to Oklahoma anytime soon. Nope.
I play it off but I’m dreamin’ of you
I’ll keep my cool but I’m fiendin’
I try to say goodbye but I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
The snow is beautiful. I spent an hour digging myself a pathway to the door just so I could unload my car. I loved it. I love snow. There is something so magical about it. I become a kid again, wanting to go out and play.
Who ever said we always have to be grownups? smiling and skipping out