My Story


My Story:

After the illness and death of our only daughter, my husband and I decided to rent a boat and go sailing in the gulf of Mexico for a month. This is where, on New Year's Day 2005, we were caught in a storm, shipwrecked and my husband drowned. I have been on this island, which seems to be caught in some kind of portal or other dimension, ever since, free to explore philosophical and spiritual thoughts, yet physically unable to leave.

Other characters seem to be able to come and go as they please however, as I have met a few of them since being here. They visit me every once in awhile. Aquaman and Gypsy Queen were the first to appear. Gollum showed up after, then came El Alejandro and Stick-Paul, into whose dimension I was able to go a few hours before being pulled back to my island. More recently, Mr. Tumnus has been around.

Other than rare visits from these characters, I have the constant chattering of monkeys and sqawking of parrots to fill my days.

Every once in awhile, when the wind is just right, and I am able to power up the make-shift generator I made (I am handy aren't I?), charge my satelite phone, which has internet access (even out here), I am able to post a little something on my current life as a shipwrecked woman. Don't bother trying to rescue me just yet. I doubt you'd find me anyway. This seems to be one of those Bermuda Triangle things. I'm not sure I'm even in the same dimension anymore. But hey, the satelite phone still works, how cool is that?



Friday, February 8, 2008

Juana - the queen of metaphor

On the road of life, there are Ups and Downs and every once in awhile, a sudden intersection. I haven't hit one of those in awhile. The last time I hit one, I think I took the wrong road. I was in the Highlands for awhile, but then I hit gullies. A lot of them. My road has gone through quicksand and badlands. Found some fossils there. Which way should I have gone? Where are the mountains? I just want to soar like the eagles and be free for awhile.

From the road I am on I sometimes glimpse those peaks, but the road does not take me there. It bends and twists, and sometimes I think I am coming back to gullies I have visited before. I am so tired of the prairies. With all this open space you would think I'd be free as the antelope, but I am a prisoner of the road. I am the river obliged to flow always in the same bed.

There are days when the sun shines bright, and things seem better, except for the dust this creates on the road. Sometimes when other people go past, I can't see anything for awhile because of all the dust they've kicked up.

There are days when thunderstorms come. I am wet and miserable, but at least the dust is gone. It's turned to mud, and it cakes my shoes.

I want to know, when will there be an intersection in the road again? Will I have another chance to change direction? Which way should I go? Which way will take me to the mountains? Will the road I am on eventually get there at all?