The sea of illusion

Yesterday was a great day and I went to the movies with Christine. This apartment is such an ideal location for everything and we walked the few blocks to Bay Walk, the center of St. Pete. We saw the movie, HELP which is about the black people in Mississippi trying to get along just prior to the Civil Rights era. A white lady like me wrote a book about the maids and how they took care of the white children. They taught them to believe three things their white mama's never did, 'I am kind, I am good and I am important.'

I was also raised in the kitchen by Annie Mae because my Mama was having a hard time. She was older for one thing, 42, Papa was 53, and had had a heart attack so was retired from the army. It was the beginning of WW2 and he missed the war so he was depressed and she was struggling to make a life. A 3 year old baby girl wasn't really included in that package so I lived in the kitchen when I wasn't in Papa's room cheering him up. I was told repeatedly that I was the only one who could make him smile.

I warn you that this is a strange blog because I'm not quite in my body. You know that moment between dream state and being awake? Well I was trying to land and I'm not sure I made it....yet. Anyway I had prayed last night, for a blog as the last two have been so depressing my programmer called me long distance from India to question their posting. I said some negative things that really didn't need to be given to the wide world. So they were delited.

My sister also raised me in that joyless house because she was 10 when I was born and I was thrust upon her. She was imprinted on me like baby ducks are imprinted with the mama duck...for ever. Only they probably out grow it. I'm still trying but not succeeding. She married and moved away when I was six leaving me in the kitchen with Annie Mae. When she returned home again she had a baby, a real baby, her own baby. I tried to compete but was unsuccessful but then, the rest of the six babies came with her each summer that she came down to Florida, and I almost gave up...but not quite. In college I was sent by Papa to live with her and her husband and kids while I went to drama school. Then five years later I was sent to live with her to have psychotherapy. Little quack quack almost gave up .

College and 15 years of working with other deprived and emotionally abused children, as a social worker in California, partially erased the imprint but then my significant other died of cancer and...I took off for India and the unconditional love of the Avatar, Sri Sathya Sai Baba. I should add here that mama duck flew out and helped me to make that change. OK fast forward 33 years to the little duck waddling into the ancestral home again in desperation to her first mama who was now 86 and suffering with asthma. Quack quack I came in begging for help because after all those years in India I was really sick, sicker than mama duck.

Well you all know the rest, (you nameless faceless people of the web who probably don't exist anyway.) Mama duck is still trying to elude my pathetic grasp even though the six competitors have families of their own but have refused to step out of the race. I spend my days in this tiny apartment writing blogs and waiting for a phone call from mama duck....which is why yesterday it was so great to go to the movies. AND NOW FOR THE SPIRITUAL REASON WHY I WROTE THIS BLOG TO BEGIN WITH.

Who the heck is this bleeding little duck anyway, and what's more who is mama duck and Annie Mae. Right folks, they are just characters in MY MOVIE. They don't exist any more than I do...that is exist apart from the main character, Sri Sathya Sai Baba who wrote the damn play to begin with IN ORDER TO BRING THIS LITTLE DUCK BACK TO FULL CONSCIOUSNESS.

Two questions. First will my programmer buy this one. And second, will that mama duck, read this blog (she doesn't usually) and fly off in a cloud of feathers...finally free of this little 'lame duck' struggling here in the sea of illusion.