Be Forewarned, I am a Fey and Quixotic Creative Writer

Be Forewarned, I am a Fey and Quixotic Creative Writer
And in the End was the Word, Amy's Word

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Saturday, March 28, 2015

How to Become a Crazy Nut

Hey, Amy, tell us how you first became a crazy nut.

I mentioned in a previous blog that I did not share core values with "the Huntsman".  The first two years of our union were alright.  Then a terrible thing happened.  I fell for the Huntsman's older brother.  (1983)

Now I realize how scandalous that is.  It was even more scandalous in the early eighties.  I  professed my affections to my sister in law (their oldest sister), when my brother-in-law took off on a motor cycle tour of the country.  I don't know what possessed me to tell her.  She then spoke to him and of course he knew nothing about my affections.  The years that followed were hard.  People avoided me and often my children as well.  My Huntsman got wind of it and he no longer trusted me.  Many people decided I was not one to spend time with.  I was a kook and did not know what was real.  This was a common line:  "what if it happens again?" The social reaction to my moral weakness was not an easy thing to take.  My blood relation were not impressed with my situation either.  I clung to my little children.  I recited the Lord's Prayer and learned the Hail Mary.

I think in actuality it was just my journey being forged.  I was not to have an easy road in life.  It was God and his angels and saints coordinating a plan to draw me closer.  When I recall my brother-in-law's facial expression, I saw love.  There was an energy in his eyes that was magical.  I imagine it was not in his heart, as he never stood up for my story.  I think that he was innocent.  What I saw was the look of love coming through him from somewhere...that is from another sort of being, like an angel or saint.

When I think back on some of my relationships with men I tend to think maybe it was the Diablo who was directing their actions.  It is different though with "Stephen".   One day he answered the phone at the farm and I said, "Oh, Saint Stephen......"  One never really knows how God works to make you who you are.

(1987) July 16, I became focused on the imbalance of the world, industry to nature, male to female.  I started praying and sorting plastics ( recycling did not start till years later).  I was unhinged or maybe it could be called a dissolution of consciousness.  The date was the three hundred anniversary of a native american woman icon who had been disinterred by the French.  She is a local legend.  I wonder if I was channeling her energy?  I thought maybe I was the reincarnation of Mary Magdalen or the Virgin Mary.  My last name was an anagram for "angels."  All things had significant children's names and birthdays, etc.   I was hospitalized and told that I was bipolar.

"Don't worry, honey, we have a label for you."

This is Saint Stephen,  the first Christian Martyr.  He was stoned to death.  He was Greek.  The color red is for martyrs.  He looks a little mischievous.

The title of this entry is somewhat tongue in cheek.  I was advised by Jesus to believe in myself.  I really don't believe that I am a "crazy nut".  There is not a category for who or what I really am.

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