Return of Daughter of Blog

I changed my mind.

The old blog posts stay.

I read through them and decided to continue the saga although I realized a few loose ends need to be tied up before I continue with the next chapter.  I’ll address them here.

SO WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ALLIGATOR WRANGLER?

Well, you can guess what happened there.  I am, after all, a red-blooded American woman.   For about five weeks last fall, I lived the plot line of a smutty soft-core beach book, and it was spectacular.  Thankfully, scratching that itch resolved my predilection for falling for emotionally unavailable men suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome.  What a relief.  In regards to my epic journey to my true self, it was a hell of a grand finale to a parade of relationships designed to humble me right into the arms of true love, which I saw in the eyes of a Bengal/Siberian tiger. That was the start of my new year. (See The Tiger Lessons: One, Love at First Sight)

When I quit the gator man, maybe around last November, he was standing inside the cougar cage at the animal park–the same park where I saw him get dragged into the alligator pond.  The cougar had been re-penned so the wrangler could clean out the enclosure, and he was shut in the cat cage like another exhibit in that roadside zoo.  Sometimes spirit hits me with a sucker punch, and as the gator wrangler stood behind the metal mesh trying to explain to me about how much he hated being controlled, I felt, severely and unkindly, a blow to my solar plexus.  Walk away now.  And I did.  I turned as he was still yammering on about freedom and left him behind me.

I wasn’t the one in the cage anymore, and that’s what that episode taught me.

WHAT ABOUT SAM THE TIGER?

Beloveds, I have have tried three or four times to get up to Jim’s since Rick died, and every time something unexpected happens that prevents me from going.  The last time was two weeks ago when I was struck with a violent stomach bug, and so I haven’t seen Sam since March.

I’ll get back up there as soon as I can.  I wrote to Jim and confessed that it felt like I was being blocked from visiting, and he agreed that may be true, and I don’t know what to make of it.  To comfort me in the loss of Rick, Jim sent me this gorgeous photograph he took of Sam, my unrequited love, as he was doing what tigers love to do:  sit in a tub of water.

Photo courtesy of Jim Cawthard

Photo courtesy of Jim Cawthard

Sam remains one of the most effective and powerful spiritual teachers I have yet to encounter, and Jim isn’t too shabby, either.  There may or may not be more Tiger Lessons ahead.  At this point, I just don’t know.

IS THE NOVEL FINISHED?

No.  Of course not.  Ask me again in December, though.

WHAT NOW FOR THE BLOG?

The game changed for me at the end of 2012, and I’m in a new world now.  I’ll continue to keep you up to date on events as they transpire, but I admit I am not feeling as painfully raw anymore, which is going to change the nature of what I write about here and what I discuss.  I’m not sure how, but I guess we’ll figure that out together.  I appreciate all of you who keep reading, and especially those of you who expressed your desire for me to keep up the old blogs and not remove them.  You were right.

In a few weeks, I’m going to be launching a new nature writing blog, and I still need a title for it.  If any of you have a good idea, pass it along, please.  The first adventure is with Jack Shealy and Tommy Owens, a couple of new generation Gladesmen working out of the Skunk Ape Research HQ.  We’re going to look for pythons in the Glades on stand up paddleboards.  Stay tuned.

Let’s move forward now, shall we?

night night, beloveds.  Til the next blog.  Whatever that may be.

 

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About marlowemoore

I'm a writer, dancer, and naturalist living in the Tampa Bay area.
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11 Responses to Return of Daughter of Blog

  1. Betty Glick says:

    Glad you’re writing again, and I love the tiger in the bathtub–I had no idea they liked water, thought they were like house cats, water hating. xoxo, Betty

    • marlowemoore says:

      Not as glad as I am that you’re painting again. Your last post was wonderful. I need one of your paintings, or many of your paintings, in my life. If you and Tom come back to Florida, I will take you to Jim’s to meet Sam. I think you and he may rather like each other. Happy to hear from you, Betty.

  2. Lyell LeBron says:

    I love you beyond space and time. I am so happy yoy are continuing the writing:) I live precariously through you. Maybe one day Ill have the courage to strike out on my own too!

    • marlowemoore says:

      Likewise, Lyell. And, if I am not mistaken, you HAVE striked (struck? stricken?) out on your own. I’ve got to get you to Florida, though. I have a feeling you may find a familiar feeling in this ol’swamp. xo

  3. misserika71 says:

    Love that you are keeping the old blog posts! Can’t wait to read more. Sam is gorgeous, apparently inside and out!

  4. Johnny says:

    don’t you dare drop your old blogs. they are veyr worth re-reading.

  5. Steve Noell says:

    Thanks for leaving them up. I’m only a few months in and I don’t want to get stuck on a cliffhanger. Also, hi, Marlowe.

    • marlowemoore says:

      Hi, Steve! Thanks so much for reading the blog, and I look forward to meeting you soon, hopefully. I appreciate you taking the time to respond–upon reflection, the idea of taking down the blogs was dumb. I find reflection to be thus revelatory upon most of my logic. See you soon!

      • Steve Noell says:

        Actually, we’ve met. I’m one of your former students. Don’t feel bad about not remembering my name. There are thousands of us and only one of you. Makes our job of remembering much easier. The only hint I could possibly give is that I wrote a short story about a boy who killed his dog.

      • marlowemoore says:

        Yes, I remember you from writing class…here in Florida my fiance has a friend whose name is identical to yours, and I mistook you for him! I am still glad you are reading the blog…and I wonder how you’re doing. Send news to my facebook or email so we don’t broadcast it here.

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