Who are you?

December 14th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

You’ve managed to elbow your way into my mind, lapping at my thoughts like thirsty traveler.  You’re finding your way into my daily motions.  My fingertips miss your face. My eyelids miss your skin. There was an electric shock when you emerged, but a strange silence and darkness when you slipped away.

I didn’t know it was possible, but I’m awake again.

I didn’t even know I was sleeping.

Wednesday morning

December 12th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

It was only mistletoe

and peanut butter

but it felt

like heaven.

Literacy is defiance

December 10th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

I refuse to give up on a day, regardless of the number of angry, cold raindrops.


Slow down or you’ll miss it

December 4th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

I’m frantic at times most of the time.  When I finally stop or slow down, I make such a point of doing it that I feel like I’ve lost all inertia. Even when I stop, I am now unsure if what I call slowing down or stopping is really happening?  I’m beginning to think that I’m just filling up with moments with the other things I don’t have time for.  I’ve started reading a novel again… no word on whether or not I can finish this one.  Start them, rarely finish them.

I’ve been asked to slow down.  I’ve been asked to take a look around and do less.  Do one thing at a time.  While I intuitively know this and accept it, it’s really damned hard to put it into practice.  I am blowing around so often… I don’t know how to anchor myself.

If I don’t slow down, though… I know, know, know… I’ll miss the important things.


The sea gives.

December 3rd, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Beauty in chaos. Order in disorder.


Speaking the truth

December 3rd, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Truth is subjective.  There is absolute fact, of course… but the truth, is all about perception.  If there are two people involved in an encounter or interaction, the facts can remain constant, but their perceptions of the truth can be completely divergent from one another.  There can be agreements of truth, regardless of the facts.  Facts can happen, but like a statistical analysis, the story that we weave with our interpretations of the facts can sometimes leave the events that actually occurred in the dust.  When facts are omitted from a story, events that actually happened never make it into a person’s version of the truth… and a non-truth is never uttered by the story teller – is this lying?  If the story teller relies on the imagination of the listener to fabricate the story tendrils and, in all honesty, complete the lie; is this still truth-telling?  A lie told with good intent is still a lie?  Is it better to close a door with the truth or to allow a separate path to be taken with a half-truth/home-brewed lie?

I am wrestling with this.  I am seeking the truth.  I am also seeking closure.  Do the facts actually support the truth I’m hearing?  Does this truth give me closure?  Is my closure possible with the absolute truth, or do I need to spin and twist it to fit my wounded pride? What if the story-teller is incapable of releasing the factual truth?  What happens if the story-teller has spun so many half-truths that they can’t recall the facts?  Who wins?  Is it better to walk away?

I’ve made the difficult decision to ask for the truth.  The factual truth.  I don’t know how capable the story-teller is with recalling the facts.

I’ve opened the box, I can’t walk away. I just hope that I can receive the closure and maintain a friendship.  As with everything, I can only control what I can control.  Everything else should be graciously released to the tides.

Green, white

October 27th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Life is so very strange.


quiet echoes

October 27th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

The past has a funny way of clouding your present mindset. People rise up, seemingly from beyond the grave, to cast the bones of your joint memories on the ground. Sometimes we can step over them gracefully, other times they catch our gait and bring us crushing to the ground. Other moments arise when someone in our present, unrelated with a particular past, does or says something that calls forth a heartbreaking spectre. They can’t control the stories you tell yourself.  They have no idea what they’ve evoked, clearly.  The pained expression that darkens your face, however, will tell them volumes about right now.

How can you communicate the past in the midst of actively processing it?  We simply do not know when this will happen or how intense the revival of these pains will be.  Our job is to sense these emotions, grant ourselves space, and allow those sensations to run their course… hopefully without reenactment.

The goal is not to be unfeeling, but to be uncontrolled by our feelings.  We can be guided into action if we so wish.  The sensation of being uncontrollably compelled into action or feeling “forced” to react intensely is akin to being caught in a tailspin.  It’s deeply defeating as we know internally that we are at the source of this pain.  I can lie and say I feel nothing, or I can acknowledge and allow the sensation to teach me.

Perhaps I’ll know better next time how to deal with the way that I feel?  The past can only control me if I don’t learn from it.

The answer

October 26th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

… is sometimes a question.


Love buzz

October 26th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Would you believe me when I tell you…?