Finding Solace

I’ve been trying to decipher what is intentionally good in my life versus what is not. It’s not an easy thing to wade through. The waters are murky and deep and filled with emotional piranhas who could devour my peace of mind in seconds.

The constant movement of bile and bias, of old love and new love, of memory and reality, coat me in oil slick residue that feels thick and permanent and over time, has made me almost tear proof.

Almost.

My Sadness will always be there. Buried deep inside. Between the sheets, around the beats, beneath the heat of my valleys and peaks, and at the center of any happiness I may find along the way. It is the bluish blackish bruise of me and I have embraced it as such in its entirety.

I am neither happy nor sad, neither confused nor certain, neither hurting nor healed. I am simply here, living in the quiet storm of this crazy existence. Some days feel dangerously volatile and others deceptively calm. Yet through it all, I find solace in the shade and shadows of yesterday.

No longer frantic and filled with regret and the endless ache of wanting and wishing, the past has become a place of sweet memory and a gentle reminder that love remains in each and everything we have touched, are touching now, and will ever touch in the future.

Today I’m ok with that.

It brings me solace.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and life, as always, is full of possibility. And hey, I’m still here to tell the story.

I am grateful. 🙏🏽🌼❤️

Advertisements

Fuck YOU

This is a note to the reader of my blog who feels it necessary to forward my posts to the attention of my partner.

Fuck YOU.

You, no doubt, want to stir up the muddy sediment of insecurity and fear in the hopes of what? I’m still not clear since you have nothing to gain, and a friendship to lose.

FUCK YOU.

I get that, sadly, you are one of those people who are never happy unless you are causing turmoil in the lives of others, and that your penchant for nosy-parking, gossiping, maligning and defaming character is on par with your lack of self-respect and ignorance, but honestly and with reverence I sincerely say again and again…

FUCK YOU!

You’re a coward.

And a cunt.

And a poor excuse for a decent human being.

You’re the puss of the infected thing that feeds on the pond scum.

Seriously, bitch.

Move on with your sad little pathetic life.

And leave mine alone.

Aaaah. I feel better now.

Every now and again you need a good rant!!!

Releasing and moving on.

Namaste. 🙏🏽🌼❤️

Have a nice day!

Time Lessons

She promised she would never leave. But she did. I’m sure she’s forgotten and expects to be forgiven the breaking of her word.

She said she couldn’t imagine life without me in it. Clearly, she didn’t realize imagination is limitless.

She said we’d be friends. I see no evidence of that. She never calls, or writes or texts hello. No check-in. No “how are you?”. No interest.

Time is a valuable teacher. Often a harsh bearer of reality checks. But given enough of them, one can’t help but heed the lessons, desired or not.

The lens thru which I saw her, felt her, knew her and loved her, has fractured by the passage of time and the neglect in her deliberate silence.

My perception of what was is changing in the spectacularly enlightened kaleidoscope of spiritual growth and the slow rivers of acceptance that wash me clean of the shame and blame.

Life moves on with only a whispering reminder that our moments together are so thin and fragile and will never be here again. I only wish we all knew and understood and treasured them as such. Perhaps then, there would be nothing to forgive.

My lesson this time? Cuz there’s always a lesson.

Cherish all of my moments and remember, love is precious. Listen to the whispers of Life.

I get it now.

Wisdom in a forgotten birthday.

Battlefield

I stand at the edge in despair. Dejected. Confused. Alone. A sullen spectator to the fading magnificence of my literary world. Ravaged and ruined by the conflict of rules contained within simple words of caution. A lone witness to the power in the invisible placement of intentional boundaries.

I move. I shift. I aimlessly drift. Wide-eyed and helpless, I circle the perimeter. Careful not to disturb the susceptible surface of this unforgiving ground. I know the explosive consequence of misstep. I want. I feel. I am bursting. But I have no syllabary with which to translate my anxiety.

I see them out there. In the field.

My words.

The soldiers of my thoughts. Deliverer of my emotions. Protectors of my heart. Of my soul. Dueling and jousting. Bleeding and crawling. Fighting their way through the stifling oppression of the unimagined mind. Racing to reach Me. Fierce in their determination to Be. Certain of their right to exist. Within. Me.

And they are correct.

The violent passion. The desperate brokenness. The blinding love. The debilitating hurt. The exultant joy. The immaculate, beautiful messiness. This is the stuff that fuels my muse. The responsive sensations that inspire me to write. And to write well I need their wild abandon to corse through my blood and stir the sensitive tremor in my hand.

I see them out there. In the field.

My words.

And they are correct.

I need them. Unequivocably.

And all the frenzied intensity that inspires them into life.

Writer. Artist. Lover.

I thrive in the emotional spaces. Between.

There is no other way.

Internal Dialogue #1

Lately I’ve been feeling my personal/emotional worldview slipping from one kalidescope into another. Things I once knew with such certainty are now hovering on the fringe of doubt. And things I was absolutely positive would never be entertained by this seven dimensional mind, are springing into view lively and energetic.

In part, I am saddened by the loss of feelings and beliefs I’ve clutched close to my hearts core like a frayed and tattered lifeline. While old and definitely showing signs of age and wear, it has pushed me thru necessary conflict, always reliable and safe. And a constant companion for so long. Growing me, changing me, elvolving me and challenging me in unimaginable ways. A reliable, steadfast friend who seemed to have my best interest at heart. It’s a hard loss to comprehend.

I’m struggling.

And in part, I am excited to move into a new personal/emotional worldview because it means….

Hmm. 🤔

Nope. 

Still on the fence. 

Change does not always come easy to me.

To be continued…😶

Lonely Roads #2

On the bus again.

Solitude beckons.

Heartache shared.

I’ve screamed. I’ve cried. I’ve left.

I’ve hurt. I’ve breathed. I’ve let go.

So many regrets

Live inside the place

Where Hope should have thrived.

I am human.

I’ve made mistakes.

This bus ride

Is not one of them.

For weeks I’ve listened and watched

The Canada geese fly south.

Migration.

Homeward bound.

Eminent.

Wings spread in formation

Sure of their path

And their place

In the grand scheme of Life.

The first and the last

Equally important

For the survival of all.

Bound by nature.

By familial bonds.

By something

That has no word in English.

But as much apart of them

As their regal crowns.

As I boarded the bus

I found a feather.

Tucked it in my pocket

And wished to belong to something

That has no word in English.