Stripping away the rose colored glasses of denial concerning my reality. Getting in touch with truth. Reaching out to others in empathy concerning their reality and their walk to truth.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

a beach I do not know


A beach I do not know
Is beckoning me to call
It has the strangest rocks
Not like a beach at all

The wind whips round
My shoulders chill
And I am found
Without much will

I leave to find a sweater
The fire inside is warm
The cabin keeps the weather
Outside, I am not harmed

Many come to heal here
Some just come to play
Others bring their fear near
And find a peaceful way

My head rest on my pillow
I’m thankful that I came
No more the weeping willow
Because they’ve soothed my pain

Harmony


I am more than what you see
I am more than simply me
I am one you used to love
I am one who is the dove

You were precious in my eyes
You were kind, I was not wise
You loved me, but I was blind
Then you left our world behind

I did not know that I was weak
And to admit I could not speak
I only knew I had to seek
The life that kept me from the deep

You are still precious in my heart
The times I thought we could restart
Are gone and though it is a lark
I’ll always see your glowing spark

I am more than what you see
I am more than simply me
There’s no stigma, look, you’ll see
My life is lived in harmony

Monday, October 6, 2008

My home


My home close to the sea and the mighty wind brings me clouds to watch the day. I watch them and watch the sea oats as they sway back and forth. The softness of the oats as they rustle each other then suddenly stops. The wind dies down and I take in deep breaths at water’s edge. I feel… I feel so… glad to feel at all.

My home has a small play of sunlight peeking through so I’ll be warm against the winds that preclude the storm. Large billowy and large pillars of clouds push across the water and throw ocean spray around me. I taste… it taste… the saltiness that I am made of.

Yet I Continue (2)


There are times when I’m not sure why I’m headed in “this direction”, or “that direction”; I only know that I don’t go alone. Many times I sit down to write and have no idea what will be presented or brought to the forefront of this “pop corn” like brain. Some posts surprise me more than they might surprise you. At times it’s like I’ve stepped out of a cave into a reality that bids me to just think and write whatever I’m feeling. Oh my, do I have feelings… and some might appear detrimental to my health. Indeed there is fear that what I write will be futile in its attempt to share life as I experience it. Yet I continue.

When it’s time to chose a photo I really note what elements ‘speak’ to the theme I’m attempting. This ocean looks pretty calm with nice small rolling waves. The foam rushes to shore with a bit of force cutting lines into the sand. Overall the photo exhibits a peaceful color soothing the nerves, advocating rest while the foam steadily flows. Yet I continue.

Strangely this photo is only for right now; this moment. My struggle to maintain an evenness of life is still affected by pain recently experienced. Yet I continue.

My walk is steadier, my goal ever true, and my hands write of the healing I feel from those of you… who continue.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Do I have a writer's block?



I’m not finding anything I want to write about so I’ll write about that. And blank.

I have goals that I’m afraid to reach toward. My current situation allows me to continue hiding from myself and those goals. And blank.

I have some very supportive people and resources and life is getting better, but I am not yet willing to hear reality. Yet my reality is what I make of it, taking into account the universal boo-boos that are planned for me.

I found this photo and it looks to be an old aqueduct/bridge thing that seems to parallel my issues. The old is crumbling and being washed away. But since I cannot see the new I run scared, and running is too familiar… it doesn’t work. And blank.

“And blank” is the emptiness that sits at the end of a sentence where another sentence might have joined had I had another thought to add. Another sentence would deliver me, possibly, to a paragraph? That’s the way compositions used to work but this is blogging; an informal rendering of heart and mine to cyber page.

I long to find the indwelling stirring that I feel and use to pen my pages; it’s not gone… it just seems to be on a break. Maybe I’m forcing issues I’m not ready for. Maybe I need some rest. I won’t know until I get ‘there’: End and blank.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

A remembrance of love


You came here from another land
And we sat until dawn talking about the craziness
Of our world

Yours so humble and peaceful, mine aggressive
And often turbulent
But we talked on

The light shone through the glass door
And we noticed the sunrise
Neither of us tired

I couldn’t pronounce your name and you
Couldn’t pronounce mine,
But in a month we’d be married

Six months passed our lives broken
You went off to war
I stayed here and realized we
Would never be the same

a place for me




If I could live anywhere it would be in a place just like this scene of morning coolness; a chilled spray with slow, soft crashing waves of green nearing shores' edge, peaking in pink foam.

It would be a delicate sunrise of bright pink toned yellows, breaking forth in a lemony sky, oh my.

Would I share it or be alone? I think I'd rather be alone and drink it in; explore every sensory preception's reception.

The sand waits for each footprint to appear and just as quickly, to disppear; wet sand does as it is directed by a source we often forget. I won't forget this time.

The place I would live surely exists because I found a photograph of it. Can I find it? Yes, everytime I close my eyes I will see it and be grateful that I can still imagine beauty.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Just One Voice



“Just one voice singing in the darkness all it takes is one voice singing so they hear what's on your mind and when you look around you'll find there's more than One voice… “

Artist, composer, and lyrist, Barry Manilow may not have been the most popular musician in my high school, but I loved his music; I felt his music. Strangely I only have his first album, the others lost after so many moves with a running person.

I ran from every situation that needed confrontation, dropping my gift of love and leaving completely. Leaving friends and family wondering what was going on with me? I could never explain, but one day I stood still and let the world mow me down. Running was replaced by anger and hurtful feelings; then the loss of physical strengths. Hate came and it is the most devastating because it brings suffering, not only for me but for the ones around me.

So the choice was made to medicate me and I became a living zombie. I heard no one and nothing. For three and a half years I did not exist. One day I had a thought; A THOUGHT. The zombie finally had one thought; I would die, but how? Nothing came to mind. I couldn’t remember; how do people kill themselves?

Bargaining with the great silent universe I wanted to stop the non-existence I felt; I wanted to die. I began to starve myself, which created a medical problem of dosage versus body weight. Two weeks later I ended up in an emergency room, and the staff was going nuts trying to match the symptoms with a diagnosis. When I finally died at the hospital which tried desperately to keep me alive, I saw some of the most wonderful sites.

My youngest brother stood by my bed and I read his face even though my eyes were closed. He fought heard to keep his emotions unrevealed to anyone. With his medical background I knew, he knew. I tried hard to get his attention and tell him that I was going to be okay. I reached out with my arm but looked down at the sheet where my arm still lay. I knew his future, and wanted to tell him before I left. Just at that moment the golden “judgment box” reappeared overhead. I heard my brother tell his wife, “She’s dying and there’s nothing they know to do for her. They can’t find the problem.”

I lay back against the pillow having watched another “mirror of my life” within the judgment box clear; something had been forgiven in that instant. My brother and his wife stood before me and I saw behind them two great worlds collide and planets ripping apart. A large ship sailed out of the way and escaped the planets’ pull. No one else ever stood close enough for me to “see” what might be behind them.

A terrible medication accidentally got left at home, and left off of the emergency room history. No record of it anywhere. On the fifth morning in the ICU I awoke to a white, bright, clean room. Nurses and technicians fluttering about and then someone noticed that I was awake and sitting up. I had been without that one medication for five days. My mind was back. I no longer saw through a long dark tunnel toward a pinpoint light. It was as if I had been living in a dungeon and was seeing the outdoors for the first time.

I am not abandoning Barry Manilow’s lyrics. In my brief scenario above, someone was showing me great things, and if those great things help me find other voices singing in the darkness, then indeed I must sing, telling them what is on my mind. I’ve found more comfort re-listening to his music than in therapy where a person who’s had no tragedy like mine is telling me: “its okay.” Recently I’ve found many voices that have been singing for a long time of a way to heal through love, patience, and positive affirmations. I continue my journey learning from them and hopefully will one day be included in their collective ONE VOICE.

Can you fix me?



I want to explore without getting lost
My missteps add up, a burden with costs

Love is a goal but I’m never hot
My travel feels cold, rejection my lot

My mind swirls in time and I lose my way
My closet awaits, more prayers will I say

Temptation comes near, a dangerous feel
I laugh at my frailty, but know that it’s real

Mysteries plague my end-less repentance
Unbridled lust and reverse of my senses

Life is much more yet I am here pleading
To be what I am; I am here for the reading.

The want to know people and not invite fear
I read and I write all the words that are dear