|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:45 PM|
I am sea foam. Come dance with me.
Untangle my hair and taste the salt on my lips.
I will erase your frown lines with my kiss.
I want your white noise and the dark quiet of your soul.
Let it go..let..it..all..go…
I am sand. The shore of my hips is strong but yielding.
They can carry the weight of your tears.
The fingers of my soul yearn to catch the grains of your broken heart,
form it again and place it gently back in your chest.
I am moonlit shadow.
Even unseen, I am there.
Because there is nothing so beautiful as passion and nothing as risky as “safe”, set the wind to your sails and find me.
I am here, where I have been...always…
waiting for you…
beneath the stars…
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:40 PM|
like the breeze playing the curtains
you fill the empty spaces
and tangle my hair
like the pulse moving my blood
your breath fills my ears
and tosses my mind
like the storm filling the sky
the sound of you gone roars
and rends me jagged
....the sound of you gone
is the loudest thing,,,,,,
I will never hear....
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:35 PM|
March 2020 - Pandemic Quarantine 1.0
There’s Got To Be a Morning After
So here's the thing - I feel like I am living through a Stephen King novel and facing the zombie hoard, literally, on my own. No, I am not sick, but I am not OK. I am the one that is most comfortable reassuring others. I am the strong one, I am independent, I can take care of myself. These are the bedrocks of my identity, my security. That's largely been enough. But none of that works now. Before all this, I was already dealing with a couple heavy emotional blows and didn't have the emotional bandwidth to take another one. So, I played the denial game.
That is until I read an article the other day which stripped the last vestige of denial away. What was normal, doesn't exist anymore, and it’s probably not coming back. Today my dad asked me if I was given the chance to to be evacuated, would I take it. I couldn’t answer him - had no idea what my answer would be. This life I live has always come with its share of uncertainty, but there was always a semblance of a framework. Now, I don't have the slightest guess what is coming next, and that is terrifying. Yes, I do know that out there, somewhere, is the me that got through this, and she is a badass. But right now, I am like everyone else. I am not OK, and please do not let me tell you that I am.
There are some things I am doing that seem to help me a little, and might help you too. The first is giving myself permission to not do it "right": I give myself permission to not worry about recycling, I give myself permission to leave the lights on if I need to push away the dark (and turn the heater on in March), I give myself permission to not be informed about every single development, I give myself permission to feel overwhelmed and I give myself permission to not be overwhelmed. Second, you've heard it before, only because it is true - exercising. It releases endorphins and uses up a lot of time where I don't have to think about anything other than the next set. Finally, finding inspiring things to listen to. I am someone that has always found grace in music. That means so much now and dancing is good for the soul. I have also added podcasts to the que. If you are looking for a suggestion, I recommend this one from Brene' Brown, where she talks directly to what we are all going through.
We may have to slog through the mud for a while yet to find it, but I do believe that there will be a rainbow out there somewhere. We can get there together eventually. I have to hold on to that. [Which reminds me of a song (of course) from Poseidon Adventure (70’s era disaster movie) https://youtu.be/_KClpLzFftU ]
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:30 PM|
Gravity - not the stuff of science class, but hot and oppressive, like a sticky Alabama August before a storm. That’s what it feels like, to be a spectator, watching impotently, as the life I’ve known for nine years starts to be pulled away in front of my eyes. Or maybe it is more like a star, imploding on itself, leaving a black hole. I have never, even in the darkest moments of my life, felt this helpless to change the course of things. A reality my mind rejects, but my heart feels.
September, 2011, nine years ago, I arrived at this place unaware, unprepared. My commitment was just one year, not even that, really just nine months. How did those nine months become nine years? How did this place become home? Each year was filled with light and dark, love and fear, nightmares and daydreams. But whatever the cost, it became a part of me, essential.
It is the place where I first learned how it felt to make a life that is my own. A life lived according to my own north star. It is the place I first understood a life’s purpose, my purpose. The thing that all that had passed, had prepared me for.
I understand doors closing and windows opening. I know I will start again, again….even though, right now, I don’t know how. How do I even carefully box up all my memories, not knowing how to send them on during a pandemic, to meet me across the ocean? How do I begin, when I can’t say goodbye - goodbye to the home I made, to my students - the profession that gave me purpose, to the ones I love, to the one who is the other half of my soul? COVID has built a wall around us, and I will leave, as I arrived, on my own, unprepared.
Yes, I knew that this day would come - eventually, but not today. I thought I would get a goodbye of my own design, not one dictated by circumstance beyond influence. I will persevere, I will be OK, just not now, just not today. Today my heart breaks, and I give in, to gravity.
Written September 2021
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:25 PM|
No storybook tale;
No beautiful maiden;
No brave knight to the rescue;
Just two souls seeking shelter from the storm.
We have seen the darkness,
Which only defines the light.
I know who you are when you have forgotten;
You remembered me before we met.
I am here to shade you from the sun,
And to dry the rain.
When you weary of the wilderness;
I am here where we began.
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:20 PM|
One day, I understood.... There are people that spend much of their lives searching for enlightenment. They read the 'right' books, learn the ancient verses, quote the 'best' philosophers and know all the obscure mantras. But it is a wasted endeavor, if they never practice compassion (at least not with anyone outside their "tribe"). Enlightenment then just becomes an exercise in individualism, of seperatness. Compassion teaches us we are connected, in the good and in the bad. My neighbors sad heart is my sad heart, as is his glad heart. To seek enlighenment without compassion is like a mole hoarding the mirror, or the bull in the china shop blaming the broken goblet for being too fragile. I have often said (and others have said for me) that I cry too easily. Better that, than not being able to cry [for my fellow man] at all. If enlighenment is what you seek, first remember that everything you wish for yourself, you first must give.
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:20 PM|
Is it better to know the hour of your death, or to live as if you will never die? If I had known that my world was about to be turned upside down…would I have opened the door? He has killed before – this stealthy hunter of the heart. What makes me think I am strong enough – that I can handle whatever awaits? Whatever it is pushes me out and into the storm. Even though we have not yet met this time – I would recognize him always. It is in the eyes. Does he recognize me? I thought so, but maybe I was wrong.
He told me things about his life, secrets I let myself imagine were only for me. When I left – no, I didn’t really leave, I still did not know it was my last chance to escape. He asked me to stay – I could not. But of course, like the moth to a flame, I returned. This time by bus – I was late – he was scared – he thought I might have been blown up – it happens here sometimes.
More talking, more dreaming, more moonlight on the Galilee. He asked me what I knew of him – I said I knew I was safe. He told me I was wrong (he was right), that I don’t really know him (he was wrong). He thought he would scare me. Foolishly, I still think I am stronger than all his demons. I told him that I was sorry he had been hurt so badly that his only companion was fear.
He said being with him would mess me up – a self-fulfilling prophecy. In pushing me away, he sealed my fate (that wasn’t the cruelest thing), I just didn’t know it yet (which was more than cruel). He sacrificed my heart on the alter of his cowardice. I did not know it until I left. Then it did not take long for me figure out something had gone terribly wrong. My sheep in wolves clothing had disappeared, leaving a hole where my heart should have been.
How many tears does it take to wash away a memory? No, not a memory – lifetimes of memories – soul memories. Not enough yet. I know he has followed my life and reads my words. Breadcrumbs I leave, hoping he will find his way back home.
Now, I am back at the scene of the crime.
Just a train or a bus and a couple of hours could take me there. But this time he won’t be waiting, worried I had been blown up (it happens here sometimes). Is it better to know the hour of your death or to live your life as if you are never going to die?
|Posted on April 28, 2022 at 5:15 PM|
I love butterflies!
Ya know, some people say to live without expectation, because expectations only lead to disappointment. I call it anticipation, and it is not a bad thing. Anticipation is that excited butterfly feeling at the start of anything (or anyone) new and worthwhile. It is hope, it is wonder, it is a secret smile, it is fresh starts and second chances at life and love. Sure, it can lead to disappointment, but disappointment just means we tried for something meaningful. The trick is to not let disappointment keep us from gathering more butterflies ♥ Cat