Standing on shaky legs....

"You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself." ~Alan Alda

"Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand." ~ Emily Kimbrough

"Poetry often enters through the window of irrelevance." ~ M.C. Richards

"Inspiration may be a form of superconsciousness, or perhaps of subconsciousness - I wouldn't know. But I am sure it is the antithesis of self-consciousness." ~ Aaron Copland

"Inside you there's an artist you don't know about....Say yes quickly, if you know, if you've known it from before the beginning of the universe." ~Jalai Ud-Din Rumi

"Do no weep; do not wax indignant. Understand." ~Baruch Spinoza

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler." ~Henry David Thoreau

The airplanes keep leaving white lines on my blue canvas. I really wish they would stop that!

Out of the Blue

Isn't it odd how sometimes something happens just out of the blue? Something that you had been thinking about but were either too lazy or too scared or too unsure to do anything about.

In the last 16 years I have moved so many times that the places become almost a blur....and the people....well sometimes I find myself thinking that I have caught a glimpse of someone and then realize that it could not be that person because they live elsewhere.

I knew one city, one street, one house until the time that I turned 19. Since then I have known 5 cities in 5 different states and 9 different apartments, cottages, townhouses and houses. We won't bother to count the temporary places as such...the week to month spent living here or there waiting for a place to open up. This for a person who needs such deep roots in order to not blow over (you might have noticed the pic I chose for my profile)....along the way I also learned something about roots...I now carry them with me no matter where I end up.

But anyway all of that isn't what I am thinking about really. An event just happened to bring it to mind. What I am thinking about is a strange piece of mail that I received in Thursday's post. I check the mail everyday....well okay almost everyday. It seems that almost everyone has abandoned the dying art of letter writing...you know pen to paper not keyboard to enter/send. So occasionally there are a few days that go by when I don't check the mail. I won't be expecting anything so I just don't bother looking. Thursday I stepped out the front door to check that huge often times empty black mailbox and pulled out the usual. Or at least what as first glance looked to be the usual. Flyers and advertisements...a magazine....a catalog....a bill....and a single 5 x 6 white envelope addressed to me.

This envelope had had an adventure of its own. It listed my full name and my old address which had been marked through along with a yellow sticker from the post office for my general delivery address which had been marked through along with a handwritten current address which is how it finally reached me. At first I thought it might be a thank you from my brother from his wedding. (I really must see to it that everyone has my current address....just been too lazy) However, when I turned it over to open it I realized the return address was Roseville, CA Now that is NOT my brother. In fact I don't recognize this address nor this name at all.

Very curious now, I open it and pull out a single card. Like a postcard...a black and white advertisement is what it reminded me of. And the thought that went through my head was "oh now who has gotten my name from a mailing list and what crazy thing are they wanting from me" but the card had nothing on its back...just these pictures and a few words. I realized finally that it was a birth announcement. But I don't know these people! The name is not familar at all. Why would I have gotten this? It really puzzled me. Gave me an odd feeling like I should understand this but I didn't. These proud parents announcing a birth to a stranger....very odd, don't you agree?

He is a beautiful baby boy as newborns go. Strange little creatures that you want to hold and protect, but that somehow seem to have something behind those eyes....something wise to tell you if only they could speak. But they always keep their mystery to themselves. The background picture is obviously this little one gripping his mother's finger and then over that is a picture of his solemn little face in one corner and below that a picture of the happy little family of three in a private moment gazing at the baby. To the right is a strip of photos...the loving father with a bald head of his own, muzzling the babe's bald head.....bare little feet, toes out stretched...a loving mother craddling the babe, leaning down over him in profile. And that is when it hit me. The woman is gorgeous and happy but at first not familar to me...but that face in profile is familar! It is a friend that I have lost contact with probably 8 years ago....3 states ago...4 addresses ago.

Somehow she had taken the time to try and track me down. I had continued to run ahead like I seem to be always doing without leaving an advance warning. I have thought about her quite often. I have wondered how she is doing. I have thought about trying to track her down. She has one of the best hearts that I know. I have been upset with myself that I haven't kept in touch with her. She isn't the only friend that I have lost track of (having to leave others breaks my heart and so sometimes I almost pretend that they were another life time...silly I know). And here she was in a sense at my front door.

It is needless to say that I immediately dialed information. There was no listing for them! Damn this age for the technology that keeps people easy to reach and impossible to track down! All the operator could tell me was that she found no listing for them....perhaps it was unlisted...perhaps they had just a cell phone. No matter, I couldn't dial her in my excitement to catch up on all the missed years. So instead I will put pen to paper and revive the dying art of letter writing. Because if I don't make this effort I will never forgive myself.

A voice from the past, out of the blue.

It was freezing this morning. And this time I mean actually freezing...0 c/32 f. Brrrrrr!!! Frost even....I need to pick up a windshield scraper lol.

Okay there is something bothering me....a silly thing, which I know is a silly thing but it bugs me nonetheless. Last night I bought a liter of gingerale, Canada Dry to be exact (although I really wanted Vernors but they didn't see to carry it). So anyway this morning the liter is still sitting on the countertop unopened and I got curious.
Exactly where is Canada Dry made? Well not Canada apparently...it is owned by Dr Pepper/Seven Up, Inc (based in Plano, TX)...which in turn is a wholly owned-division of a London-based Cadbury Schweppes plc. I don't see Canada anywhere in that picture, do you? And can you even get Canada Dry in London?....probably not.
Want to know what else I just found out? Vernors is made by the same company (it used to be a Michigan only product, years ago)....now if Vernors and Canada Dry are from the same company, why was I left with only Canada Dry as a choice? Very rude....I need the store manager!

Randomness

Inspiration of old

(I truly need a better digital camera....one for finer work)

Familiarity can be disappointing when you were expecting the exotic. It's hard to throw your heart, soul and sense of wonder into something that you already know so well. The situation gets tricky if others are annoyed with your lack of enthusiasm. It's not as if you're trying to rain on their parade. If you meet them halfway with a graceful gesture, most people will be more than satisfied. That's fine with you. You're ready to give this subject a rest, anyway.

Currently I am....

• reading The Cave by Jose' Saramago (he is an odd writer, does anyone else agree with me on that?) I will pick Poe back up this weekend just for the thrill of it.
• craving the feel of a fresh sheet of textured paper
• dreaming of calla lilies
• missing the dry, irritatingly chalky feel of pastels on my fingertips
• wondering what I am waiting for
• freezing to death
• listening to Mad Season - Wake Up, The Smashing Pumpkins - Ava Adore, I Mother Earth - So Gently We Go, Dandy Warhols - Sleep, Deftones - Change (in the house of flies) and Junkhouse - Shine (all courtesy of a silver tongued snake from days passed, who should be proud of the compilation of poetry that he published...I bought it, need I say more?)

So what's that all tell you? And when you figure it out will you let me in on it?

Just go with it, right?

This morning the alarm sounded in the pitch black and I reached over and slammed the snooze button. Listening I could hear the rain. Why does it sound relentless to me today? So warm and cozy under the covers I felt no desire to get up. Wouldn't it be lovely instead to turn on the bedside lamp and just lay here and read until I felt like getting up? Again the alarm sounded so I swung my feet out of bed. It wasn't until my feet hit the smooth hardwood floor that this feeling of grumpiness came over me. I have to laugh how I can go from feeling cuddly peaceful, to foul grumpy. Even dragging myself to the coffee pot didn't help this morning. Must be a day to just go with it, eh?

A drive down to district instead of a walk....now that never helps my mood. Idiots, such idiots driving these cars, myself included if I am truthful. If it weren't for the bonechilling cold it would have been better to walk instead of drive this dreadful route. One thing always comes to mind when I drive to district.....isn't a roundabout supposed to serve a purpose???!!! There is one on my way which does nothing at all. Deadsmack in the middle of the street....not even landscaped....it serves absolutely no purpose except to make me drive slightly around to the right....there is no offshooting streets only this street with its roundabout....utterly ridiculous!!!! At least it is a quick trip and I will be home again.

The one thing that put a tiny crack in my foul mood was a song playing, You are Beautiful by James Blunt....imagine but I was thinking at that instant that it was time to burn a different cd for in the car....until I heard this soft sound underneath the music.....a tiny, lilted singer. Straining I could barely hear but by god she was singing the words....every word of the chorus softly to herself. Damn if that didn't put a bit of a damper on my now-on-a-roll grumpiness.

Today I really should get some work done. Looking at my journals and my portifolio, I realize that this move has put me almost to a dead stop. Well no excuses left....almost everything is settled now....mum and dad have left (might that be part of my foul mood today? Probably) time to get on with things. No more excuses....Get on with it Erika!

Your physical burning gets tiresome...
it pales in comparison to the yearnings of my soul.
The talk of flesh is a mere shadow of the desires of the heart.
The arousal of the body can be explained by science...
the firing of neurons, the stimulation of nerve endings.
The urgings of the soul are harder to define....
but are more ecstasy to the whole than just the stirring of the hips, the quivers of flesh, the spasms of bodily pleasure.
To have me would be to understand that.
Various physical desires I have already known...
surprise me with something different.
Stimulate my soul to bring unbearable release.

"A woman without love wilts like a flower without sun"

Hmmmm

Cancer daily horoscope in The Trentoian:

A high-maintenance attitude might bring you attention momentarily, but
it's not the lasting love you get from being comfortable. Settle in so no one
has to strain to be around you - be like a perfectly worn and beloved pair
of jeans.

High-maintenance and me.....they really don't go together. Notice how this horoscope is reminiscent of a quote that I found interesting enough to record here.


cupidity - inordinate desire, covetousness, sensuality, lust [Bailey] Unlawful or unreasonable longing [Johnson] From Latin cupiditas, desire, avidity; cupio, I wish, desire, long for. [Wedgewood]

I still am not hungry after last night's dinner at Mastori's.......
hummus, spanish olive and sweet pepper tapemade, tomato pesto, bruschetta and pita wedges for an appetitizer and then barcelona pizza - roasted chicken breast, artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes and feta cheese and a Jersey Devil (to raise that specific person's eyebrow....that was so predictable....tee hee hee I must still be 5)...and then even though I had no desire for more food, having already eaten too much, I brought home a slice of tiramisu (not the best I have even had) and an entire chocolate chip cheesecake (worth every cent of its $23.95 price tag!) I suppose I should share that with everyone....if I have to!

Canaletto London: Seen Through an Arch of Westminster Bridge

1746-1747 oil on canvas

Have you ever thought?

Have you ever thought what kind of old person you will be?

I mean have you ever given it much thought at all? Aside from what successes you might look back on in your old age, have you thought about what future you might be looking at?

For there is always a future isn't there? Perhaps it is several years, a few months, days or only a moment....there is no reason to stop living before your life has ended.

For that matter your future continues even after you die. Others carry on with memories of you, a tomb stone marks your grave, you have marked this life....maybe you don't realize it or maybe you don't want to accept it but you will/ you have/ you are making a mark in this world no matter how grand or how minor that mark is.

My mum and dad are visiting. I keep watching them and thinking about the marks they have made, both the good and the bad. I wonder if they realize it. I have tried to take the time to let them know what marks they have made on me. I wonder if they understand that their time for making a mark is ever drawing to a close. It is very difficult to see how much they have aged just within the last couple of years. Don't get me wrong, they are very vital people and I am incredibly proud of them and love to tell people that my parent's are 70 and 75 years old because they usually find it astounding. But more and more I have observed that my parents are watching life more than they are participating. Am I destine to do the same?

Today dad watched me repair the carved legs on my china cabinet using the tools he taught me how to use. Mum watched me prepare stew just like she taught me how years ago. I suppose they both noticed the touches that I have added to what they have taught me. And I can't help but wonder how it makes them feel. There was a small something in dad's eye while he helped me move the cabinet into place after I had fixed it...a very brief look of regret? melancholy? before pride took over his face. Somehow I think in the next couple of days I will hear him say to me while we are alone something about him not being as young as he once was.....not being able to do all that he once could....I hope I have the right words to remind him that none of that matters to me. I remember "once" and I will always remember.

It seems that as we age some of the stronger features of our personality become more prominent. Mum seems more negative than she used to be. Dad seems softer, less sure of himself. I always have known that side of mum but dad was always a pro at hiding this side of himself. Although sometimes it makes me uncomfortable being unaccustom to it, I am glad he can show this side now.

I wonder what type of old woman I will be. I am hoping that I will be loveably gruff and kind, a bit quirky perhaps but interesting....always interesting....so that the neighborhood children will pick my own flowers to bring to me just as I did with Mrs. Wise, as an excuse to visit me to hear what odd things I have to tell that day. I hope that I will be a bit troublesome but not so much a pain to those in my life but as a way of keeping the young ones on their toes around me.

Have you ever thought of what type of old person you might be?



FOUR Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honey’d cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

- John Keats, The Human Seasons

Misty, overcast weather has turned to dark foreboding weather. My walk in the mist last night turned into a walk in the rain. I was disappointed at first but decided...."just act like a duck"....don't hurry through the rain, just turn your face up and enjoy. (love ya for that inspiration you dear umbrellaless man) It was a glorious walk although I was drenched when I returned home. Hot bath fixed that right up.

Such an incredible dark morning. I love it, if only I could crawl into bed and spend the day undercover. ah well.

Made the mistake of driving down to district today instead of walking. My thought was that it is drizzling and cold (53 f). My blood is thin and this drop in temperature feels more severe than it would have just a few years ago. Not that I don't enjoy it. So into the car I went, and into traffic. What a pain for such a short trip! All of us fools in cars. I won't do that anytime again soon.

Just one more thought.....while I was driving in I saw a car with one of the license plate frames. It said "happiness is.....talking to my parrot" Whatever blows up your skirt I suppose!
.

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

High up above or down below
when you too in love to let it go
If you never try you'll never know
Just what your worth

Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears streaming down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears streaming down your face and I

Tears streaming down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face and I

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Coldplay - X&Y - Fix You

On a Misty Eve a Walk

With evening chores done and a nice mellow mood brewing, I decided to go out walking. I knew full well that I could use this mellow mood to my advantage. At times like this I often can achieve many more things than when I am feeling pushed and frustrated. After quickly changing out of my jeans and shirt into yoga pants and a white spaghetti strapped tank top, I laced my shoes and grabbed a zip up sweatshirt before I ran out the door. I was a bit surprised by the light drizzle as I stepped out, but decided that this mist was nothing that should keep me in. No matter, I was not dressed for the weather but I will hardly melt, so out the gate and down the street I went.
Walking quickly for this was not intended to be a leisurely stroll, I headed down towards the schools. The paved path through the wooded area was so well lit that it had a surreal quality about it and that is where you joined my on my walk. Together we walked in silence as large drops of rain gathered on the leaves. We passed the locked school, the district is still closed tomorrow. As we started to pass the play yard I glanced at you with a mischievous smile on my face before I dash away from you towards the swingsets. You stood at the road just watching me until I leaned playfully on the swing and coaxed you to follow me. Paying no heed to the damp seat I wanted to swing. Would you push me while I laughed with delight, feeling carefree and foolish? Would you allow me to sit on your lap, my legs through the swing facing you, hanging on to the chains as I straddled your waist, spider swinging as children do so that two may swing as one? Marvelous moments in which we laughed as only lovers do minding not the misty dampness of the night. Finally it is decided enough play for this walk is not over, there is more to explore.
Past the schools the street lamps are not on and darkness closes in as we walk. From the road there is a paved running path which curves gently around the woods and rolls up and down over the gentle swells of the earth. Here it is very dark with the shadow of trees along the path and our footsteps on the asphalt being the only things keeping us on track. On we walk in our adventure. Despite the mist and the coolness of this fall night, the pace of our walk is making me warm so without stopping, I took off my sweatshirt and tied it around my waist. Feeling the muscles in my calves and thighs working felt marvelous and I realized how much I have neglected exercise in the last few months, how much I miss my yoga and pilates. The mist gradually turned into a light rain, making my damp tank top cling to me and a dew gather on my exposed shoulders and upper back and chest. Are those your eyes I feel on me, straining in the dark to see what can only barely be made out? Curiousity? Longing? Together we walked with few words spoken but much said. The only things in the world were this path through the dark woods, the sounds of night crickets and raindrops, the sweet earthy smell of autumn decay and us walking along.
Before I knew it we had reached the small wooden bridge which crosses the lazily moving stream. With each step on the wooden planks I realized that I heard only one pair of footsteps, my own. As mysteriously as you had appeared beside me you had vanished. Alone and suddenly lonely on the dark path I grew uneasy and wondered about the bravery or was it foolishness that had brought me to walk such as this. Faster I walked, thinking how foolhardy of me to walk alone on a remote path through a wooded area. Suddenly I heard a branch break in the woods off to my right and for a moment my heart stopped. I listened intently for any sounds of danger and moments later thought that I heard footsteps behind me. Shaking my head, I thought to myself, "your mind is playing tricks on you. That noise was nothing more than a branch breaking due to the heaviness of water or perhaps a playful squirrel....or could it be the outlaw of Hartlip Hill?" Ha! With that enjoyable thought I finished my walk daydreaming back on the time we had spent together on this dark, damp night.

Zen is an interesting topic isn't it? It is elusive. When you try for it, it escapes you leaving you feeling frustrated and wondering where you went wrong. When you are not expecting it you find yourself in a zen state and realize you have been functioning that way for a while without your knowledge. However, almost as soon as you acknowledge that you have "achieved" it it floats from your grasp. Perhaps it is because you feel you have "achieved" it that it flies away on wings of freedom.

When you sit for it to be the most effective you must have no purpose in your sitting. How impossible that seems most days. You want answers, you want solutions, you want a plan and a purpose. None of those things can zen give you directly and all of those things will it provide to you.

Sounds like such shit doesn't it? (where are those ridiculous yahoo emoticons when I need them - I need an impish smile here)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I love driving on Odd Fellow Road. It always puts me in a wonderful mood. Morning in the soft light, afternoon in harsh light or overcast, even in mist or rain, and night with moon or without....it soothes me somehow. The asphalt is two wide lanes for the most part except where it narrows to cross the tiny bridge, nothing more than a jump over a stream, so in that regard it is unremarkable. It is the canopy of trees that stretch over the road that is the most awe inspiring. At times as closed as a cavern and at other times offering brief glimpses of the sky above. From either direction you enter this canopy out of open sky but quickly it surrounds you. It is like an accelerating passage of birth(?), transition (?) but at the same token it is peaceful, calm. I could stay in the protection that the canopy provides forever. But just as excited I am within that canopy, driving through it into the open sky again is even more exhilerating. After leaving the womb protection of the canopy, I feel almost as if I could do anything. I have found that walking through does not provide the same sensation although it is enjoyable nonetheless. Perhaps the ultimate experience would be to ride a motorcyle through it. Now I just must find someone with a cycle. Alas I know but a handful of people here right now and none of them have a cycle to my knowledge. Very dishearting. Where is N with his cute little vespa when I need him? (now that is a very good joke! wouldn't that make him laugh at me, wanting to scold me. hehe.)
Odd Fellow road is ironic. I very much resented the isolated ruralness of this place that I was brought to intially. I longed for my old stomping grounds and the ease of getting things that I desired which I had taken for granted. Over the course of the last couple of months I am growing to adore the country setting here with it quaint houses and farm markets, fields, trees and streams. And of course it has the added benefit of being within easy access of several large cities. I have my sights on a perform in NYC. Think I can get someone to take me? Probably not. Perhaps I am too homely (where's my impish grin again?) It is lovely here, now if only someone could find me a clove cig or two...nasty habit I should quit but it a small indulgence that I sometimes allow myself after I finish a project. Not even the indian owner seemed to know exactly what I wanted, such a pity.

For you, you know who you are:

Does everyone have a different take?

Do you seem real but I seem fake?

Does everyone get hypnotized by your fire?

Randomness

Condition of Life

Elia Astfjord

"When all that you know is lost, and your only rescue are the dreams you dream during the silence of the night, a lurking presence is evident ever-still."
- unknown

Only the fairy tale equates changelessness with happiness...
Permanence means paralysis and death.
Only in movement, with all its pain, is life.
- Jacob Burckhardt

Currently I am....

• craving a california wrap from the Mud Street Cafe with just water
• wishing to escape, but to where I don't really know, although I did check on tickets to Seattle today
• listening to James Blunt in particular You're Beautiful, No Bravery, Here We Go Again and I ReallyWant You
• doing paperwork, lord where do the stacks come from (anyone care to help? anyone? anyone at all?)
• despising laundry, loving ironing
• wondering if the wicked visitor to my blog will ever leave a message, or a simple thought behind (you can now do it entirely anonymously although I will know precisely who you are)
• missing the ocean sounds and smells terribly

Currently I am....

• reading from The Complete Tales & Poems Edgar Allan Poe
• stuck on listening to Damien Rice and Secret Garden (feeling kinda mellow)
• craving mus-man (I really miss that thai restaurant round the corner from my old place...most excellent)
• despising the fact that I am still trying to settle in here
• missing sitting on the patio sipping drinks with L & M & S
• loving the gorgeously rainy, fall day we have had today
• wondering how S is doing and does he know I am still worried about him (of course he does)
• wanting to go on a walk but not feeling like getting drenched
• feeling like taking a long, hot bath since I can't go for that walk
• wanting some spatlese (good thing there is a bottle chilling in the fridge right now)

Well since the walk doesn't seem to be in the cards perhaps opening the bathroom window to listen to the rain, filling the tub with bubbles, lighting the candles, putting on Damien Rice, sipping some wine, slipping into the tub and reading is in order....after all it definitely can't hurt, right?

Last night I was out again in the meadow watching
the waning moon as the dog sniffed and played.
It was neither hot nor cold as the weather had
been beautiful yesterday.
And it was silent as only a night meadow can be.

A gentle breeze was blowing, softly caressing my skin.
And as I closed my eyes and lifted my arms upwards,

I felt your hand slide out of mine…
I felt your finger tips slip through mine as you stepped away.
I felt the breeze brush my skin sensually, like soft kisses and gentle licks.

I thought of a book I had read about spinning naked on a wizard’s stone,
how the breeze would feel,
the sheer pleasure of the caresses on my naked body
while being bathed in the moon light….
the sensual, sexual freedom that might be experienced
which brought a tickle of a smile to my lips.

When I stopped spinning,
the mist that was gathering around me softened my view of you.
I could just make out the outline of your body
and the look on your face as you caressed me with your eyes,
explored all of me that stood before you vulnerable and naked.
And then the mist obscured you from my view…

and I realized that you had never been there
and a tear come to my eye as I walked back up to the house.

But the thought of dancing naked on the wizard’s stone stayed with me
and brought back the play of a smile to my lips
as I recalled the sensation of that breeze,
so like a lover’s hand and yet not like a lover’s touch.

This piece was written during a time of what was actually lovely solitude. It is not a polished piece. Instead it is the rapid placing of pen to paper in order to capture a moment's thought.

ZMM

I just finished reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. And I loved it but I expected to.

In the Reader's Guide by the author Robert M. Pirsig he states "Like any great work of art, it frustrates as much as it enchants." While this might sound egotistical on the author's part it accurately expresses something that I have never been able to put words to. All the books that I have loved have an element of frustration for me. They are simple and yet they go beyond a simple explanation of what makes them great.

So after reading ZMM, I am left with some questions.

1. How do we know what is true and what is not true?
2. Quality? Virture? Dharma?
3. What makes us who we are?
4. Can, and should, we work to change ourselves to fit an idea of who we want to be?

Perhaps there are no easy answers, no correct interpretations....the journey being its own reward.

ARGGHH!!!!

So yesterday evening I tried to post something. Blogger really needs to warn me better if they are going to go down for maintainence! I lost the post but it didn't really matter....it still had me thinking.

So I went for a walk after losing that post. And then I watched Lost (not sure why I like that show....I didn't watch the first season until mom bought the dvd). After that I went to bed and laid there writing in my journal. I finally wrote the truth that has been haunting me for the last couple of months. I am unhappy. I am responsible for that. So I spent a couple of pages talking to myself about it and about what would change this feeling. Today I am working on it. Maybe I will post part of it here as public record (lol). Sometimes having others know what I am planning to do keeps me to my plans.

I like to collect quotes and saying, even just words that strike me. I found a couple yesterday.

"I'm looking in on the good life I might be doomed to never find. Without a trust or flaming fields am I too dumb to be refine?"

She stood in front of me, her tough subway face on, dark hair and low cut jeans, and behind my sunglasses I was distracted and decided to photograph her with my eyes. She wasn't young anymore, but not old, either. Her body wasn't perky anymore, but not saggy, either.

Like I said, she wasn't young, and her body had the comfortable shape of something that's been used as it's intended, but still has so much life left yet. A worn glove, a fading t-shirt, ragged jeans, all these things are similar, but all sound too bad for my intent. Imagine all those things as yours, and you made them that way, and they make you feel happy just seeing them, and that's what her body was like.

More Bad Poetry

I am afraid of death not realizing that I am dead already.

Want to soar to the heights
but seem bound by responsibility.
Can only soar within the confines of this cage.
This cage……..
whether real or imagined
Holds me tight.

Soaring........
a dream for others.
The heights unlimited……..
Without bounds……..
Freedom
Success
Happiness

Others………
To live for others always
To forget self and live for others
Always………
and forever others.

Self……..
To live for self
Never
To forget others and live for self
An alien concept
That for some might work.

An empty shell waiting………
Waiting for the others to fly………
To see them soar………
To heights yet unknown.
Freedom
Success
Happiness

And then to not be afraid of death knowing that I am dead already.

The End or Just the Beginning

The Dance of a Dying Leaf

Weak early winter afternoon sunlight
Cold refreshing air with the kiss of a promise of cold
Tentative gushes of wind rattling the leaves yet bound to the tree
One lonely brown leaf releases its tenacious hold
Held aloof for a moment
Triumphant dancing freely through the sky…..

All too soon the dance is over
Presumed freedom crashes to the earth
To lie still in the once green now crisp grass
The predicted end for that final freedom dance…..

A more insistent breeze
A tentative flutter of movement
And the dance is on again
Free of the constraint that bound it to the tree
Free from the normal expectations of a leaf….

And the dance begins again
Tumbling freedom across the dormant grass
Not the end but only the beginning
New journeys and adventures for the lone leaf
As the other leaves bound to their trees look on…..

A gust of wind
And more brown leaves
Emboldened by the freedom dance
Release their tenacious hold on their branch
The supposed end, only the beginning.