I love the smell, the warmth, and the fragility that accompanies the age of an old book. There’s also something about the way it feels in my hands that tends to ignite my curiosity. Making me wonder just how many fingers have passed over its pages before mine.
Thoughts hover like a storm cloud in my mind morphing into a tornado.
Decisions, obligations and responsibilities collide with fear, love, pain and joy causing my head to pound like thunder.
A whirlwind of questions strike my brain and shatter like wreckage being thrown through a window.
Where has the time gone? Have I done enough? Where should go from here? What should I do next? Where do I want to live? Can I trust them? What do I want? Am I good enough?
I search for the answers that are buried amongst the carnage and scattered debris. Attempting to put my life back together in the calm stillness that now ensues; in the aftermath of the storm.
My Own Prison
I lay here once again sucked into the vortex that keeps me pinned down in this room.
My mind wanders about offering an array of suggestions for my next move. Only, just as I begin to take action. My mind tosses about yet, another suggestion in effort to distract me from my goal of escaping.
It’s become apparent to me that there was never any good intentions behind these suggestions at all. As this was merely the motive of the malicious vortex’s whole existence.
False hope masked behind maniacal trickery to keep me locked inside. A form of hell really. Forcing me to stay planted exactly where I am; as the life is sucked right out of me.
When I’m finally able to break free from the shackles that bind me. The air becomes easier to breathe and I begin to slowly soften and unfold.
The rigor-mortis state of my body starts to lessen and I begin to bloom. My arms and legs stretch out like the petals of a daisy and my heart opens to greet the morning sun.
Awakening me to the person I was…prior to my involuntary incarceration.
The Non-Perishable Bag of Hope
Though my faith has yet to grow weary, the bag of hope I’ve been holding on to has become heavy and I am tired. Sweat drips from my brow and is fused with my tears. All the while, I am still here dragging it along.
The hope that is held within the bag has begun to shift and change form since I first filled it. Like that soft bag of brown sugar that’s been forgotten in the back of the pantry. The one that’s now been transformed into a brick so solid that it could be used to pave a driveway or break a window.
I’ve held on to this bag of hope for so long, that I’ve forgotten all that I put into it. Or even why I was hoping for it in the first place. Like the tattoo so many people chose to get on their 18th birthday. You know the one they had to have because, surely they would always want that barbed wire armband or that butterfly flying out of the crack of their ass. It surely seemed like a good idea at the time.
I think it’s time that I should sort through my bag of hope and take stock of all that I’ve put inside. Perhaps my bag of hope would become lighter if I chose to discard all of the expired and spoiled content I've been carrying inside.
Maybe some of the very things we’ve hoped for in the past were meant to expire all along. Could it be that the sole purpose of dragging this heavy bag of hope around for all of these years was merely a preparation of some kind? All in effort to increase my strength and stamina to provide me with the endurance that I’d need for the long road ahead?
I’m not sure of much anymore. However; what I do know is that after I purge all the hope I no longer need. All the hope that no longer serves my highest good, and all the hope that has lost its flavor and become molded from within this heavy bag. Whatever past hope still remains and whatever new hope is placed inside…
It will most definitely be NON-PERISHABLE.
Nothing goes unseen.
One way or another…
You’ll get what you give.
Positive or Negative
The choice is yours.
Rising in LOVE
I have decided to no longer use the expression, “falling in love.” I have used it countless times in the past to describe the depths of love I have for another. However; upon further thought and experience with love, I have come to the conclusion that it makes little sense to me. Love does not slam me to the ground which is the inevitable fate of falling. While it can be sudden and make us feel vulnerable, I think love would be more accurately described as a feeling of elevating or rising. Lifting me to a higher state of being altogether.
I would compare it to the feeling that is felt when flying in the air while jumping on a tramline or swinging high on a swing set. To me, love is more like a continual state of those few seconds when your feet are lifted off the ground and all you see are the clouds in the sky. When your stomach seems to delay its arrival from meeting the rest of your body, because it’s being filled with butterflies. That short window of time spent in weightless freedom from within the fleeting moment. The one you cherish and absorb every nano-second of just before it comes to an end. The seizing of that very moment is what love feels like to me.
Love transcends not deeper, but higher and higher, that is until its downfall. This descend, when one falls out of love or is thrown from it, that is like falling. Falling from heights for which the fate of your survival is uncertain. Pushing you down deeper and deeper until there is no more oxygen left to breathe. The bright clouds that once surrounded you become dark just before you crash. Leaving you to walk blindly into the unknown in search of all the scattered pieces of yourself. Once you’ve exhausted the energy that is needed to walk. You are then forced to resort to crawling in an attempt to not fall into the unseen pits of darkness that sink you even deeper than before. This is falling.
Being in love with another is an elevating force that inspires you to claw your way back to the surface, tired, dirty, and utterly unrecognizable. Providing you with the light from above that you need to see your way through the darkness to find your missing pieces. It’s the glue that fills the empty spaces from within and makes you into an upgraded version of the person you were before. The more light from love you allow inside of yourself, the higher love will take you. Love wraps you in its arms and becomes your sanctuary. It warms your cold body and lifts your heart giving you hope, strength, and shelter as you ascend higher and higher.
No longer will I fall into love, but my heart is open to rising in it.
My heart and soul are tired and sore. Like aching muscles after hiking for miles to reach a summit that may only be a mirage.
After the horrible event. I drove him to my home to eat and to feel what a bit of normalcy felt like again. His broken spirit plagued my heart of the sadness and confusion he must be feeling after losing pretty much everything that he owned.
But the moment I recall the most was the cut on his finger. Although it was not deep enough to stop to beams of light that radiated from his perfect hand. The longing for the pieces of himself that were seemingly missing now cried out in the blood as I rinsed his pain away.
I gently wrapped his wound with as much love and compassion as one person could give to another. I tried to make myself believe that I was healing him, as I longed to make his world right once again.
Although he may not have realized, I felt the softness of his eyes, stare down at me as I gently wrapped is precious finger. When I looked up and into his grayish green eyes peering down at me, I was transported to the depth of his soul. His eyes were so kind, broken, and yet so thankful.
This is one memory that as been etched in my mind for eternity. In that moment that our eyes met, I knew and understood all of the secrets of his soul.
I am a ball of confusion, covered in the delusion, that one day I will find what I search for... my solution.
For now I am bound and tied to this town; where all of the questions in my mind compound.
Beam me up and blast me away, remove all these feelings that I carry in my day.
Walk me to the light with confidence and strive, all the while reassuring me that everything will be alright.
Make me not afraid of all the things that I fear, but make me a warrior so that I may be healed.
Take me off this merry-go-round, but please cushion my fall. Let it toss me into the light where I hear my name being called.
Allow gravity to heal the pain that is felt from within, to make me become better than I have ever been.