With one touch an unconscious craving is brought to surface of a seemingly boundless sea. One touch, one word, one look and the calm surface becomes sensation. A sensation conjured by a physical connection. instinctual energy reacts with ripples of excitement, radiating from a core over the surface until it reaches the end of sensation only to return to my core. Never loosing its intensity. Emotions from below the surface just look upon the excitement floating above, unable to shame or desert. Emotions with gaping mouths waiting to swallow my soul. Emotions of all colors leaping through the ocean, leaping for the falling rain. Unable to swallow all the tears. Hear my proposition of the moment and not a second longer. Cover my surface with ripples, overwhelm my senses, alow my emotions to settle the hunger and retreat to their depths. You my superficial darling floating on the placid surface unaware of the depth,I will apease you. I will taste you. I will enjoy you.
To journey March 7, 2010
at the bequest of a friend I was able to sitting on a spiritual journey session. During this session we attempted to group our energy and thought process to draw rain for the area. He explained it not as a creating a rain cloud in our specific location but as a draw for regional rain. the instruction was to think of your favorite place in all its detail and imagine that the rain was falling. the idea was to feel the rain, smell the rain, touch the rain, as if you were currently there in it. He also explained that he would provide a cadence that would mimic theta waves via a drum beep. THeta waves were explained as the joining of the left and right side of the brain. I’m curious to the neurological science associated with the description. During psychology class yesterday we discussed tonal similarities between mothers and the infants in times of caring and times of discipline. It was found that significant similarities were found in the tonal cadence and wave form for many cultures and nationalities. This makes me curious about the relation to such cadence and wave forms that are sounded by the drum. Is there an underlying tone that rings true for us all and why?
As we as a group began our session of calling the rain I closed my eyes and began to imagine my place. A black pebble beach with a full moon. The waves would roll up the beach bringing with it the small pebbles that would create a tapping, that would crashindo as the wave would peak on the beach and then a slight pause before it would start again as the wave would peak. I attempted to stay on track when I saw a person on the far side of the beach. A person that was physically unrecognizable but was known without the physical expression. I realized that I was straying from the specified task and attempted to direct my self back into the enviroment and reduce the image but he was always there. I finally gave up on making rain and began to watch the image in the rain excited at first by the pending approach. Thoughts of reunion were lifting my soul when I began to realize that his steps though they implied movement did not allow for travel. He was frozen in his own space without the potential of reaching me again. I turned to my left to see a grouping of palm trees that were dense enough to protect from the down pour. Taking my place under the leafs a began to become part of the leaves and rain. The leaves layering my head and the rain mimicking my tears. I stood there until I could no longer see through the leaves that hung from me. When I raised my arms to pull my veil away I noticed another being standing next to me, unfamiliar in every way. My hand became inclosed by his and the rain stopped. We both looked up watching the soul in the distance. Same place, same movements without progress. As the rain began to slow the image faded, as every raindrop fell it seemed to take the color from the image walking in the sand, until he no longer stood there. The soul beside me created a bed of leaves that we appeared upon lying next to one another, holding hands. I attempted to decipher facial features but was unable to bring any kind of focus above the shoulders. I then became a spectator to my own body. I floated above the to figures that were flayed out below me like two offering of fish. The colors changing in their severity and complexity creating a soup of glazed brilliance. The images lying flat with there legs dangling slight ly over an edge. THe chest open to the elements exposing the heart and great vessels. The water began to come again in intensity, running down the center fold of the leaves,, crashing into the sides of our bodies as if we were the land reacting the waves. Water poured over our limbs and into our chest filling every crevasse washing all clear and healing.
2/13/10 February 13, 2010
Wow, moments of experience over my rapidly changing out look on life. The only thoughts that seem to stay constant are joy, thankfulness and curiosity. Should I continue with this process through out my life should I never be board. I feel my experiences cross hatching my life, line by line the decorations for complete existence falling into place. I am shocked into awareness daily by moments of enlightenment that seem to have some underlying objective. Questions feel my mental space of who , how, what when, can I change things. Then an overwhelming peace that proceeds with knowledge that things are as they should be. Contradictions in my life are acceptable.
snap crackle pop November 10, 2009
Whirling whistle, snap….pop..pop
A dog begins to bark on the patio….a human begins to bark in the line.
He must feel tension created by his awkward expression.
Whistle… click…chirp
I feel the need to express the same gutteral noises. They flow so freely from his throat.
Snap… whistel….ohhhh
I dont envy his insecurities but I do envy his excuss.
Im jumping with or without you October 14, 2009
1....2......3.......Ohhh shit
Im jumping with or without you. In my swirling anxiety and internal ache that has saturated my life for the last couple weeks I attempted to convince myself that you were the stone that I would be required to land on. That if you were not underfoot, I would slip. I was convinced that if I trusted that you would be there and you were not, my fall could be harmful. I hesitated out of an unwillingness to chance a fall, for in my mind without you, there would not have been a chance. Thoughts circled in my mind as how to trust you, desperately looking for some traction. What depths I took my self to, just to find a lack of solidarity. Nothing solid in you, in me, in physicality of life. Emotionally I shut off. Gave up the effort of finding confirmation and quit. There I was sitting in my own fear, swallowed in an emotion that was not important to me. Playing this image over and over in my head when I realized. You are not my ledge, you are not my traction, you could never hold me up. Nore would I want you to.
In my dream you are there on the other side. Shouting words of confidence. In my dreams you are embracing me with open arms when I find the courage to leap. You are there to show me courage when mine has faded.
In the truth of it I could jump, landing freely on the other side without you there to catch me. Without your words of encouragements I would land were I should, when I should. I will land softly, but your arms will be missed, your words will be missed, your laughter and silly dancing will be missed. The travels will just not be the same without you. You will be missed BB
September 29, 2009
Why now? What is different? Who is different? Is it because you feel me pulling away, unable to immersed myself in the pain again? Is it because you believe that I have found someone else to replace you?
I need you to understand this step is not easy for me, confusion and mistrust has taken hold of even our friendship. At this time we have difficulty even being friends, how are we to have a relationship that brings out more demons.
These are not judgments for you but questions. Questions that my heart wants so desperately to have answered. Answered in a way that would allow a release of guilt, mistrust and the growth of an amazing relationship.
My tongue has been held sence your words the other night, not out of an intention to cause you pain, but out of uncertainty of my emotions.
I can not enter a relationship with mistrust. I must find a way to let it all go. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? How can I grow if I did let it all go? How could I grow if I let it all go and let you go? Would I be filled with empowered self confidence or would I always wonder, as you say you would? Is there a right or wrong answer?
I dont feel so. I believe there is just life. Moments to grow and learn from. Times that you can become fluid with life. Take chances
This is not love August 15, 2009
This is not love.
Love is passion without burden. Love was an unexpected touch.
This is not love.
Love is vibrant and flowing. Love was when thoughts were spoken without restrictions.
This is not love.
Love is full of life and movement. Love was a curious dance.
This is not love.
Love was truthfull, caring. Love was anticipation of thoughts.
Love is not to be held, capture, shakeled. Love is not to be mistrusted, questioned, falsified.
A Sweltering Day July 27, 2009
The sun is striking my shoulder, causing a sensation past the feeling of warmth. Each ray seemingly wiggling its way into my pores creating the panicked need to find the next shade shelter. I force my bike to carry me over obstacles that in some peoples opinion should not be overcome on foot. Some sections of this trail require multiple attempts, steady calves, pogo stick balance, and a reinforced determination.
After one such successful section I came across a creature that was intended for such an environment. A creature covered with velvety furr sprawled out on a dirty patch of shade. His belly fully exposed in an attempt to keep cool . Lifting his head just enough to eye me, the lazy gaze attempting to find me to be friend or foe before relaxing back into the dirt. I thought how funny it was that he had no fear of me, as I eased toward him for a picture. Within a few feet of him, I positioned the image in the view finder. I noticed a movement in the back ground. I was surprised to find a set of oval eyes and antlers peaking around a pine tree only feet from where my furry friend was resting. I could not have been more surprised.
Shortly after a muscle clad biker with a determined disposition came swooping down the trail. My fuzzy friend removed him self from the trail , diving into the shrubs. I spent the next few minutes enjoying the view before continuing on up the trail. Thoughts of what might lie ahead, just out of view keep my focus off the immediate grind.
Raven 2
Again I awake with this dread and panic that seems to have become part of my mornings. Lying there in a delusional state of wake, creating visions of pain. Wanting to reach out to anyone that can listen to me, but choosing to stay bundled in my painful emotions and my over sized comforter until the sun cooks me into life. No more lazy stretching morning with excited thoughts of the day to come. The panic will fade as more time is spend away from him. Until the next mistake of getting to close and bam I’m back at the starting gate again. Again and again I hurt my self for small pieces of the man i want to love. Do I love him at all? Is this another way of punishing myself? Has he become my raven. Do I choose to keep only a few close so that I can self punish when ever I feel deserving?
Notes to self July 22, 2009
Employers in my profession instruct new hires to reduce stress with exercise and a healthy life style. The use of alcohol and drugs is not recommended due to the underlying problem not being resolved. I have been known to argue the same point about antidepressants and mood altering drugs. I bought into this instruction in the past due to the later of the information being so evidently true. I assumed that exercise and healthy living would reduce stress, but I have not found resolution to underlying problems in such activity. A day on my mountain bike bleeds away mental frustration only to return as I slow my pace on the quite drive home. Load music does not drown out the confusion that swirls endlessly. Yoga creates a day of mind-full thinking but I inevitably return my thoughts to panic constructions of self loathing. I hear friends protests of frustration with life requiring too much effort to stay in a joyous frame of mind, and have experienced it through my own attempts. So what is the answer? I don’t know, but my panicked thoughts lead me back to past experiences that are unresolved. That must be addressed but in all actuality might never be resolved. Experiences that are exposed in times of excessive alcohol intake, or moments of solitude that are not complete in peacefulness but are burdened with circular thoughts. What do I do with the fear of life. It seems such a silly question for some one that has had a life so full of goodness. Yet the question is still in my heart. Is it to be a change of thought process, positive thinking. Could it be as simple as a choice to see the world as full of beauty. This concept is not complete for me either, for without knowing the evil in the world how could you appreciate the beauty that results. To banish the bad thoughts, to remove memory of disrespectful deeds, to deny that people are capable of evil is not in line with understanding of our life. To allow others faults and find beauty out of them seems to fall in line with a truth. Giving freely of compassion and understanding, brings beauty to our lives. It does not extinguish the evils of life it just allows for beauty to become the focus.
How does this become part of our daily life, and how do we keep our own demons from entering into our ability to allow others there faults? We are not perfect, nor should we be. I believe those times are when you need to rely on others that care for you. Care enough to be your focus when you are incapable of seeing beauty in yourself. Allow you to realign your thoughts so that you view the world for all its beauty.
Dad July 21, 2009
Just thinking of you two.
To the outside world we all grow old. But not to Sisters and Dads. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.
Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.
I love you little one and littlest.
Your Dad
Vision July 12, 2009
A picture I drew as a child has been reverberating in my mind for many years now. The image was of a slight bony girl with her face covered by hair. The girl stood on a rock out cropping, with bear feet, toes curled over the edge, the palms of her hands hidden in the mass of untamed hair. The image was drawn on white paper with black charcoal. The image itself was nothing amazing. I am not even certain that if others had seen it, that it would have elicited a response of emotion, but for me it did. The physical image itself is long gone, left somewhere along my journey. Yet my minds image will not leave me.
Like many images in my thoughts some antagonise my soul, some bring me peace, others do nothing but appear without explanation or expression, they are just as they are. Recently I have had a recurrent image of feet griping onto pink granite, not stagnant in an attempt to hold fast, but full of movement as if to enjoy the texture of the stone. The vision is seen through flowing radiant hair that is lit by the sun, and moved by the wind. Hands that are open moving through the image as if to symbolize dance, have appeared in the most recent images.
When I first began to notice the images I attempted to label the feeling it invoked, without success. I then attempted to describe the images with the brilliance that I have seen in the vision. Once again I have come up short of the words to express. Then my old drawing struck me with such force that I felt silly for not relating the two before…….
Dream2
Voice: You deceptive bitch, lying whore, not worth the effort to care fore. Your mother could not even stand you. She left you in a mess of emotional shit because you have noting to offer. You destroy lives and hopes of others that you come in contact with. You do not deserve love. Dig your pit, jump in, fall face first into the hell you deserve. Choke on the rotten carcases you are surrounded by. Swallow the stale water of piss and decay. Take it all in, this is you. Don’t try to pull your self out, you can’t make it.
The thin twine tightens with every kick, I cant make it.
Voice: Beauty and truth is not for you to see, you are to be filled with a self induced hell.
Created by yourself, engineered to cause the most damage possible.
Voice: Pull your self out you stupid whore. Cant do it can you! No, you cant. You are noting but a hole for men, something for there physical pleasure you have noting to offer but a open wound for them to thrust into. Scream all you want but this is you, in all your false glory. Enjoy the pain it is your only release. Lull yourself into acceptance with the screaming.
As scream echos back to me, I can find no answer. I feel that I have fallen long ago, denial keeps me from my escape.
Voice: You are shit.
As the mega phone splashes down behind me, the voice stops. A momentary pause, then I move quickly with panic, without organized thought. I pull myself through the sewer, until the twine becomes taught, splaying my legs out behind me. It is just out of reach, the plastic shell turns under my finger tips. Every effort creates pain, every breath is stagnant and putrid. I pull with my last effort. It is there in my hand, excited breaths cause choking, legs bend to pull me back to the wall. I stand grasping the mega phone to my chest, digging my toes into the ground. My body shakes uncontrollably, excitement, fear, pain. I push the button. Nothing…..I scream…..Nothing. No voice comes out of me. I scream my silences and push the button until I wake.
Variations of this dream have been repeated over the last few months. Every version with new torturous words and actions. The repetition of it is what scares me the most. The act of it returning leaves me with a feeling of needed resolution. Who is the voice, is a question that replays in my waking moments after the dream. I could designate it to many in my life but I believe it is my own conscience. When I am fearful or exposed I place the designation of the voice on those close to me. Creating a responsibility and burden they should not have to shoulder.
sword May 28, 2009
A fit-full rest that is rarely complete, moved by malicious emotions. My emotions swirl, seemingly within my chest, forming a tangible shift in space, thought, and emotions. How do you do this to me? When were you able to enter me so completely and how should you be removed without causing injury.
The metal scrapes the calcification that encloses my chest, movement creates the sensation of vibration and pain. Every breath creates an unnecessary movement.
If I could just convince the breath to stop the pain would follow so closely. No that will not do without breath there is no hope, without hope my determination can not be followed.
Imagination sets in diluting the pain, with imagined visions of how that swords must be glistening in side my chest, settled between organs without disruption. Rainbows of flesh settled on steal, create images of such beauty in pain.
I tighten my grip around that jeweled sword, grasping its useless handle in an attempt to settle into rest.
A kites tale May 12, 2009
A breeze to move soft hair, just slightly brushing a silken cheek warmed by the morning sun. Air rich with the many shades of blue pass threw open lips to lungs pink with life. With every movement renewal of breath. As a women her heart leads, as it should for every women. She walks carefully behind her heart, holding the thread woven delicately into a shape that resembles her passion, truth and hopes.
Another tug of the rope, legs kicking excitedlyare kissed by a silken dress. A life that could be, running through her mind, jumbled with fear and hope like she has never known. As her rational thought returns, she unconsciously tugs at her heart. Once it has been pulled into view again, her grip loosens. She looses herself in lovely dreams of a life she desires to live. The wind blows, and her grip is without tension, allowing the string to slide without notice. Her mind, full of hope for a lover that could understand unspoken desires. A lover that could move with her through a life less ordinary, allowing her to be as she should be. A great wind comes at her from the valley, its approaches unnoticed, distracting dreams and denial. Planted old trees moan, swaying out their warning. Yet she is lost in the need for a home, that could envelope her when the world is no longer possible. Her eyes clear, with a panicked tug her mind finds the moment again, just as the air moves. Her grip tightness with panic, the wind blows, pulling her in directions she never thought she would go. The beautiful valley is now covered with clouds that release moistening rain. Her strength surprises her, as the rain strikes her face her tears fall. She knows that the clouds are ominous and the direction of the wind leads to unforgiving territory. Her lungs full of breath, and her heart no longer hers, she fumbles to let go. The string tightens around her wrist, a bead a blood tints its edges. In her mind she is certain of her choice but she can not break free. As her heals are lifted off the ground, legs no longer kicking with excitement, panic becomes her. With only one arm free she grasps for something to hold her, the string breaks. She is left without pain, or remorse, as her thoughts become clear.
The storm moves on, the sun shows so clearly through the washed sky. Every color is heightened, as the beauty of the valley is palpable. Her breath still with her, she takes he place under a old cotton wood tree. There she removes the remaining string, and nurses her wound. She rest with her back to the old tree, the full view of the magnificent valley observed through freshened eyes. There she will rejoice until her heart calls again. When it does she will set off with a crimsom net woven from her string.
Influenced April 10, 2009
As I am part of this world, I am part of a day, I am part of others lives, I am influenced.
self-determination, self-reliance, self-sufficiency
determination, reliance, sufficiency
Inexact Romance March 15, 2009
Nope, the prince charming riding up on his horse, hair plastered, teeth perfect, is just not for me. The damsel waiting for rescue from the next passing testosterone-driven torso, does not make me want to find a way to faint into ones path. Movies with the perfect love story, beginning to ending, with no substance are mass-produced and swallowed by anyone that feels possessed by their current emotions. The thought of requiring rescue from potentials of life, to be placed into a confined simplicity does not inspire me. These ideals are just not for me. My favorite love stories are the ones that are unrequited, imperfect, undeveloped, or just plain realistic.
I have been driven to live upon a whim, but until now I never thought I could do the same in love, to experience every layer, from fleating moments, to long-loved relationships. I am captivated by the emotions of romance, the changes of relationships and the pain that emotions can create. My hope is to live a life overwhelmed with passion and uncertainty, balanced with agony and filled with every moment in between. The swirling of my consciousness to such new feelings makes me want to rush into the next potential experience, to be overwhelmed by emotion. Instead I settle my self into a soft booth, sip my coffee, and peruse the menu with a smile on my face and a lovelorn stomach.
colors March 11, 2009
Ingesting colors, devouring the substance of them. seeping back through open pores to become part of the world again. I clamor to hold the magnificence of it all in, holding onto noting tangible .
Brilliance covers all as far as the eye can see. Mesmerised by the change of direction, yet still aware that i am to be pummelled in only seconds by violent orchestration of violet, blue, amber. I find steadiness of my feet then smack, pain that is so internal, every color moving through flesh as though flesh was mercury. The pain is teased with warmth , anchored by excitement. I glance over my shoulder to see the brilliance for a little longer, with all sensations still fully intact. As the distance grows anxiety sets in, nearing panic. Once again a change of direction, indigo, gold, chartreuse change direction, auqua marine, chartreuse, jade, cobalt, safire.
Balance
The balance of a soul is continually in flux, with sensitive to every changing wind. The deepest dug root, grasping at the nutrients of the darkness. Balanced by the fluttering, sun warmed leaf, exposed to all as the potentials of life. To settle on understanding only one or the other would allow for the unsteady tree to fall, withering in the sun. The roots alone would loose purpose, and become dissolved by the earth. One without the other, the balance of life is lost.
Within the spirit of a women there is a balance between feminine and masculine. Through the experiences derived from the men in my life, a balance has been formed. Men once thought to be strong and unwavering have been found to cower. The unflawed images of my childhood have been covered with scars. This does not lessen them as men, in my eyes it gives them depth, balance, that was not there before. It allows me a freedom to experience them as whole individuals. They are not required to guard me as I had once thought. It allows me to embrace them as they have embraced me, completely.
My father with his minimal words of emotional anguish stands firm, his stance as a father only buckling under the stress of life to his spiritual beliefs. His inability to speak freely of his anger, hurt, love, hope was hidden behind bathroom doors. Behind those doors he knelt nightly releasing all his emotions to a god he can not touch. A god that has the power to remove the wounds from my father so that he can stand the next morning. I thought that our similarities came from our ability to find solidarity in our ideas as not to require truth of our beliefs. Though a stern certainty is not required in every day of my life I have found that it holds me against the winds of change when it is needed. My father is always with me, as his father is for him. Through his eyes I am a capable women that is independent with piggy tails in my hair. Through his eyes I become me.
My Grandfather shows me such an unconditional love. I will forever be the blond haired, blue eyed little girl that he fell in love with so many years ago. I reflect back to him images of my mother and grandmother, so bitter sweet. He is a man of many times. Times of joy and plenty. Times of pain and loss. One moment without the other could not be. To have lost so much and stand so tall is unfathomable, he is beautiful to me. His words of the past feel me with a freedom to live as I should. Completely without restrictions of social normality. Through his eyes I can see my potential.
My friend who had once had the potential of a lover, but is now to me a brother. One who I thought for the longest time only saw what I put forth to be seen. I have found that my friend knows more of me than I wanted to admit. He inspires me to live with for my passions without missing a moment to be. I see through his family the love that I desire. Through his eyes I can see my enchantment, for I feel beautiful.
I have now become the balance in another life, a feminine influence. My nephew who thinks of me as a super hero of some sort. Although proven not to be invincible. He observes my responses, reaction, action, emotions in an attempt to determine who he will be. I notice his glances and embrace them with such joy and responsibility. I now know how my father and my grandfather fell in love with me. This child so soon to be a man is so full of possibility and hope. It is contagious in his spirit. Let the winds blow through his life. May his roots hold firm and his branches lift to his heavens. As the storms pass let him stand proudly under a rainbow of a life well lived. Let him see through my eyes the beauty of his soul. Let me be his feminine balance.
Long Distance
You touch me with your words, forming hands from a distance. They flow over me as I long for your presents. Every breathe in succession causes me to flutter to my core. Images of your hand over the arch of my back, movements flowing through me filling me with your presents makes me desire completion. I long to be completely exposed to you. I desire to know all of you.
:)
So things change, people change, life can not be stagnant. In learning to embrace the changes I am learning to live. When the pain is all consuming there must still be breath. When joy can be found you must embrace it. When you become complacent you must agnolage. How lucky I am for every breath.
so I see January 27, 2009
How do I begin to release to love again. Im not talking about the immediate emotions but to truly accept all of someone without guarding against every action. I find myself looking for reasons to detach emotionally from anyone close to me. It was once unperceived in my actions. It is now overwhelmingly obvious, causing a distraction in my life. It starts with a closeness to someone through open understanding. Emotions indicate a need to draw that someone close, near enough to be emotionally damaging. Then without realizing it I find faults, or triggers that allow me to reason putting up emotional walls. Walls meant to protect from what? I hide behind that wall in my state of self righteousness, sure that the little bit of action is enough to hunker down in self protection mode. Until I once again feel lonely enough to be exposed once more. It takes so much effort to realize when I do this. Many emotional waves must be sorted through just to see the truth of it. I have found that it plays a part in all my relationships that have any substance. I have found that in times of turmoil, even my family is pushed away. People who, in there imperfect ways have absolutely no intention of hurting me. If I continue in this way how can I ever hope to completely accept, understand, and love someone. Fear is so insidious that it sneaks in and can be easily disguised by reason. To challenge fear in mundane actions in my life, has become nothing more that an emotional adrenaline rush. Tasks that have to be conquered seemingly without much effort. The real challenge is acknowledging emotional fear, which is not so easily placed on a task list. I pray for courage with my emotions, and truth in my understanding.
mom January 26, 2009
How must you have felt. You received notice that your independence was over, your ability to walk was not long from expiring. Life as independent as it was will never be again. You had become isolated in your personal relationship with yourself, unable to reach out and share your fears with others. You chose a path that was not completing for you but you were unable to admit your fault. You trudged on chin up, false smile. Your inner turmoil would not allow you to be a mother. You were no longer capable of directing the path a your children’s lives, not even in the most simple decisions. As your pain grew our path became even more difficult, chaos became our lives. One parent angry, the other broken nether selfless.
Your selfishness caused me pain to which I became angry. My perception of your weakness caused me to lash out at any one that showed similarity to you. If they show weakness they could possibly injury me as badly as you have. This weakness also showed up in me causing self-loathing that became a reason to destroy myself. I did this until I was a shell of who I could be.
You went quite in our world and began to scream in our souls. Now we are lost. To be angry at you brings guilt. To miss you brings loneliness. To remember you brings loss of happiness. You were once so perfect to me. So perfect that you did not require a thought, you would always be there. Without question you were forever my guardian. I looked up to you in so many ways, until your cracks began to show.
Every thing you were is in me. I remember the day I realized you had scars from your surgery. I could not fathom why you would do such a thing to yourself. In my eyes you were so perfect but In your own there was imperfection. I then became imperfect. You choose to leave my father without an explanation, and sent me a way with him. I them became unlovable. You attempted to convince me to come back to you with trinkets and gifts. I then began to put my worth in possessions. You were not there for me to ask questions about my emotions. I became strange and unapproachable. You became flawed in my eyes and i became angry in yours. One emotion balancing the other in a continuous cascade that might never end, then you ended. Every emotion, every pain, every fear became mine. At a time in my life when I should have been able to discover myself, I became the worst of you. For many years I have attempted to shed the layers of me that were so faulty in you. The layers of you that I wove into a shrouded teenager. I became a master at tearing individuals down that might get close to me. If I was acknowledged for anything other than what I wanted to be seen as I would attack. There were so many people that just wanted to help. I would send them a way with judgement perpetrated on the self image. How cruel I had become, in my isolated hell. It took the isolation to allow me to see how guarded I was. After much work I believed that I was starting to free myself. I felt strong and confident, until I realized that I was projecting myself in a way that caused you to break. The immediate self destructive layers left me long ago when I decided I deserved a life. What is so perplexing is that I still had to continue on from where you left off. I choose to control those around me, I guard myself with walls of perceived perfection. I was to be the strongest in the family one that could do anything and support everyone. I wonder, is that was how you felt before you broke? Before you received news that you could no longer handle. I some times wonder if you would not allow anyone to help you, to assist you, to get close to you, for so long that you had no one there to help you up. I know I was not there for you. I only added to you burden. Did you send me away because I reminded you of your own failures? Was I not able to love you through your faults? Was it your job to teach me how to do this? For even today I find myself lashing out at anyone that shows weakness. It is a personal struggle to allow for failure in others. The knowledge that these individuals are not destructive to me but only to themselves has been confirmed. Still it takes effort not to return to my old ways.
Your failure to continue in the life you were given, placed everything that you were to weak to resolve on our shoulders. Including the guilt that resulted from us not saving you. Two beautiful girls were left with a mess of guilt, anger, fear, self doubt, because of your choice. A choice to not live your life, not share your life. Now I attempt to emulate the person I used to respect. I attempt to carry your burden, with my chin high. I remember that poem you loved so much about foot steps, a story of a journey through sand carried by god instead of walking next to him. To me it always seemed so silly the thought of a unearthly soul making foot steps in sand. I no longer feel as though I walk alone, the weight of you is felt, your a burden in every part of my life. I don’t want to ask for help from others, they might see the weak part of you, in me . In writing these word I feel angry at myself for allowing this pain to show threw. How dear I feel anger, I should be over this. My anger for you is ever wavering. At times I feel that I could some day forgive your choices. I find myself thankful for the experiences. Then other days you take up the movement of my days with every undesirable emotion without me realising that you are so precariously perched on my shoulders.
You could have been wheelchair bound but you would have been there when your beautiful grandchild was born. It is possible you might have forgotten if you took you morning medications but you would have been able to tell us when the right man lit up our eyes. You might not have been able to feel our touch but we could have felt you. Without a doubt you could have felt with your heart. How do I put you down?
Manipulation
The ability to manipulate is derived by your ability to see a fault in others. This allows for redirection based on insecurities. And what you are unable to redirect you assume your own correctness. So for that everyone will eventually fail in your eyes.
totem pole
Standing so tall, with the burdens of many. A face so stoic, features so chiseled, feet firmly on the ground that had once created the core of the standing statues. Above you they stand, poised on your shoulders. The expectation that you will hold the burden of there faces. Faces that are carved so extremely with expressions, not of peace or acceptance. Judgment is formed into recognizable creatures that glare into the distance. Still you stand with the burdens of many.
January 25, 2009
A wind blows through an illuminant morning, taking me from my bed. The colors of life seem to shift with every force. Quivers pass through me, forced by some internal panic. The winds so closely followed by an emotional rain. Rain that covers any familiarity. As loneliness sets in the branches heave. The circle of potential reasoning begins its chaotic turns. Seemingly standing alone, only to be tied to many just under the independent crust. Effected by all that share my world. I feel the need to become unwavering for the next wind.
internal twist January 18, 2009
Life is not to be stagnant, as a festering pond of confined growth.
Movement, friction, change are becoming of happiness.
Exchange of air within space, within my space.
Underfoot moving particles of sand, each moving the other.
Not to settle, destined to be washed away with the next wave.
Pieces of a volcanic core being created only to disintegrate into the ocean and return as sand.
Energy of life moves through me busting forth exuberance.
Words to calm me, be still.
Standing still is not concievable as the movement of life is twisting around me.
Change is inevitable, the ingested need to change, to breath, to fall apart, to recreate is obscured just below the surface.
To be still is such a bind.
little world
Awoke this morning with Hawaii doing cartwheels in my belly. The desert landscape out my window was my visual clue, that I was no longer in my tiny world. Phone calls from management with tasks that needed to be completed continue as muffled requests. The moment I pushed the button on the grinder, realization set in. Kona filling the air, hawaii time had changed my way of thinking. There was a snap back into the true moment, cartwheels replaced by longing. Longing for my little world with so many wonders.
candid observations 
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