Month: December 2022

I do not want to waste any more time traveling down paths I have already known.

It is interesting how we are expected to proceed forward in life without our internal parts aligned.

For example, the struggle to bring in enough income on a daily basis while paying exhorbitant fees for a roof over one’s head at a hotel tends to push one past sustainable energy expenditure limits on a daily basis, which can lead to burnout.

There is no time or space allowed for unwinding or pursuing the higher arts of art, music, language – or even socializing.

All is focused on the “here and now” while striving to ensure the continuance of tomorrow.

Therefore, once one is allowed to return to what society would refer to as “normalcy” (the basics, such as having a home to one’s self, again), one has to take stock of where they have been internally, what kind of repair needs to be enacted, and what one’s life goals should become now focused upon.

I dislike looking at myself while perceiving such a “ramshackle mess.”

But I know that I have made the best efforts to keep our family safe and healthy, and it is to be expected that inside – where we all hide our insecurities – I feel somehow less than worthy.

She struggled to gain some kind of handhold on their connection for grappling to break free of it.

If they couldn’t be together – if he truly would not be hers – then she did not want the angst that pounded.

Searching for the source in external representation and meeting resistance for others’ various reasons, although she felt alone and was longing for connection, she turned inward again to cultivate her magic.

Only now, there is a one-inch gap under doors through which yowlings and brain-melting high-pitched whinings echo loudly down sound-reflective, smooth-floored halls.

We are afforded an expansive view and space between us which draws us closer.

I must be my own authority.

She was tied in knots over having been sent to seek him out – only to have it result as apparently “a fool’s errand” while rubbing her nose into it!

My life has been a stream of moments passing by – quicker than I could grab and hold onto them – as I have continued climbing upward.

What would happen if I were to say that “here” is “good enough?”

What if I just stepped off, nestled in, and “took in the land” awhile?

It could be better than continuously reaching out and encountering denial’s frustration.

Hand-selected and framed in memories.

Letting go of the Bachelor’s dream, she finished the courses in teaching for her own enjoyment and dove into learning about filmmaking.

She took a year to complete four unit modules in Teaching English To Foreign Learners while revisiting learning piano, 6-string bass, drawing, and theatre. The next year, she hammered out the two remaing four unit courses to at last obtain her Bachelors.

Advocative, affectionate, playful, innovative, appreciative – cherished and wanted.

I may have positively influenced a great many people, but as our tracks do not often realign, it has been a “pay it forward” paradigm.

Sitting diagonally-skewed, propped by several plump pillows and swaddled by layers of soft, beautiful blankets which include electric heating.

Laboring under pain for an extended amount of time erodes self confidence and torments self perceptions.

She wanted to purge all negative emotions still attached to and affecting her.

But, something was missing in her self identifying that these feelings clung to.

How could something cling to something that is missing?

They filled the space of absence, providing false comfort – as if who she was was there.

My Love,

Why do sparks fly between us?

Are they embers flaring from old arguments?

Have we both set our feet so firmly that nothing will reconcile us?

So many years ago – but to our kind, as recent memory.

How can we break these patterns and reunite our passions?

Deliberate acquiesance to forces beyond one’s control, until acquiring better positioning.

There have been trends in societal ageism, but this does not mean that it is appropriate to condemn a woman of fifty years to an expected death sentence – and to consign her to a march of searching for its proof, demanding that she give up hopes of her previous “youth!”

Beckoning forward, blanketing all with snow or clearing to fierce blue skies, daring to prise open eyes that for too long have been sleeping.

It is a similar layout to the unit on –teenth street, but bigger and more warmly inviting.

However, we are no longer bound to alcoholic neighbors just four feet across – nor to a landlord on the property just a door further down with chemical addictions.

There are no police officers or social services representatives for fostering or curbing rebellions.

All is quiet here, which makes my instinct war between believing peace is possible – or that danger and loss are always inevitable.

Neighbors no longer attached, she howls to the moon, searching for her soul.

It is not the same as the choice to make a change, no matter how you sugarcoat it.

What is my part to play in all of this?