Month: October 2023

Stream of Thought

“Foolish” Hearts

Candid Corvid Productions

When they love, they love openly and without reserve the object of their affection and desires.

All naysayers are ousted from influence. Even their own warning signals are swaddled into a cocoon of happiness to silence them.

What matters then is the journey, as awakening dreams flood, unfolding the promise of a heavenly destination.

And if the line becomes broken between a heart in love and its beloved intended, that heart finds itself suddenly cast out of paradise – thrust back into the laws of gravity as its world comes crashing back down to impact with earth’s “realities.”

Society

Up, And Then Down

Candid Corvid Productions

I saw a young woman leaving a food bank and could tell that she was of The Faith and likely someone safe for me to help by giving transport.

After she accepted, I drove us briefly to my home where I could give her my favored foldable and smooth-moving garden cart because I had recognized that stalwart determination in her body language to carry a heavy burden that wears and frustrates the soul from toil that I have often mustered up to.

I thought to myself, “Not today, that effort is no longer necessary.”

She was surprised and seemed pleased, and we spoke about her country and perhaps teaching each other our languages.

Then, after I left her, there was a young, bedraggled person walking on the street, looking exhausted, carrying personal belongings, and dragging her sleeping bag while looking confused and despondent.

But I had already given away my cart, and what this youngling needed would be way more complicated.

My heart dropped for lack of feeling the ability to also extend to him/her – a youngling of my own country.

For if I did, it would become a way different level than I can carry or tend to currently.

It doesn’t feel right…what is my role in these workings?

Extending a brief, compartmentalized hand vs. taking on responsibility for another person’s survival.

Still, I went back to check on them, but they were gone.

They might have been heading toward a nearby shelter.

Stream of Thought, The Accident - As Of 10/10/25 Early AM Named "Clyde" (Short For Collide) Because It's Funny And I Deserve Mirth At Its Expense

Beyond Set Back

Candid Corvid Productions

Before the car accident, I had begun feeling at last that someday I might be able to run again.

I had relished the idea of being able to ride my bicycle.

I had flourished in the warm heat of summer’s baking into my bones again.

Now, my joint connections quiver.

My steps are unsteady and hips insecure.

The nerves in my hands flare and muscles begin overtightening if I use them beyond minimal.

I am minus back-to-the-beginning.

In fact, I am so far back as to be set into a state of coordination’s confusion.

Movement pings my consciousness into sensations not reassuring – and if I am not careful, I can tip too easily into panic’s desperation from fear of stumbling and falling.

I drop things more often, as my outer finger grippers are nerve-pathway overstimming.

And this is being allowed to still “reach for” rejoining disrupted synaptic connections, whereas other people have been barred.

Possibly forever.

That’s where the panic comes in – and the desperation when I’m thinking I must push harder.

It is frightening to feel my body and mind short-circuiting.

I can feel the maw’s edge closer than most of us would normally ever perceive – again – and it is terrifying.

It is more convincing now that I should just submit to it and give up.

It is Demanding.

Maybe I need more rest.

Give me back that buffer – that place that for a moment, I believe that I am still capable of achieving nearly anything.