Category: Stream of Thought

I weep for the waste of my efforts and energy.

I weep as there seems nothing left of me.

Sinking into the abyss of internal focus regardless of discomfort within this tired shell of a body, I wonder if the body-mind is truly more about psychology rather than physiology.

And I marvel that for all of these years I have been brightly optimistic no matter the dire circumstances encountered or thrown at me.

As I settle back into what sense of self I have currently and take stock of the damage to my confidence’s integrity, how did I manage to believe there is someone out there that can match me?

I have fought back lies, deceit, betrayal, and compromise in order the keep the light brighter inside than the suffocating encroachment of darkness.

But what am I left with in my core now that I have consumed will’s once seeming limitless energy?

I have just the shadows as company – and myself, worn as the wind sawing through limbs of old, bestraggled trees.

If I become as the crone and let the dark take me, perhaps she will pass through me and leave.

If I forget all that I have been, will I find myself reborn with the spring?

It is wonderful to be in this small town and get connected with other creative artists and healers. Being able to more equally share the load now in my family vs. how most everything had been up to me previously takes getting used to – but I like and appreciate getting to redefine my priorities.

A flavor can be good, yet the texture is mooky.

I keep calling a song title as “The Hills Have A Thousand Eyes,” mixing the actual song title “The Night Has A Thousand Eyes” with the titled oldie cannibal movie The Hills Have Eyes. Somehow, the two became associated…

I remember asking for my sight to be dimmed so that I would not see so clearly through to the heart of things to my own chagrin. But now, I want my sight back again.

He could only love someone who did not threaten him.

If a woman was self empowered – even if she deferred to him, he still felt insecure.

It was hard to grow in such a relationship: having to watch every step for a mistake; never able to do something “right” that made him happy.

The most she could do to please him was to diminish herself.

And in the end, this just gave him reason to disrespect her further.

How does a more mature woman think it could now be possible – nay, probable that she could find a better partnerahip after such misuse and waste of her time by another?

Looking around, the closest candidates were already taken.

But, even they did not contain that spark of romantic interactive intelligence she craved.

Due to human corruption, greed, deception, etc., it is up to humans to overcome these aspects and create good in the world to counteract and help our species and the world rise above.

I dislike that being on the moutain for three years had such a wrecking impact on me physically and psychologically. My power was taken from me, and any effort to succeed required overexpenditures.

It is interesting at times for me to experience being in these various positions.

Sometimes I feel elated, and at other times, it feels tragic.

I know how I began; how I evolved; how I strove; how I overcame.

And it just seems like I ought to have achieved more advancement.

However, expenditure of energy tallies.

Means I am mortal –
That I can feel weak.

I hate feeling drained:
How do I restore gain?

“You may be capable of superhuman feats, but you are still human, and that’s okay.”

Maybe he is the treasure.

Allowing one’s self to perceive that which is not normally obvious.

“It has nothing at all to do with me. I guess that’s what’s depressing.”

I am simple, yet more complex than what I see around me.

In the shadows between dark and light is where you’ll find me.

Of course he would choose to do what he was doing. His life was conscripted to a certain course if he wished to retain power and popularity.

In her mind, she would think of him, and her heart yearned for the touch of his hand, the timbre of his voice, the warmth in his smile – and even the concern in his occasional frown.

Sometimes, she would see him pass by quickly on a latest errand, or catch a glimpse of him across the street with his girlfriend.

She was trying to understand herself by understanding him. She felt unmistakenly connected – as if somehow they were kin.

Societal ageism and time’s maturing of her skin tried to pressure her into sequestering her remaining years. But, she was still young inside and struggling to find a way toward recovery.

The herb is supposed to be cooling, but I have avoided drinking it because I have had experience in more recent years that the peppermint used in candies will coat and burn longterm in my digestive system.

However, yesterday’s health fair exploration took us to a booth of soaps, scrubs, and teas. As I turned away commenting mildly to my youngling that I could not focus my eyes to read due to a pressure headache, the proprietor leapt up to assist me.

She briskly grasped a bag of fresh peppermint tea with hibiscus flowers mixed into it, opened it, and presented the aromatic haven for me to breath in deeply. My sinuses immediately began opening as if letting in a fresh breeze and my brain fog began clearing from psycbological releif.

I had not considered that mixing the two herbs could be a perfect compliment of tart, purgative flowers soothing the mint uplifting pervascence. And, the wonderful smell and the woman’s gesture made me feel happy – so of course we bought the bag and some of her boothmate’s homemaid marionberry jelly!

I tossed the small and yet equally-proportioned, weighty cardboard box firm-gently toward the pile of other things in the garage to be sorted.

This arced from a distance of about ten feet away going a few mph, slightly elevated by the two steps above at the kitchen door.

The spinning box met at speed with the side of an object which blocked and bounced it backward, angling down into a larger box open on its side that rested within a fabric wagon.

The two joined as one as the larger box corraled the smaller, nesting it with precisioned finality as if I had gone over there and intentionally positioned.

That was hard.

That was disouraging.

That was painful.

That was confusing.

This is challenging.

Out of context and in passing – that disregard we can give to a loved one and/or partner/spouse.

It sounded like that expectation that someone will understand where we are coming from, so we think that our biting tone remarks should no longer offend anyone.

There is an overfamiliarity that develops over time where one partner decides to just accept it – and the other proceeds forward, rendered blind.

The harmonic chord that when we cherish each other brings forth union is what I crave to uphold.

I do not want to ever fall into any patterns of communication that make another person feel less than human.

Some of my best life experiences have been with my children: helping them grow – even when they or I made mistakes – because together, we were able to be free, find joy, and be innocent.

Bourne

It is easy to accidentally become an object.

We went to a healing fair today and the card I drew was the eight of cups. Yeah…I thought that once I reached a new plateau that I would rest and enjoy awhile. But, it turns out I am going on another internal journey. What “normalcy?”

As I have county traveled and managed my own businesses, my work has taken me into diverse homes where singles, couples, and families live out their lives in ways very different from me.

I treated him well because he deserved it, I am a caring person, and because I wanted him for myself.

Understanding that the impact my presence may have needs to be guided to ensure it is postive.

He was afraid she would not respect him due to their age difference – but she shared the same concern.

There can be a sense of this – but more with the chin up and posture straight from having to manage that which others would disdain and turn their noses up to.

Words’ meanings change over time according to applications.

For example, I have always been a high achiever – but when battling constant poverty, high achieving can become outmaneuvering factors to keep us from sliding back into homelessness.

When one has limited resources, innovation gets conscripted toward maintaining base reality as toil’s erosion keeps wearing away from under one’s feet.

I thought that I would try it out – seems to help!

That which does not serve me must be removed from my foundation.

I sometimes make them now in areas where before I may have avoided them.

I don’t like this part of becoming more human – but I guess a new schedule and life can at first be overwhelming.

He read her thoughts, was inspired, and took those ideas – lavishing the attention on his partner.

He thought that the writer might feel flattered – but she wasn’t.

What woman wants the fulfillment of her desires given instead to another?

In the dream, her hound had crawled onto her bed and was snuggly-happy, reverent to be there.

The woman could not help but respond with delight – kissing her pup on the face with playfully abnoxious repetition whlie wrestle-hugging her closer.

The driver noted how his passenger’s return was very different from when she first set out on her journey.

On way to the airport to return to Egypt, she had been animated, anxious but hopeful, and chatty.

On the way back, she kept passing out during conversation late at night while mumbling incoherent, garbled responses to his humor.

She was struggling with the heavy weight of depression from what had just happened, and the pressure of her now stalted monitones eluded his tympanic membrane.

While some well-placed, socialite woman would have just donated her whole wardrobe to charity and revamped her sense of identity, the travelor just returned to the sense of desperation waiting for her on the mountainside.

Free Will is merely an abstract construct once the heart is conscripted into the service of another where there is no hope for reciprocation.

If I find the right word to name it, perhaps the spell will release. For I cannot live another life without also obtaining my ease.

To break any cycle, I must no longer play the game.

It seems that I must keep myself amused and take solace in these brief moments of levity.

It has seemed that the goal one should have when feeling alone is to somehow break the cycle by expanding out from one’s isolation and becoming a part of the greater collective.

However, finding that I can not do that to anywhere near prior capacity, the alternative given to me is to learn to not give a f***.

I must break free of attachments which do not reciprocate my fealty to them.

I wonder at times if I understand and accept in people’s variability more than I ought to.