Monday, April 25, 2016
My words expose me, to my very core, my soul on display for everyone to read.
I rely on the support and guidance of strangers to encourage me to proceed.
I do have a safety net...
It allows me to tell a story in fragmented pieces.
And with each fragmented piece I carefully recraft and rejoin a 'Once Upon A Time' tale.
With my words I create an infinite, ever-growing world of colorful chaos, perfect, reflective symmetry.
I take in the world, and what it offers me, line by line, one brilliant word at a
time, ravenous, starving for all its myriad of vibrant ever-changing color.
The variety of shapes and interesting designs it creates, devoured, absorbed, and reflected,
creating vivid patterns within and around me,
as well as welcomed, spontaneous bursts of hearty conversations,
the wisdom of connection filling my entire being.
A kaleidoscope of colored thoughts,
where once there was no color.
Friday, April 22, 2016
Last week I spent time packing up boxes and moving things around the house. In the process, I started pulling things out of places where I had stashed them for safe keeping, forgetting that I even had these treasured items. While I was in this Spring cleaning frenzy, I opened a closet, no different from an attic or shed, and found an old forgotten box. When I finally managed to open it, a little disaster punched me right in my face, figuratively of course, but it got me thinking.
It's like opening any forgotten relic that's been left buried under layers of earth, gathering dirt and rusting itself shut. At first it's hard to breath through the swirl of dust, and you always have that gritty on your skin feeling, and you wonder if you should even attempt to open the box, but you know you want to because you put something in there that was of value to you. You know in your heart that that object was important enough to hold on to otherwise you would have thrown it out or given it to someone else a long time ago. So you open the box, and you become enchanted with what is inside. You find old relics, memories from the past that you've hidden away. They charm you with their nostalgic recollections, and you realize the significance each piece represents in the history of your life.
It’s interesting how simple hiding places: like closets, trinket boxes, or even a suitcase, open and close with a simple turn of a knob or flip of a latch, and can hold valuable secrets and memories. When we hide things in these little forgotten spaces, depending on the secrets we are hiding, they have the power to change our lives permanently. If what is being hidden is destructive, it's kind of like opening Pandora's Box, all the negative comes out and everything good gets closed inside.
When a person hides the truth away, those who seek informed answers to the questions they have, can't see the entire picture because there are pieces missing from the puzzle. What the person is looking at is a mystery. It's like watching the previews for the news and then turning the television off before you get to the meat of it, or skimming the headlines in a newspaper without actually reading the articles; because you are uninformed rumors and lies taint the mixture.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Now I lay me down to sleep… Is it too much to ask for an evening of peace?
It's the time of night I wish for peaceful slumber, but there has been so many changes for me lately. Now peaceful dreams and the wonderful images they bring, clash with the incessant chatter in my head.
There are too many words of worry wreaking havoc in my brain, images that incite fear, constantly haunt my thoughts. What was that? What happened? What could have happened? What are these noises I hear? How many questions beg to be answered? Why won't they leave me alone?
I toss and turn, alone in a spacious bed, with the exception of the two cats that sleep curled up close by. I beg for the silence that night promises to bring. I plead in my constant state of fatigue, for my thoughts to quiet, to settle long enough that I fall into the deep restful realm of dreams.
I desire for sleep, because sleep is an escape into worlds my mind is creating, away from the shackles of everyday life. It's a pleasant escape from reality, that is until the nightmares bully their way past my defenses. As long as my mind is still, and clear, the monsters won't attack me.
Life moves, people grow, everything changes, and I worry about the changes that surround me. Things I have never faced before are now solely mine to deal with, the burden is mine. Life is evolving, and some changes are good and necessary, but still I can’t seem to find a way to silence my mind so that I can escape into a restful state.
Sunday, April 10, 2016
Compassion is one of those ties that binds people together. Compassion is merging yourself into another person's circumstance, molding yourself in a way that you instinctively understand what the other person needs of you and it allows you to acknowledge and respond to those needs in an appropriate manner.
Compassion recognizes the universal cry of our human longings, our aspirations, and even the tragedies we face. Compassion has no expectation of reward or recognition. Compassion is not merely the sympathy you show toward another person. When our actions are an automatic reaction that causes us to reach out and help another human being, friend or stranger, with no motivation, outside of the fact that that person is in need of our help, or may be in a life threatening situation where there is imminent danger, our compassion, at that point, is in action.
Compassion is about putting yourself in another person's shoes, imagining their pain, trying to feel and grasp it. It is about sympathizing with their anxiety and their fears. It's getting down to the source of their pain and comprehending it, validating the emotions they are feeling. It's asking yourself 'how would I want to be treated if I was the other person, dealing with their unique situation?'
A compassionate person is somebody who recognizes the needs of another and they try to do their best to care for that person and make sure those needs are met.
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Springtime is here and the temperatures feel wonderful!
We have experienced plenty of beautiful sunshine filled days in the past couple of weeks.
The flowers on my cherry tree have bloomed, my little roadrunner is back, the bunny population is booming, and I have even seen a few coyotes hanging around the area. Wildlife has come out of hibernation, and can be seen roaming freely around the area.
But wait! We have also experienced quite a bit of wind. With the wind comes pollen being spread across the city, and for people who suffer from allergies, that pollen makes the Spring season miserable for people like me.
As I look out the window I see random plants moving with the wind.
Allergies! That is the reason I dislike the Spring.
Flowers blooming, grass coming in green, tress growing fresh leaves; it's a serene sight to behold. It's all so lovely, but it also makes me miserable.
Who can argue with the beauty of a flower? Only a person who suffers because of the pollens that flower produces and the winds that insist on scattering that pollen around the area.
It is April. It is not a surprise that everything is in full bloom. And regardless of how much I suffer being among that which triggers my allergies, I still enjoy being outdoors, among new life as it is blossoming. This is Springtime. It's expected.
But it does physically make me miserable. I get sinus pressure headaches. I itch. I break out in hives. I live on allergy medication during the season. For me, Springtime is a take the bad with the good season. I don't hate the Spring, but I do hate the suffering it brings me.
I love the warmth of Spring. I like the sundresses and shorts I can wear. I like that the temperatures are perfect for running outdoors, not too hot and not too cold. I like that I don't have to wear layers. If not for the allergies, this season would be perfect.