This is the face.

This is the face of love. Each time my heart is touched by love it is etched in my soul. It creates a path of proof through the smile’s lines of love’s joy and laughter. Then wanders through the brow’s furrow of love’s wonder. It penetrates the pores pouring from love’s pain. Love looks like this.

This is the face of desperation. Pleading for the pain to process and bring peace. Begging for release from the bindings and shackles of shame from continually feeling this way. Bargaining no more, but blinded by defeat. Desperation looks like this.

This is the face of hope. Recognizing that this is a moment of an awareness of raw experience and reality. Lit up briefly by the reflections of the tears sweet brilliance of beaded reckoning. Relinquishing the idea that I have to keep it festered and vested in the cavity my soul reveals as wounded. Hope looks like this.

This is the face of disgust. Putting too much sacred deliverance into a space already self filled. Giving with relentless effort to offer more just to prove worth to the takers who’ve passed on praise. Inflicting a self imposition and acknowledgement of misalignment. Self, not self. Disgust looks like this.

This is the face of bewilderment. Standing in a cleansed body state of muddled mind. Perceptions shifting and breathing brings only moments of mild mannered transitions. In disbelief with feeling of washed over and sharing poses more as imposition, overlooked and taken for granted. Bewilderment looks like this.

This is the face of strength. Grimace and regrouping, bawling and growing. Perseverance begins to permeate after repeated experience. Going in as a dove, coming out scorched dark, now a raven, yet continually still it flies. Rising to the challenge baffling the deliverer of discourse. Strength looks like this.

This is the face of grief. The sudden onset of not understanding that operations continue. Disbelief of lack of attentive heart compassing language and cognition. Wayside, left in wonder. Sad overcame by weight weighed by a judge of less caliber. Cast aside and left alone in the debris of dismantling. Grief looks like this.

Into the new year…

Among all the other shifts, I could feel this one floating about my essence. Taunting, in its own subtle form, only offering enough aloofness to keep my instincts peaking. It could have been that a friend gave the plain prophecy or rather New Years resolution in disguise. He knew I knew., but to know, and breathe the actual thickness of the air where it should be light and brisk… that is the knowledge. also, the knowledge to come.

A few deep personal issues have come to a head the last week and it was expected. I felt ironic that the timing of what I spoke about months ago have taken place in my observation within such the time frame and now I am facing many things full face.

I have seen my face in the reflection in each person I have encountered and applied some form of judgment on. It is simply amazing how much the judgement I don’t actually pass on others gets absorbed by my own interpretation of who I am. I take in all these assumptions and let the direction of opinion be stewarding.

Now after have been going through some life changing moments recently, I observe that there is a new beginning. It’s esoteric but timely and is most assuredly described as cliche

the free resolution turned my faded goal of yesteryear back in toward my interrogation of self and scrutinized the very thing I keep running into. Blame. And in the process of finding happiness in the midst of darkness I keep pulling the cloak further over the progress.

Entering the new year was to represent another day. Another chance to show who I am, despite how I think I am turning into one crazy deluded woman on a mission to understand pain.

Entering the new year was to be a breath of fresh and ready filled air. Oxygenated with aspirations and inspirations.

I did not anticipate having to exit the end of the year watching what I do not have. Nor did I even come close to anticipating that to bring in the new year I’d once again be breathing the heavy air that holds my body down to the seat so that it doesn’t rudder away with the speed of which my heart beats.

But I was thankful for the company that I was blessed with. It leveled my heart just enough so I could see and have the knowledge that now I know, it is time to focus on intentional healing. Even in the pain that lingered from precious and previous days, there was a love holding my understanding or at least holding enough of me so that I felt secure enough to express my dualities of existence in the previously mentioned experiences.

Entering into the new year has provided ample opportunities to utilize the information gathered through last. It is an energy that is a risen vibration, waiting to be tapped into. Human conditions are fighting just as strong to be in charge and I am in the sense of feeling astral.

I can only hope that more of us will continue to heed the purity of instinct, deliverance or receiving the messages. Internal work. Eternal work.

Tints of it all

It’s always been a path that has twisted the second I have put my foot upon what was perceived as stable earth. Especially any time I have made any proclamation of change or declarative to myself. Or anyone else for that matter. There was never really a beginning step, nor do I see the paths direction clearly now.

It has an air of taste but not fully indulge, regardless of the all you can eat buffet. It is the holding back children from the desert bar after eating all their dinner. A reminder to the senses that they are only in control of detecting deliciousness but not given the utensils to fulfill the salivation for hope and fulfillment.

Looking into the mirror has been a ritual in compartmentalism and I think I have become the pastor of preaching projection. The imagery that I am seeing in this reflection is of generic body parts and decorations on the anatomy. it’s not a clear picture, it is a bit foggy. And yet it is clearly seen as a component for an opportunity to critique my whole self, none the matter of the bold attempt to witness through another’s observation.

Moments of beauty linger still and wrap their scent stamp of importance. immersing ideas that memory and present agenda can somehow coexist. Breathing in a breath that was taken years already before and freshly adorned with a sound. This envelopment of calming acceptance has been trying to guide an old soul. The urgency of anew has been heeded. Moving into the fog has been the design all along.

Unexplainable

in the land of coincidence this was the most generous description of happenstance. it wasn’t like it was just a casual encounter or a quick side eyed glance. it came across as poignant decision making lacking any evidence of chance.

a change was noticed and the energy fell weak. the exchange of interest softened below the peak. it became directed elsewhere and the loss was not meek. somehow fainting in persistence week by week.

an energy brewing and thickening each day creating suffocation. a knowledge among the stars shining down inappropriate provocation. and an air about it ruminating vanity, causing a personal indignation.

Tangible in the smell of something not quite right in the senses. Any attempt of clarification builds up an unnecessary display of defenses, only confirming the initial questioning of advances.

It’s a cosmic awareness of conversations employed. Communications offering disdain to the committed love joy. This Layering of perspective creating new versions of allowing a secretive ploy.

Encouragement of union and unity is on a wavering foundation. Opportunity presented daily for egoist masturbation gives a slide of hand to genuine and pure intention. castrating genuine and symbiotic connection and affection.

Gripping onto a slippery slope of ideas and projecting. Never ending the questioning with a confirmation or upfront viewing. Only hiding. Only silently replying. Only giving all into something that is mystifying.

lonely pain. thanks grief.

 

i picked up a book last that was given to me shortly after Archaea passed. i was accepting of the gesture then but knew i would never read it. it was a christian author. it has been sitting next to my bed for over a year and then recently moved to a pile of other books that i put on the ground by my side table in my room. i read the foreword. i read a few sentences of the first part of the intro. something has changed within me.

i wasnt changed because i decided to give this book an opportunity and it changed my life. no, the change has been taking place this whole time. since the day she died. but it was the fact that i was willing to even open this book is what the indicator of change was. the idea that i had enough grace in my world to offer space for God.

hahaha…. me, human… offering space, holding space, for God. what a riot. but that, is exactly what i am doing, in a very human form. i have cleared out a place from where my anger has been bunkering in my soul and allowed a gap for lighter living to take up its residence instead.

this has been so difficult.

this morning i made a cup of tea and sat in Archaea’s corner. i brought the book with me to the rocking chair. this rocking chair that i was supposed to be rocking my beautiful baby daughter in, singing to her sweetly while she nurses to slumber. the rocking chair that i was supposed to rock with Solly on one knee and Archaea on the other to read story time and ogle the silly pictures and make silly sounds together. the rocking chair that has been in my family for generations and is a solid piece of framework to the home of which we live in.

back to reading the book. so i opened the book to pursue reading and the first few paragraphs hit me like a ton of bricks. it hasn’t told the story yet, but i have gathered that he too, has lost a child and in that present moment of the story, he was deep in the throes of double life and grief. my world.

he spoke of the reality that he was walking in there, into this public location filled with people, but alone in his pain. his pain. i read the rest of the chapter, but it was that takeaway that is poignantly haunting me. alone in HIS pain, while others are potentially sitting alone, in their pain, among the people. its absurd. all this pain. rubbing up on each others symptoms and diagnosis in the world of loss and grief.

it reminds me of the scene in ferngully where crysta puts her hand on the tree that was marked by zaks human affection and says, “can’t you feel its pain?” here is this tall beautiful ginormous and protecting tree surrounded by all the other trees and fauna and flora of the forest, yet still standing alone in this pain. and the irony here is that the human condition once again has afflicted something with pain. this amazing and overarching monument of the earth is surrounded by others of the like… a little similar looking on the outside. feeling their own twists of fury and fate in their design and growth, and appearing to stand alone. underneath it all though are those roots deep in the ground that are reaching outwardly toward freedom and also toward one another.

we all are experiencing or have experienced or will, a sense of  loss, and grief and pain will inevitably become a process of the this humans living experience. not all stay there, and not all grief is felt on the same levels.

my grief is unknown.

i begin to realize that i, indeed, have not yet finished grieving. not that i ever will but this morning when i woke i was overcome with this sadness and i again felt so alone, and so so sad, and so so alone. and when sitting in Archaea’s corner reading this mans words of his pain, the one that i am regarding in the same category as mine, my heart broke a little more. he was or is not alone in his pain, i am there too. but i realized that there is no way that anyone can really understand that, unless you have been there. even then…can you really?

i felt a sadness. it was a sudden dense sadness that said i will always be alone in this. the ones that mostly get it have had their own membership to this unwanted club for a while. but that is not a comforting thought. another uncomfortable thought is that no one will ever be able to fully love me if they are not able to reach into my grief and sadness with me and hold my hand and heart so i can at least “feel” physical comfort, which is massive to my emotional process. i see that i need to be reached out to, sometimes prodded, sometimes offered space, about my grief.

i often feel like a burden. no one wants to hear about grief. no one wants to hear about pain. we all have it. we all have it one way or another. the reality is though, that i need to talk about it. and not to just anyone. that is what my blog is for. but to people who love me and care about me. to help me better understand where i am. to accept where i am and acknowledge the pain i am in. it can’t be gazed over briefly, creating a paraphrase and a summary of my state. sit in the space of sadness with me. i don’t need cheering up. i am a funny and witty person who finds humor in the darkest of hours. i dont need a smile. i have one that will beam brighter in my pain to light a path for those who need a light for themselves in their pain.

i need to be loved deeply during these times.

and that is a lot to ask of someone. so i don’t. rather i withdraw. into silence. into loneliness. and i try to do it alone.

or maybe i wont anymore. again i feel alone in this whole process. which again, i don’t understand. i am an open book. i feel like i am able to invite, welcome and sit with the darkest and the brightest and always offer that a love that i yearn to feel. it is an acceptance that this darkness is part of me. this darkness is why i shine so bright. but it is very difficult to shine sometimes. i feel like a lighthouse on a far distant shore shrouded in the thickest fog, that spins its light around and around hoping that there is a ship in the harbor still seeking the light. patiently waiting for the next rotation of discovery and bliss to come its way. because it will, if only it is willing to sit in the space of the void in the darkest of moments, and honor it.

 

gratitude

i woke up hungry with gratitude, i wasnt sure where the serving had come from but i knew it needed to be part of my new food group. i want to cut it down piece by piece and observe it. and savor it. and make it digest and become part of my everyday mood.

i want my attitude to reflect that of my gratefulness. i want it to show that even though i have been put down again and again i will rise up above this mess. like i always do when considering you. when considering it all really, ive been through.

a fall from so high that you shouldnt probably survive. but i did. i ve fallen more times than i care to count like literally, when i was a kid i fell from 30ft, 3 stories high.. and i fell down on to my back and it may have been something i should have died from, but i didnt. it was all ok. a scratch and a bruise and after  a hospital trip, i walked away.

it just goes to show that each and everyday there must be some kind of angel circling around me, guiding my steps and saying it is ok to fly. but sometimes i dive in too far too fast. and all that gratitude and gratefulness takes backseat, doesnt get the vip pass, and it wanders around kicking its little feet dragging behind me behind my ungrateful ass.

and every once in a while i will look back over my shoulder and remeber what it was i was grateful for and i’ll take a smile. and that gratitude comes back again. even though it was stuffed so far down within and so far down deep because the energy it takes to muster up that thankfulnes from the atrocities of your  life’s tragedies, you forget about bliss.

youre dark youre desolate and your life is in danger. and you give up a little bit. but you reach out a little bit. and then here comes some love in the form of a stranger. who reaches out a hand of hope, compassion and understanding , but not understanding why just knowing they think that you might be worthwhile in this life and they want to hold you close so that you can see it too ya you know where they say they hold you  so tight its like glue? putting you back, pieces together its true. sister it’s true, brother let me tell you

i can weather it no matter the storm now ive seen it all ive been through the worst. but this love that has come up through me makes me feel like im first. makes me feel like im in charge , like im the one who belongs like im the one who is strong. like i am the one who can keep going on and i do and i look at all the faces of you and i think you have been there for me and i will be there for you and you and you and you have kept me going and your love encapsulates me and keeps that little light of hope glowing

and i am thankful again i am grateful again i am hopeful within and that is because of you and your love and the attitude will become my daily food. and I will eat and I will consume and nourish back to you, love

my name

the thing is that i don’t really know, ya know? i just kinda sit back and let it all flow, let it all roll, down my thick slick skin like a hippo in its oil, chilling out, not worrying about the recoil from any thing that was said or even implied. i lied.

at least that is not what my heart says to do. it says to turn around and say, fuck you. it says turn around and end this abuse. the misuse of my heart is so easily acceptable by myself when myself is feeling a little mentally untrustable. is it un or is it able?

waning i make my way to a table of cards that you dealt i pull up a chair. it’s fragile and broken, in need of repair. and it is so easy to observe, relentless, absurd how much the seat of which i sit reflects now for me to see what i always have heard.

fuck you.

alright i wont say it again, but sometimes these words are the only ones that can begin to describe the amount of energy it takes to contain all the chaos and darkness that consumes this supposed brain, when i have to refrain from explaining to you the actual you.

you say what you need to, say what you must… but the persistence and insulting insistence makes me inwardly combust. it’s all unjust, emotional dusting and spiritual stifling, remaining too long, but now i am strong,

and strength is my name, literally, everyday of my life i have been fighting for something figuratively, but also fighting for life every day positively and truly, seeking out the higher truths which have led me back to a bit of my characteristic youth.

and has led me back to explain something deeply about me to you. it’s not all about what you did to me or what i didn’t do, its not about the twisted result how with myself i am repulsed when i should have been upheld., held up,

hold up, no no no,

it’s about how i let me slip away how i fell into the silence game, how i gave away the meaning of my name, and redefined over time. reimplied whom it is i was supposed to be, yet here i am rediscovering that me is a she who is fine and able. she is learning to cast shadows to those uns and shine light on the ables…

fuck yes. i am stable.

i am labeling a path, “now mine to take.” and im sorry for the pain youve endured on behalf of my mistakes. it wasnt me. or i know some was, but im getting the impression that i am better than i was, but now with a voice. and a desire to voice it, tell my truth, whatever that is. no matter the consequences.

and i realize that not all energies, with mine, will form alliances… i realize that it doesn’t change the fate of my future intolerances. oh the dancing of chances and the passing of glances….

i am now learning i was good but i was quiet and withdrawn, those are for reasons that could take days to go on, wanted to speak, but i never did. like i was a kid whose voice was heard but not really.

so, really, now, i am hoping that i will, now i can, i am trying, no longer trying to cling to a life where it is all about self silencing, that self sabotaging route needs to step out of the way, because im here, to reclaim this day,

for me, strength is to remember my name