Semi-Daily Scribbles

Vergissmeinnicht

Slivers of ancient pillars that break the cloud's back are embedded in my sweater. Scratches on my hands bloom into forget-me-nots. Have I been walking unawares again under the midnight canopy? No one can see me. Not like this.

Small Disturbances

Darkness has fallen over a small town, and only the barn owl out for a moonlight snack can view the 360° from its perch in a Doug fir. With a half revolution of its snowy head, that old hooter sees a boy hunch his shoulders; sees a boy crouch. The boy stands up straight, then bends at the waist, twists his torso, stomps his feet. A boy holds a big stick with both fists and brings it down hard toward the ground. The forest floor writhes as the quiet night screams a name over and over and over again.

Let's Do This!

Restrictions are of our own design. Build a firm foundation. Everything else is faerie dust. Glimmer & Shimmer & Flicker & Flow. The only way to reach the clouds is to allow unhealthy structures to crumble. Victory is upheaval. Show me the prize hidden under the rubble. Patience & Prudence. What new projects need to be started? Aren't we all just a conglomeration of half-drawn, hastily sketched plans? Obstacles build muscles and nothing soothes a restless mess like redress. You do have the capacity to be innocent. Lifestyles are filled with half-truths and wiles. What has been lost is found when one calibrates her vibration. Where did curiosity go? Did you replace it with a need to know what cannot be shown? If that frequency doesn't make your heart beat, no amount of stimulation will revive what you've left for others to do. They will not make the same mistakes as you. No one learns if everyone wins. Gloating is lonesome work. I can offer understanding but I don't need to jump on the first carousel that comes 'round. I am always looking for something you don't see. It's up there. Do I need to point it out? Let's unpack the sentence: "Learning is unimportant." No one would say that in the world I live in. I have to allow others to proceed on their journey. I can simply tell myself: "That's not your path. That's not your story." No villains. No saints. Only people. I may joke that the perfect world would be populated by my clones, but what a dreadful bore that would be. Patience with myself and others is what's needed during these winter months. Confusion reigns supreme, and it will for a while. The ol' temper has not been tamped down. There has been one baby step taken. No one is ready to run. The team has been trimmed yet again. Our failure was the mismanagement of chaos. We allowed that vital energy to consume rather than nourish us. Make good on your word and the feeling of defeat will subside. And when my boss said "keep your phone on" as I finished my shift on Wednesday, I knew I would not be receiving his call on Thursday. Trying times indeed, and it's cold out. Patience is a life-long practice. When the storm is raging, some folks make for shore and others take their chances upon waves that shake the ocean floor. Just try to show me out the door and I'll put on a demonstration of the wind reducing this world to qubits. How can I help? Just focus on your goals. An answer given before the querent knew her hand was raised. Work those pedals faster, padre. This cycle's seen better days.

The Hidden Part

What is it you need to show to the world? What's the one thing you want me to know about you? How can you tell your story without it being a masterfully manipulated collection of photographs on Insty-Sham?

Here's what Phyllida wants us to know about her:

I am the Crone. I am your Forever Home. Come rest in my arms so evergreen. I am soon to be riding the #9 and so close to being whole. I feel young/old/accomplished/benighted ... happy to have sensations at all. I am grateful for my cave; my hideout from the world as I've undergone this painful transformation. I don't look any different. The wrapper is no worse for wear. But the little spark of wonder that has always caused me pain is now a rampaging flame of wisdom. Can't unknow what you know. Or, in other words, this light ain't goin' out any time soon, bebe ko.

The State of Becoming

O.k., Masters-in-Training: If the last 10 years have been easy for you, you must have done The Work over prior lifetimes. If yes/no: Has something happened to you in the past 30 to 45 days that slapped ya upside the head (didn't see it comin', didn't see it comin') and left ya lying in a goo pit of conflicting emotions? We are all presently tasked with looking at ourselves through the eyes of others. How well do those narratives criss and cross? Are you ready for a different version of your life to be projected against that big, blank canvass you are staring at? Make sure you've got a red pen handy.

The Tomb

You told me you live in your own world.

"Don't place too much trust in me."

You forgot what we talked about a month ago. Our conversation was important. It had to do with self-awareness and the color I'd recently painted the walls of my study.

"Forgetfulness means I never think of you when we're away from this place."

I knocked on your door and whispered goodbye. You looked up with tear-filled eyes; your left hand raised as a warning to not cross a line. I didn't bother to smile or hold your gaze or say another word. I turned around and headed down the hall. That was the longest walk to my car I ever had.

 

To Our Undoing

The flip side of pain is love, and what is love but a vehicle to keep us from dying a new death every day? Love is also a gateway to disappointment and heartbreak and insecurity. One cannot have a well-lived existence without the sweet agony of wallowing in The Big Three -- d / h / i -- at various junctures along Life's Rocky Road. It's better than flying solo, right? The fear of being alone makes for tenuous bedfellows.

Achievements and Mistakes

The world was carved by the right hand of the pagliacci. Reality is as entertaining as one's daydreams, and as tangible as the gash you stanch with little chance of it becoming a scar. We all weep at the sight of a well-rehearsed faux pas. Perseverance is the best way to force an outcome, and no one can annihilate an expectation better than Buddie Lewis. How sharp she keeps her charms; silver burnished to draw down the moon.

You Are Knot Trying Hard Enough

You're better off finding a trusted civilian who'll listen to your (what usually are very amusing) existential crises, and maintaining a lifestyle where your body and mind are allowed to perform at peak proficiency. Sorry, I hope that didn't come out sounding all preachily privileged because, you know: You are perfect just the way you are! And get yourself a hobby. Animals are good to have around, too. But please don't pay hard-earned cash money to be told to eat a salad once in a while. Mom told you to eat your vegetables, probably many times, and for free even.

Underneath the Niceness

Time is fluid, and what I said yesterday is a betrayal sneaking up on you in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... The downfall has happened. It goes back to my desire for seeing you leave before the month is out. I have enough strength for the both of us, and therein lies our demise. I am "conscious" of my "knowing" you are lost without your lies. [Watch out when you run into writers. You'll be reading your story soon, and it's one you didn't write.] The Meaning of Life is just to show up. "Showing up is half the battle." People say that, don't they? You told me once, "I don't." You serve others only to short-change yourself. Don't be a martyr to a dream that never was. 15 years and One Hundred Ghosts incubated all your false hopes. Corruption of the body; fertilizer for the mind. [You once said to me: "Hope you get back on your feet." Hope you stay on yours.] Memories are missed opportunities waiting to happen. [The only long-term relationship we ever truly have is with ourselves.]