01110001

Stick to your guns,
the ones aimed at your head;
Dig your heels
until you're dead.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

scared to tell the truth
because that makes my problems real.
it means admitting i’m not perfect,
admitting i don’t have it all under control.

want to whisper into the ear
of a sympathetic field of wildflowers.
wide expanse of space and breeze
blowing my words and worries away.

write it down on parchment
and sail it away in a bottle at sea.
dreaming in another language, climate, culture...
but will it really make things better?

carry these quirks and crucifixes in my atoms,
only alchemy can transform my weary bones.
raw heat and serenity
will accept me as the eye of the storm.

1. exercise
2. wash the dishes
3. cook
4. fold laundry
5. pick up toys

There are things I can't even speak about while living through them
for fear that telling the truth would expose me as a fraud.
Cries for transparency go unanswered because we ourselves are unable to comply.
Oh, Ego will crumble!
Time will tell and walls will fall.
The old model, outdated, must cave to make way for the new style.
I can fell the ulcers
growing in my stomach
as the stress rages through my veins.
Head pounds at temples,
caffeine and nail-biting are poor pacifiers.
Illegal. Entrapment.
I've been had.
Duped by my naivete
and unfailing ability to trust
far more than most recipients can be responsible for.
"A lengthy engagement" is right.
When you love too much your heart just might explode.

to organize it all,
sort it, sift through,
leave only what is precious
for validation.
oscillating between wanting it all
and the emptiness,
and it's okay.
this universe is big enough for
the contradictions
my mind and body balk at.
hypocrite?
not i!
we are made
in waves.

this heavy wooden furniture
is weighing me down.
please, move it out now.

He needed love,
and I was love for him;
the thunderstorms ended
and sun shone through.

Many things are broken, dirty, cracked, and moldy. And it's okay. I am all these things. So are you. If not right now, then some day we all will be. And it's okay. That's how things are supposed to be. We were made to break down and decay, but we were also made to see the light anew again and again. Our time will come to be the shadow, then to be the light that brings the shadow to life. It's part of the process, part of the plan.

It's easy to look around and envy the beautiful luminosity that surrounds us, and to despise the filth and wreckage that also flanks our existence. It is not as simple to accept them for what they are and realize we are both these things as well, and all at the same time. Nothing short of a miracle, that's for sure.

How is it that we and all the world were made to embody the highest of highs and lowest of lows all at once? What an impossible feeling! Nothing, nobody among us is perfect, and therein lies the beauty of existence - life and death wrapped up together in perfect harmony. Stars punctuate the night sky. Shadows dance across the land, laughing between the sunbeams. Light and dark do not exist apart from one another. We all are made of shadows and sunshine, cobwebs and candlelight, dust mites and daybreak.

When comparison, judgement, and jealousy are removed, it becomes clear: I am what I am, you are what you are, we'll be what we'll be. Que sera, sera. There is no good and bad, no clean or dirty, no alive or dead. Whatever is is whatever is meant to be. In this moment. Only in this moment.

I have enough, I am enough, just the way I am.

I shine right from the inside.

And you do, too. We all do.

The shadows that scare us so are projected from within. Look into yourself, into your inner light, and find your truths. Face what scares you. It's all inside. Get your relationship to yourself right, and that's all you need. ♥

i'm back here,
hand-on-my-shoulder-guiding,
i have no excuses.
this is the path.
it leads 'round and 'round,
back again,
heffalumps and woozles,
something i left behind,
a trinket,
cherished moments,
not so much attempting
to relive the past
so much as
glimpsing back
at what used to catch my eye
and cause that glimmer of excitement:

i would wake up in the middle of the night
compelled to move things -
- move my hand
rhythmically
writing
ignoring the world around me
for my muse
my shadow
my guardian angel
my, oh my, how we are one and the same.

coming back, embracing this
and seeing where the path goes,
i follow eyes closed
but not blind
seeing-feeling-believing with the third eye
collective
soulshine
time on our side
ever wise
deep river pulsing
blood rushes by
baby soothed by heartbeat sounds
hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.

when you have a son
the world means something different,
the word [boy] means something different:
son, sun.
light of my life,
love of my life,
enamored with what makes you different from me
because we used to be one and the same.

I read today,
I'm writing now,
been maintaining a presence,
albeit a faint one,
as parts of my life fade into the ether
while others emerge
off the back burner,
& I'm ready to turn up the heat in here,
reaaally get cooking:
caramelized consonants,
alliteration a la mode,
true taste of organic words on page,
pure nourishment for body, mind, & soul.

I'm hungry. :)