As I walked through the checkerboard glass that composed the doors, my heart thudded. I knew what was in store for me. All the years of skipping the rope, all the times I shirked the gargle and spit. Knowingly negligent, I was. Continue reading
The afterlife is not what I expected. Burning my body was a mistake, although I suppose I move more freely without. Holding on to the notions of being limited by a physical form. Being dumped into a river isn’t all it seems. Before I exited my body I use to think that if my ashes were let into the environment I’d stay in the picture moment forever. Water doesn’t stay still, it is the child of the photo. I feel everything. The wind blowing against the debris of burnt skin. Handful by handful my essence gives way to the wind. The water is gentle but swift. Sly as it whisks up my being, and then it’s no longer my essence; not solely anyway. I am everywhere; the sensation is fascinating.
I would be lying if I said I haven’t been avoiding this page. This blank screen that stares at me and challenges all of my thoughts. A mighty bear tamer, this screen is. It has the ability to make the bulk of my thoughts back into a corner only pitching a low growl but daring not to come closer. The past couple of weeks have been a crumbling mountain. I don’t even want to reflect on all that has happened but here in the last few days I have been able to find jewels among the ruble. Grateful. I’d like to step forward. Tenderly, I’d like to come out of the cage. Pardon myself bear tamer.
I know that logic wins every battle and yet I can’t stop the way I feel. It’s selfish but I’m past caring who is wrong. I just know that I’m tired of trying to no avail. My spirit is withered and my thoughts are meddled. It’s so tough to argue a point of view that has so many strings pulling at it. Pros and cons; I’ve weighed them all. If potential is all that is there then reality is fractured and it isn’t worth pretending. We aren’t happy here. This is no dark cloud, it’s an everyday affair. Wake up and frown because the good times don’t outweigh the bad. Sad truth. I need to stop letting what could be drive what is…tomorrow won’t be different. I’ll still wake up wondering when things will change. I know it’s not all one person’s fault and that some self-reflection is due but dammit I deserve to be happy. I don’t love the person you are; I love the person you are so good at playing. Find the courage to stand up – I scream it every day in my head. Doubt. What am I to do with these torturous thoughts? I don’t want to leave you but I want nothing more than to be away. Is it that I really love you or am I just dependent and lonely? Sad truths. Lost and confused. I think it’s time to say done.
This post is so genuine and very nicely articulated. I simply had to share.
I recently made a facebook post about wishing the world was under water and that we all lived beneath the sea. Within this post I spoke about the magical blur water puts on speech. I received comment about how it was depressing to think about because it “clearly” came from a dark place. When I heard this, while I understood where that person could interpret such a mood, part of me felt sorry for the lack of shared vision. I did not intend to suggest that we should all be drowned out…
Picture with me a world were we as a race were conditioned to breath beneath the depths of the deep blue. Continue reading
I must say, I have been inspired by the work of Bun Karyudo (boon car-you-dough. Pronunciation is important). I find myself glancing at his blog quite frequently, always profound, always light hearted. When I picture this man, who claims to be in his fifties, all I see is a young thirty five year old rubbing his chin in thought – probably contemplating the oddities that compose the world. His words are intelligent but still carry the whimsical feel of adolescence. I like that, and as I slouch over my bowl of eggs chasing the running yolk with my croissant a smile inches itself out of the corners of my mouth. I’ve just finished reading his blog post Spots of Bother. http://bunkaryudo.com/spots/
My imagination now refueled, I chuckle at the thought of this unhatched egg looking into a mirror, distraught at its yolky flesh dripping away. Egghead’s yolk has no form and is stringing itself into the air holes its fluffy croissant collar provides. Continue reading