Hi friends, I'm all done here for good.
Thank you all so much for joining me on this blogging journey and
God bless you all!
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
A breath. Caught. Inside.
A breath. Exhaled. Died.
It wasn't enough. To breathe.
I never could get enough air.
Enough peace. Enough anything.
By what every breath could not provide:
Life. My life.
Enough air to breathe.
Enough space to be.
All this time I searched for you.
I looked and looked and couldn't see.
I screamed and screamed
But not very loudly.
I waited out the days and nights.
Apologized and explained too much.
Wasn't me. Wasn't me. Wasn't me...
A subtle shift.
A sudden strength.
My heart. My heart. My heart. My lungs...
My soul. My time.
My one. My one.
Thursday, 25 October 2012
"Nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future."
I agree and would add other dangers that threaten the human spirit are complacency. Indifference. Unquestioned material security. I am terrified by such things. Perhaps my most genuine fear, spiders aside, is the fear of growing complacent and too secure in the routine of my life. So secure that I am blind to others needs, others pain, others in general. So secure that I no longer think or question or grow or no longer desire healthy changes in myself. So secure I no longer desire an element of insecurity in my existence.
I have an adventurous spirit. Not in the physical danger\ daredevil sense of the term however and yes, I freely admit that. ;) I am adventurous in the sense that I live my life in a willing fashion. I feel I am willing to do what I truly want to do and willing to not be pressured into doing what I do not. Adventurous because my soul yearns for possibilities and rebels against social norms. "You must do this. You must do that." Why? Why must we do anything? The only thing we "must" do is live seeking the truth of why we are here in the first place. We must strive toward constant growth.
Yesterday I turned 32 years old. My husband and I went out for dinner and oddly enough talked about this very subject. What does it mean to have a "secure future" and do we want any part of it? We reached the conclusion that to us a secure future is not found in one particular place. It is not being in one particular country or one particular home. We discussed how we both feel that we could live anywhere and since we share our own version of an "adventurous spirit", I do believe we could. We determined rather that the feeling of security must lie within our own hearts. If it does then we already have a secure future in the sense that our security does not depend on or change with outward circumstances.
I am not impressed with material wealth, fame, popularity, influence etc. Just don't care. I like quirky things. I like quirky people. I am impressed by people like Mother Teresa and Vincent Van Gogh or those who go against what society tells them they must do and make some sort of remarkable difference in the world or those who go against what society dictates and lead quiet yet remarkable lives that no one ever really hears about. I'm all for that. I'm all for living a normal life too by the way. If by normal you are truly living and breathing freedom, empathy and compassion no matter what your circumstances. Not normal in the sense of "keeping up with the Jones'"
We never know, and it's very right we don't know, what the future will bring. Where we will be in one year, two years, ten.
So I'm 32. I drink a lot of tea and a lot of coffee. I light a lot of incense. I pray and do a lot of soul searching. I laugh a lot. Talk too much at times. Imagine myself as some sort of wise wandering guru. Acknowledge my reality is slightly different. I have a ridiculous sense of humor and find a lot of things funny that most people do not. I dream huge dreams and believe that I have a wealth of opportunity and possibility open to me. I have a lot faith. I like to really talk and am utterly bored by small talk. I think most people are pretty interesting. I like to travel and explore. I adore thrift shopping and cutting my own hair. I have a passion for Italy and India. I love to read. I love to write. I like to paint. I try to be genuine. I sometimes find it a struggle. I hate when things are phoney. I'm not really a huge success in any of the things the world acclaims as important but ehh, you know, I don't really care. :)
Maybe someday I'll be your neighbor. Someday I might live in Mumbai or Texas or some random little village in Italy. Some day I might consider a successful day one where I've just eaten a lot of fresh mango and slept in a hammock. In fact I'd consider that successful now. Someday I want to live where the weather suits my clothes. Someday I want to walk the Camino de Santiago. Go to Lisieux. Go to Medjugore. Go on a hundred billion pilgrimages. Some day I want to roam around the world again with my husband. Someday I want to live right down the street from a Catholic church. So yeah, someday. Or today. How about today?
Anyway, gotta run. Gotta go. Gotta live. Cheers Darlin'.
Friday, 19 October 2012
The first time. So much desperate anger. So much desperate pain. Desperate desperation. It took a long, long time for all that desperate desolation inside ourselves to be shot through with tiny, burning rays of hope. For the murkiness of blinding confusion to clear just enough. Enough to see a different plan, a different path, a different dream searing its way into existence. Outside of our own wants and the things we had decided (without much authority to do so I might add) we would have. We WOULD have and no one would tell us differently. Until they did. Tell us all we wouldn't have. Then we couldn't fight it. In rushed horror and hurt and grief and even though we felt blindsided...blinded... we at least saw how very very little say we have over anything. How almost laughable is the arrogance of authority. But we saw it from a place far outside of ourselves. Still within, we were screaming, sobbing, pounding bruised fists on hard wooden table tops and dying. Still within there rushed a tidal wave of unchecked devastation.
Then the different path presented itself. We watched details unfold themselves. Watched, hesitant, unsure, almost shy as a brilliant newness sprung to life in our thoughts. Brought hands up to our eyes, roughly pushed tears away. Somewhere in a different place bombs were still exploding. But no longer was it right before our eyes.
Then as if a miracle had occurred, blackness stopped seeping its way into our hearts and lives and a sure and steady strength reached down and grabbed us hard by our bruised hearts and pulled us upright again. We could finally stand up straight and look ahead and believe that hope existed.
Somewhere far away, eight months before the end of an unspeakably terrible war that took 100 000 lives, a little boy was conceived. Amid the chaos and confusion of a suffering country, one life, the life that would come to mean everything to us, began.
And so, beauty in the form of a little boy full of spirit and joy came to us from a most unlikely place.
And so for us, our burden of pain became a burden of love, and beauty leaped up, fiery and alive, from the ashes of what appeared to be the destruction of our hopes and dreams. It took a long time to understand that destruction was the only way to bring forth newness and growth.