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Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Escape


A breath.  Caught.  Inside.
A breath.  Exhaled.  Died.
It wasn't enough.  To breathe.

Shallow.
I never could get enough air. 
Enough peace.  Enough anything.
Staggeringly broken. 


By what every breath could not provide:
Life. My life.
Color inside.


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 no one heard me.
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.

My life.
My color.
My air.
My space.

Escape.

Escape.


Thursday, 25 October 2012

Nothing More Dangerous




"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.   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 (A Brief Summary of the Decision to Adopt)


The first time I felt so much anger.  So much pain and desperation.  It took a long time for all that inner desolation to be shot through with something else, hope.  For the murkiness of confusion to clear just enough.  Enough to see a different path, a different dream.  Outside of my own wants and the things I had decided (without much authority to do so I might add) I would have.  Things I wanted and no one would tell me differently.  Until they did.  Tell me differently.

Then in rushed all the hurt and grief and I felt blindsided.  But I understood a little better how little say we have over anything.  How almost laughable is the arrogance of authority.  I saw this though from a place far outside myself.  Still within, I was screaming and pounding my bruised fists on hard wooden table tops.

Then the different path presented itself.  Details began to unfold.  It all felt a bit unsure, hesitant but there was some brilliance there too.  Somewhere in a different place bombs were still exploding.  But no longer was it right before my eyes.

Then as if a miracle had occurred, a sure and steady strength reached down and grabbed me hard by my bruised heart and pulled me upright again.

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, the burden of pain became a burden of love, and beauty 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.