It is hard, some days very hard but
Why? They are everywhere.
In rain drops and baby smiles
Shoelaces and cereal boxes
Tree branches and sunsets
but still they escape me and
Float away on hummingbird wings.
Their essence slips through my fingers
Evading my mind’s grasp.
All just stories escaping my words,
Frozen thoughts someday to thaw.
What is this need,
This longing.
This emptiness that
Wants to be filled.
Wanting is the key,
Necessity is a luxury.
To feel the depth,
The inward spiral
Taking me down through the darkness,
Back into the light.
But now the light is warm
As the darkness once was.
A shift in perspective,
Leaves the darkness behind,
Softens the wrong.
2/14/15
MC
(I wrote this almost a year ago, after the first time he left me and then he came back and I was very happy, for a time but then he left again. I was never what he wanted, just someone to fill the space inside until, until what, I don’t know… and now?)
A new crop is rising,
A crop of hats, mittens,
Dog toys and charcoal grills,
Picnic tables and croquet mallets,
Ripped tarps and broken flower pots,
All forgotten, abandoned when winter forced us inside and slammed the door behind us.
A crop not intentionally left behind, just not thought of
In the business of life, lack of day and lengthening nights.
Our forgetfulness was hidden by darkness. In the awakening Spring,
The rakes and shovels are still hiding behind the trees, but
The lawn chairs and gnomes are springing up
From their blanket of snow,
They rise like statues, offerings to the Gods of Winter.
The snow retreats from their shoulders, knees and feet
To reveal the flattened un-mown lawn beneath them,
Left over proof of our Autumn failings.
We stare from our windows at the litter of
Leftovers and wonder how we could have forgotten them all as
They look back at us with blank faces,
Trying to pretend that it never really happened.
I am tired,
Tired of fighting me.
I have improved; I have found a way,
A good and honest way.
But the old ways and feelings
Die hard.
I don’t want to feel this anymore
I want it to go away – completely.
But I know it never will.
It can’t until I do, and even then…
It has become a part of me,
Not the me you see but
The me I know
And that me doesn’t know how to erase it completely.
There is no erase button,
No permanent “delete” option.
My Being accepts that fact and holds him close,
Not because of me, but in spite of me.
And some days when I am not even aware,
That I am thinking about him it breaks through again in silent, unbidden tears.
Are they for me?
Or him?
Are they for a way that should have been, could have been,
A way that needed to be but wasn’t?
I guess I will never know.
They say it doesn’t matter, it is no more,
It is not present in the now, only in the past.
But I think my Being forgot a little piece when it moved on,
And it is that little piece of me that still belongs to him that I miss.
Nostalgia, longing,
Is that what they call that slow, sad ache in my chest?
I get it when I think of my distant past,
My childhood, those days of security and family.
Parents who took care of everything, a father who was
Always there and the most honest man I have ever known.
The nostalgic pain is refreshed when I go on line and look at
Pictures of the town I grew up in and the memories they bring.
Today I am sitting in my writing desk listening to an infomercial on the tv in the other room.
It is an ad for recordings of love songs of the last 50 years, the nostalgic ache is as great as the music is beautiful.
A Time/Life collection of love songs from the past a few of which are: “At Last” by Etta James, “Stardust” by Nat King Cole, “Chances Are” by Jonny Mathis, and one of my very favorites “What a Beautiful World” by Louis Armstrong. Where have all the good love songs gone?
Are they gone because love isn’t the same today as it was then? Is it because sex means nothing more than a bodily function to most people? Are people really that difference now than they were in the recent past, or do they just not know any better?
Have we changed so much that love and sex are not personal or important anymore? I hope not although that is the way it seems more and more.
But I refuse to believe it even though I have loved and surrendered myself, all of me in truth to three men in my life and have been used and left behind by each of them.
Did I expect too much, expect them to be more than they are capable of? And was the past really so much better or have I painted it with unrealistic and romanticized memories based on songs? I don’t know, maybe.
But I remember my dad dancing with my mom in the living room, and I remember him telling me that there was no greater job to be done in this world than the one my mother did taking care of us and our home.
He lived and treated us and everyone in his life with respect and love. My ideas on how things should be are greatly influenced by him, and for that I am thankful.
Maybe it is because of him that my disappointments of the past and the most recent one have so deeply affected me, my dad is a hard act to follow.
But on the other hand it is because of the things he taught me that I will try to keep my heart open in the hope that maybe somewhere out there is a man who remembers the old love songs and what they really meant.
A man who is open to love and trust, understanding and compassion. I’m sure he exists; I just don’t know where to find him.
“The Great arises out of small things that are honored and cared for” Eckhart Tolle A New Earth
Such wisdom in so few words.
But what is the Great if not a compilation of the small.
Nothing is too small to be part of the one,
The Great unmainfested, is manifested in everything, including the small, especially the small.
It is through the ordinary manifestation of the One that it’s true
Heart and meaning is able to shine through.
Honor all “things” as part of the creator
Made touchable, reachable, real.
Ceremonies and traditions, ways of honoring the small things, act
As symbols and representations of caring for the One, the One all pervasive energy, the Creator.
Everywhere I look I see evidence of that truth.
When I open my eyes each morning, I acknowledge and honor the new day.
A new beginning with each sunrise, with each chime of the cuckoo clock
As the fresh born light angles across my bed and bedroom walls.
My breakfast food of sweet potatoes and spinach
Lies in splendor on the golden yellow dish,
The lightly colored beautiful orange sweet potatoes shine
In stark contrast to the dark green warmth of the spinach.
They are contrasts in wholeness, beautiful small things to be honored and appreciated.
As is the tea steaming in my tea mug which shares the mug’s space and honors its useful emptiness, tea honoring mug honoring tea.
The shower water’s warmth and the soap’s scent of softness and peace
Honor my body and I honor their usefulness and dedication to service without selfishness.
And with each step and in each and every place I go throughout the day
I try to take the time, maybe only a second or two, to notice and honor the small things.
After all, I am a small thing too.
“What a liberation to realize that the “voice in my head” is not who I am. Who am I then? The one who sees that.” Eckhart Tolle
It is liberation, a true freedom from me,
Not freedom from the real me, of course, but from the one my Being watches.
My ego and mind work together to mostly cause me trouble.
They thrive on the pain and disappointment in life and are always looking to bring more.
The drag me down, make my body hurt, and
Make me reactive instead of responsive.
It is not only freeing to know that I am not that voice in my head
But is also guilt removing, it enables me to forgive myself.
For as Christ said on the cross, “Forgive them Father, they know not what they do”
But this isn’t to say that to hurt others and lash out in anger is ever ok.
It doesn’t mean that we can do or say whatever we want and then
Justify it by saying it wasn’t me speaking, it was my crazy mind and obsessive ego.
The above is especially true when one has gotten to the point of acceptance of the truth.
The truth of the true Being that is me, the one who watches.
Once that acceptance and truth is known and truly felt with one’s entire being, there is no going back. So now, when the ego and mind get the upper hand,
It is my responsibility to rein them in, keep them in check, watch them carefully and not allow them to take me over,
For not to do so would not only be a disservice to others but also a betrayal of myself.
I was at the bottom with
No end in sight.
Mind numbing pain and sorrow
Blocked my vision and stopped my breath
But then, from a soul sister, in the silence of despair
Came a glimmering of hope,
A way to stop my ego, to
Reign in my mind.
She brought wise words of knowing,
A knowing and watching, a feeling and seeing.
And as I accepted that seeing and knowing, the thoughts began to drop away
One by one like autumn leaves.
There came an absence of words,
A deep stilling of my soul.
Finally a way to be, just be, the only way,
But not quite a total release as I was yet too weak, too exhausted from my struggle.
Parts of my ego and anger still held on, their grip
Like tentacles wrapped around my heart.
I wanted to let go, I thought that maybe the “wanting” was in the way,
But I accepted that soon even the wanting would be of no consequence, it would drop away on its own and
The anger would stop sneaking up on me,
Grabbing me from behind when I least expected it.
I know now that my ego and willful mind will not
Let go without a fight.
A fight to remain in charge, to perpetuate their control
And continue deluded behavior.
But I have changed, grown, and can now watch them from a safe distance and
At times even smile at their antics,
But I grow tired of their stubbornness, their uncooperative nature, their disdain for what is best for me.
They do not have my best interest at heart.
They have no heart.
Those two are not who I am and when I am finally in tune to the being that is my true self,
All else will naturally fall away and I won’t have to “deal” with either of them,
Nothing else will exists but the Now and
There I will happily stay.
Sad loneliness surrounds me, who will fill my heart
My soul, my body and how will I find him?
I am at home today, spending quite time alone
Watching the winter white fill the forest.
There is a pot of beef and barely soup
Simmering on the stove,
Skies waiting outside the door
And wine chilling in the snow.
This could be a wonderfully sensuous and
Loving day but instead it is tainted by loneliness.
I have no one to share it with,
The man I love and want isn’t who I thought he was,
He is not interested and so I sit at my desk alone
Thinking…
How will I find him again?
Will it be real this time?
I need him to hold me, come ski with me
Share a bowl of fabulous soup and
Sip my wine,
The sweet wine of love for two.
So the afternoon rolls on
The soup perfuming the air and Bach filling my soul with beautiful notes.
If only he would come to fill my heart,
Whoever he is…
A wind is coming.
I hear it in the trees,
I feel it in air,
I see it in the clouds.
It signals a change,
A departure from the norm.
A new wind, a new time.
A time to rest in His love,
A time to accept what is,
To forget what might have been.
The wind arrives and blows through my soul
And cleanses it but even its power cannot free my heart.
My heart is unresponsive and cold,
Only I have the power to change it, or at least I pretend to.
If only I truly did have that power,
My life would be so much happier.
I could choose to love who would be the best for me.
I could deny this love that won’t leave me alone and toss it out.
If only it were that simple
If only…
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