Even as we float along in our lives, whether we have a plan or not, there are always obstacles. We will swerve to try to go around them but more often than not we end up running straight into them. They are unpredictable and sometimes scary.
Relationships particularly, we think we have some control. But it’s all just an illusion. Control in a relationship is taken by the one with less insecurities. The side with the insecurities is just supposed to ignore them. They are supposedly signs of doubt and unease. But to dismiss these feeling we have is to deny the fact that we have them. They aren’t unhealthy, they are a sign of unease. But it is not our fault that we have them. For those people who have fears, for those who need to be reminded of the love and faithfulness that their mates have for them. Do not dismiss the feelings. Yes there may be times of loneliness and sadness, they may find it unreasonable and think you unstable. But you are just thinking clearly and want to feel wanted… completely understandable.
Listen to the people around you that understand. The lyrics of a scorned artist, the ballad of an unresolved poet, the blog of a lonely lover. We understand the insecurities. They happen, it’s common. But taken strength and confront your partner. Tell them your doubts. Make them understand what you want in the relationship. DO NOT HIDE. You are strong.
People dying every day
People dying every way
People dying in their beds
People dying inside their heads
All I wish is when I die
I have Jesus by my side
No strangers by my bed
Friends and Family by my head
So I can see them as I close my eyes
And breath my last breath
My heart rate is getting slow
My children pleading “Please don’t go”
That’s when I’ll have to say
That I’m going home
To be with my husband
To dance with my father
That is where I belong
Right there among
My family when I die
I love the Lord, My God, My King
I pray he leads me in everything
My hate and sin, sorrow and pain
Take them away, wash them in rain
Take my body, heart and soul
My savior Jesus makes me whole
I love the Lord, my God, My King
I pray he leads me in everything
To reflect is a leisurely opportunity that many cannot afford.
To try to change the direction of your life can seem impossible. It feels as if once you have started moving there are no other possibilities until you have reached the end of the tracks… Then you can choose a new set of rails and ride those until they have ended, or you have crashed. Some are lucky enough to realize that they are not on the tracks they wanted to be on. Some may try to jump trains as they see the things they have always wanted flying past them. Some make the jump. Others do not. Some people are pleased with the tracks they follow. Ignorant of the things they truly want. Pushing along at their sub-level lives. They are blessed with seeing the beauty of everything their life touches.
To start with a title is to define the ending. If ever I start with the end there is never a beginning. Drawings start with an idea. Or at least their supposed to. A picture is formed in the artists head of what they want to make. Then the brain sends signals to the hand to pick up the brush and begin. But to begin painting with nothing in mind is to waste the paint. The art turns to an ugly array of indistinct lines. Pointing nowhere. They form no shape. And what could have been a perfect master piece is something that will never hang on walls. Never be admired. Never be seen again.
Writers have it better. To let words flow from their mind to fingers. No endings necessary. Whatever needs to be said can be brushed forth with no after thought. Never to look back, or forward. But to always live in the perfectness of a moment that will never be had again. Not to critic. Not to plan. Following tracks until they end. When the words have left and there are no more to be found. That is when the story has ended. And a title can be put at the beginning.
And the writer may move on with new tracks. Or stop where he was dropped off. Often he cannot personally make that choice. The words decide for him.
I can’t breathe
The air has disappeared
Drowning in to everything else,
In this room
To fill my lungs
With the cool rush of wind
Fall to floor
In a coma
Don’t wake me
Flying in the happier places
My happy place
But of course
Rushed to a nurse
Cold ice claws me from my dreams
A shiver runs down my spine
As I slowly rise off the crackling bed
I can walk, barely
I have to go
Back to the place
Where the air melted
To nothing in an instant
Forcing my greedy lungs to contract
In a race to steal the wind back
To prevent the powerful, personal, pain
Of losing you
I love library’s
Full of books I never knew existed
rows and rows
of endless escapes from this world
information bleeding from pages
dreams put to paper
love drawn picturesque
I hate library’s
the whole only two books at a time
I want to read the whole series
I can’t rest my soul on a sleepless night with a book that is at the library
I want to own the book I read on in 7th grade, and don’t remember anything from it except that it is good
and as I sit there reading through the entire book at once,
with every heart twisting plot turn,
long after the silent tears fall for the elegant death of a friend,
and as new tears fall and my heart swells,
heaving as I remember to breath
I like to own my books
because they own me
they are a part of me
a fragile, leafy part
that can be ripped, dropped, torn away from me at any moment
but later that the Library taking their possessions back
Out of my life and back into the endless rows of variability
my heart is taken and put on a shelf
I ponder how many other hearts have been reached
by the precious words on those pages,
Or am I the only one whose heart floats
away in pieces?
How deranged do you have to be
To kill, to hunt, to hurt
Another human willingly
To be declared crazy
To think animals can talk
When should we start worrying
When your mind is quickly disintegrating
When you talk to invisible people seriously
When you make dinner in the bathroom
Stirring noodles in the toilet
When does weird become crazy
And crazy to mad
When do you have the right
To call some one crazy
Who are we to judge
To cast out people
Because they think
Or love or do something different
Different could be good
For you, for me, for the world
We could see everything
In a new way
All we have to be
So I’ve been reflecting on my relationships lately.
Here is something to ponder…
“Are you the kind of person… in which the kind of person you are looking for.. is looking for?”
Clearly there is no thought brought into the process of love.
Unless it’s forced. Unless there is a problem. Unless it is not true.
Then who are we to say we do not believe. Who are we to claim that what others have is a lie. For we are thinking. And there is no thinking in love.
Love’s not calculated. Not solved for. Not coded.
To even try to understand, is equal to capturing all of the universe in a picture. For how can you envelope everything so simply?
I’m not the type of person to do this. But the anonymous part of this process I am enjoying. For my father was always paranoid of the information that is put onto the web. However much of a computer person he maybe he never trusted them. Fortunately, I do not have this paranoia. I’ve accepted it more than anything. I’ve accepted the fact that there is more information on me out there than I can even comprehend. That out of all the connections that make up the internet there are some out there that are holding information specifically on me. I do not try to hide. But for my father’s sake I shall continue these posts anonymously.