Neither Life Nor Death

Peppermint purRing....thoughts...

Purring and pounding in my head...

So numb now, perhaps with a little more time I will completely cease to feel alone... that would be nice... oh yes...

Of course no more feelings at all would mean it wouldn't matter if I were alone...

I hope it is possible.

I am trying so hard to keep going. I really am. Why am I failing so miserably at this? The answer is obvious, of course.

 I feel like the little plant sitting on our kitchen table, wilting and depleted. Deprived of the sun and water, its leaves' cracking and crumbling into dust. Oh, how piteous and loathsome I have become.

And yet.... moments here and there, I feel.....something new stirring....

Or at least,  I hope it is something... a tiny beam of sunshine on the horizon, poking through the dreary clouds and desolate shadowy peaks.

Is it that peace that passes all understanding? Oh, how I hope so... I must continue to fight this crushing weight I keep finding myself under....

There are so many moments where I feel myself swallowing a lump in my throat; holding back my loneliness and despair.... stopping the tears from welling in my eyes, so as not to disrupt something already so volatile and weak. Drawing away to prevent making matters worse. Sacrificing my feelings at the alter of his illness... it is necessary sometimes...oh yes...and it may be the loneliest feeling of all. I must stay strong... especially when its only me here...

Me, in charge of almost everything. I was never meant to be in charge of anything, I am so scatterbrained and clueless... And not that I necessarily deserve it all the time, but it would be so much easier if my attempts were met with love and gentleness... which they are, sometimes....but who can say when?

Every day, even every hour, or minute, is a gamble. I go about my work, flipping through one chaotic scene after another, to come home to.....a mystery. It may have a happy ending, or a very sad one, or anxious and unsettling.

It would be easier if it was just one thing all the time, good or bad, if I could only know what to expect....

Why can't I shake this feeling?  Why can't I just be numb?

...


And I can't even be mad about it, because it is no one's fault.

But there is also no way out.

Sometimes I wonder if that is truly why I feel alone, simply by knowing that I will always be alone. It is the life I have chosen. No one I know will be able to quite understand this, to feel precisely how I feel, and why I stay, despite how absolutely miserable it can be...

 And I'm NOT writing this to try and express some sense of nobility or high morals...

Its my choice. A good one, or a bad one, I do not know; I don't think it is for me or anyone else to say.



Am I such a delicate little flower that I must inevitably be crushed by this...? Is my response to this a sign of weakness or sensitivity or simply exhaustion?

drecker

The wilderness of her heart was beckoning once again...

She stood up suddenly from the little table, scattered pages rustling in her wake as she moved swiftly toward the door. Opening it, she looked outside and tasted the air. It was fresh with the smell of wet earth. A wind blew down from the mountains and caught the loose strands of hair that fell around her temples. A chill ran through her. She stuck out her arms as if to catch the invigorating rush of the wind in a delicate, hidden embrace.

Her eyes closed as her other senses were overwhelmed in a moment of sheer pleasure. Silent wishes escaped through the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She stood alone in the doorway. Alone but happy. Alone but fulfilled, if only for a few moments. 

A clipped sound of metal. Scuffling feet across gravel alerted her to the encroaching procession of a stranger. Her breath stopped, and her face fell down as she backed away and pushed the door gently closed.

She stood alone, breathless, by the door for a few moments longer before slowly turning herself back to the table. A small glowing screen and her papers, still rustling, awaited her.
With a trembling sigh, she resigned herself to her fate.

oranges

So interesting how often we deny the drives that rule over everything we do. How often we look for ways to escape the ever-looming truths that frame every fantasy and every deed...

And how we then deny our denial by fabricating even more layers of fantasy and meaningless actions. A distraction from our distractions, so to say. But surely, there is some level of truth that we simply cannot know...?

And so perhaps the biggest mistake of all is to deny everything because we cannot know for sure.

Why must we know for sure what is true and what is not?

fuzz

Crazed and cradling pools to bathe in

Fire

Moments so immersive it feels like ill lose it all in an endless sea of intellectualism and philosophical exploration....

The pounding sound of death leaves me feeling so short of breath, like I'm drifting away unwillingly across the dark puddle of my mortality as my mind enters realms I was never meant to find...

To feel so awake and raw, so alive and yet acknowledging the rotting meat and blood and sinew shrieking and squelching in between soul and world.  

I am a fire at my core, burning brightly. 

The sun heats me; and I soak it in like 

A hearty flower 

dipped in a river of diamonds

I take this fire and I share it in small ways 

Flaming tendrils lapping against faces

Embracing mountains and infants

Snaking into the dark nooks and crannies 

Far below the shaley topsoil of my consciousness.

Dearest Lord, Creator, Father. My beloved... Jesus, my Savior. It is Your Glory shining down upon me that allows even the very sensation of Goodness and Joy to be experienced. Without Your Infinite, beautiful design nothing would exist, not even the merest whim or speck of dust. No souls, no time, no earth, air; no galaxies or black holes, concepts or impulses, connections, or species. 

Any perception given to me is only possible through You, for You are responsible for the existence of eery thought and feeling I have ever had. 

Everything I have or think i have, and everything anyone else has or thinks they have, is really Yours. To deny this is to claim ownership of something that was never something that could ever be owned. How can a tiny glimmer of light crafted so meticulously by a force so beyond powerful ever hope to claim anything? How can it do anything but what it was designed to do? 

Lord let me live as You have designed me to live, not as a deviant but so consumed with the fire of Your Perfection  that I cannot do anything aside from that which aligns itself with Your Glory. It is not simply love, it is Your Perfect Love that renews and  restores us, purifies us from the cancerous darkness that separates a sinful creature from the Light.