Falling Leaf

•March 20, 2017 • Leave a Comment

 

Falling Leaf

 

Wind moves, the skirt stirs, fingers run through the lines of my sweater.

Hands spreading chills across the back bone

Tickles like the winter sun, cascading down the back..lifting the hems

Turn sideways as chill mixed with the remembrance of spring,,goosebumps up the leg.

Falling, twisting, almost upside down..almost

Life in almost..

Edges starting to brown and pull into self, the familiar scent of me,

Turned over..backbone raises to the skies..wind wisps and I flinch sideways..

Adjust and then float..

Falling..lift up..picked up by the fingertips..

Held in suspension..head down..almost crashing to the ground..

Wind fingers wrapped about the ribcage..squeezed..is there breathe..will there be breathe again..

Pushed up while held down, silent gasps for breathe, Light flows through the cracks..what is being seen…

Brown, earth..muddled color..seeping to the edges..just alive will not allow me to float..

One part anchored to the ground..another part reaching, pulling to the heavens..

Gusts blow..pushing shoving..thoughts kept contained for the times no one can hear..

Weep from me..

Swirls in grey masses..is how I imagine the wind at dusk..

Falling leaf..

Just as the sky will determine what the next day will bring..

Red to coax the sun to return itself tomorrow..with soft, pushy clouds that play peek a boo with your thoughts.

Lifted, moved, jostled a bit with the promise of another moon to speak into the night.

Grey masses of tension layered with lights dancing beneath the wings, lifting up and up, no farther..my thoughts may come out and in this instant I want no one to hear them.

Purple mixed with shots of blue to produce somber lilac..is it anger or confusion

Or neither..

Just a show for the benefit of all who pause to watch..

Gust from beneath the leaf. Yanks and twists and turns..

Feet down. Ready to stand on the brown, with green interlaced..

Shoved and then stillness.

Float..like the hawk..on the gusts..lifts its head to feel the filtered sun..so much light..

Arms go slack, trusting resting on the moody wind..

Glad it contains the thoughts I do not want anyone to hear.

Currents of feelings run through the legs, sortings..

Stutterings..move up, drop down, plunge from the high dive..

Falling, crashing, right before impact, lifted up..pulled up like a grasp at the back of the neck..right before the fall..

Slammed awake..gasp and repeat..done all over again..

Grabbed, lifted, tossed about, plunged into the hold..silent thought..feeling so full it feels absent..

Rocking, raging water..nicking edges..the rush goes all over..more noise and then suddenly silent..

Falling leaf.

Summoned back to the air..to float..wondering if I can stay here in this imagined limbo and only, just only look at this thought..which contains everything.

Water cold races over edges, splattered about just enough to get the gasp..

Skim the rock edges, patterned about like a statue carved in standstill and tells a story with just a glance.

Under water, holding breathe..

Falling leaf.

Held under, look about..

Rushed to the surface to guarantee breath..

Does this dance mean I am alive..

Or is this alive they tell us to live..come in these moments..

And the rest, which appears to be mundane..keeps us seeking for the rushing, swirling, upside down wind..

Meant to catch breathe, meant to hold breathe, meant to smile at the breathe.

Falling leaf.

Leaves dancing low on the ground, pieces coming off, little chips of the total.

Defined in this way, that way..

Why then does it weep..

Why does it return to this ground..

Hard and bitter at times..

Green and sopping with tears, laughs, eyes wide open moments..

Scarves scattered about..dancing like cotton balls fallen from the glass jar..

Teetered from one side to the other..

Dance reminiscent of the hammock caught in a gust…with no warm length of life to hold it steady.

Twisted, turned, wrapped upon itself..

Striking back between the two trees anchoring it to this world..

Grabbed at one end and then the other..

Held tight..

Falling leaf..

Wind lifts up while the other pushes down..

Reminiscent of the hug, the hold that settles you into a deepness so vast, you want to go deeper..

And catches your breathe you forget to breathe, nor do you want to remember.

Move across blacktop and sporadic puddles..lifting ever so slightly onto the grass..bordered so it does not wander.

Resting head down..momentarily..

Moved up..going higher and higher

Leveled out.

Falling leaf.

Moving fast, twisted around, spinning with a lightened head of a child who slowly loses it..gives in to gravity..and seeps to the ground..

Opened eyes, world spinning all around in the edges.

The rest focuses..on the point of contact once more..it stays steady..

Arms splayed, beseeching for the heart to stop in its parade of jolts..

Sink in..edges still curled..like it wants to hold things close..

Why will it not move, why lie still..

Sink back in..spine moves closer to the mattress of green. Still lifted slightly above the edge..never fully down..almost prepared for flight..always prepared for flight.

Falling leaf.

Still

How still

Wait

Breathe held

Know what is coming

Edges trembling

Folding in for the hold, hug

Picked up again..sail away

Lost in the wind

Again for the ride

Falling leaf

 

 

 

Stories

•March 10, 2017 • Leave a Comment

We all have them…some more numerous than others.

Some more tragic..

Some more like a family movie..

Some more with disguises to keep the questions away..

And some that make people question..

Sometimes the stories do not match up to the person we see standing in front of us..

And is that more of our illusions being dumped on another..

Or truth..?

Why do we bring out parts of our story out at..inconvenient times..?

And why do we tuck away in our coat pockets shredded tissues of the remnants of those stories..and why have they become lint in our pocket..

Does what happened to me as a child have any real bearing on this moment..

Or how much of it am I allowing to have bearing..

And why do some stories make you decide to never be like the story..

And why do we use the story to feed our addictions..and be just like the story before you..

Am I my story..?

Or is that what I use to keep me rigid in this description of me..

Are we all so determined to make value of our story…that it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy..

Or what..?

Am I just a mother..

Yet am I also a lover..

Am I a hard determined..balls to the walls employee..

Or am I the writer that screams at me hourly…put the damn pen to paper..

Am I a woman of a description..

Or has the events plagued upon the girl..created this girl..

So how much of my story am I..

And how do I daily..second my second..cement that in stone..

Today I look in the mirror..

One of the many days spent in reclusive introspection..

And this surge of electric anger causes me to flip off my image broadcasting itself to me..

I fight this story..

I claimed it as my own for too long..

And I did not write it..

Someone else did..

And I never signed off on it..

Kind of like my marriage I never wished to enter..

And would and did fail..

Not because of qualities non existent in me..

No..

It was a story I was told to follow..

A plot I never agreed upon..

A relationship the farthest from real..

So now I base everything on it..

And say…I cannot succeed at relationships..

Does my story fit your description..

Or is it bleeding into other’s lines..

I am fearful..stomach clenching, pacing about the room..like the tiger in the cage..

I am scared of this relationship failing..speaking words that are not mine..refusing my needs..and stating words that a 53 year old white woman, mother of four is supposed to say..

You know the words..

Devoid of passion..

Yet how I would love to curl this being around the definition of me that is writing these words on this page..

The one that creates..

Not the mother..not the wife..not just the lover..not the hard worker..nor the one who has waited in patience for decades and can now be in the dictionary as the definition of patience..

But the one I just flipped off in the mirror..

Because that is me..

The one hiding in the mirror..

And I just cracked the glass..

 

The umm of letting go

•March 6, 2017 • Leave a Comment

No other words have ever upset me more…except the words of “I love you” right before the slap.

Letting go…

YIKES…

I can say I have never said those words…yet something similar…

Yet what I say at this moment is this…

Grieve you beautiful person you…Grieve..

Stop please putting pretty clothes on a boar..

Stop putting glitter on vomit..

See it for what it is..

Believe them for what they are..because they show you right away..

We just spend so much time putting on our holographic glasses..projecting images onto a really sick reality..

Yeah I know..

I gave a lot of my precious time to it also..

I believed that I was damaged goods..

Grieve..

Sit in the tub and weep…

Stand in the shower, pressed against the cool back splash, vomiting up all the lies and illusions…

Grieve..

Realize the amazing amazing being that you are..

You believe..you hope..you persevere..you love..and do we have to even talk about your faith…

The death grip goes away..

Understanding enters..

And you can walk away..

And never..never..let it go.

Fool..Foolish..Absurd

•March 5, 2017 • Leave a Comment

“Sometimes you have to play the role of a fool to fool the fool who thinks they are fooling you”

Best quote ever…

Why…?

Because we live in a world that would prefer a dance with the obscene..the mocking of kindness..

And those fools believe the notions cascading like raindrops in their mind…

They are quite attached to their madness…

And become quite angry when you do not play along..

Actually I will not attach anger to it…

It is more like a child throwing a tantrum…

And it is really humorous when you see a man of 55 do it…and his ex-wife who is just about that age do it too..And I wonder why I do not drink..go figure..

It is amusing to watch the dance…

And then they wonder why you do not know the steps…

Foolish behavior deserves foolish measures…and foolish results will…what do they say…be the death of a fool…

Playing with fools gets you sitting in the sandbox..eating turds…

Playing with fools has you posting words across your Facebook page of the man you have set up since day one…proclaiming him to be “your soulmate”…

Is that what we call your F… now..? Good to know.

Play with fools and your liable to lose a finger..

Play with fools and your liable to get a disease that has you pooping in a baggy at your hip…forever..

Play with fools and your probably going to be looking at the world from a vantage point that only prostitutes and drugged up..incoherent porn stars visit..

But hey…that is what they call the truth now right…?

Or at least that is the spin they put on it….

And it is selling like popsicles..in the pit of hell…

And…

Never quite getting relief…

 

Other Voices Have Much To Say..Grasshopper.

•March 2, 2017 • Leave a Comment

I was told yesterday, as I had taken a step in progress in a new skill I am learning…

“Well done Grasshopper”…now that is an icon from my generation…when television shows were real…like the Velveteen Rabbit..

So this morning in my journal and reading what other voices have to say…I saw this quote and I thought….

FREAKING PERFECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you realized how beautiful you are, you would fall at your own feet.

Byron Katie

Oh my…

It is like the biggest light bulb went off….

I know why there are some people who are trying to convince me that I am trash…that I need to be silenced….and it really just hit me right this minute…

Because I just got..how beautiful I am…

And I am not talking about physical beauty…

I am talking about..beauty..beauty…

That thing that narcissists, sociopaths, psychopaths, and abusers see and have to…

Well squash..have it all to themselves..have you around them so you make them look good..try to steal it from you…by making you believe you are a disease..and then thinking by them stealing it..they become it…

SO sad…

I mean what is all the chatter about….?

If I am a freaking piece of crap, why would anyone want anything to do with me…?

Yeah now you get it…

If you realized how beautiful you are, you would fall at your own feet…

Abusers, people operating in spiritual deficit..do not hang with their like kind…because they would evaporate into nothing more quickly..they must go after beautiful souls..they must..because you cannot feed off of eroding garbage…

Today is a whistle day…

And tomorrow…and forever…

Because through some grace…

I found the truth…the absolute, profoundly dumbfounding truth of me..

If you realized how beautiful you are, you would fall at your own feet.

Time for some more whistling Grasshopper….

Good choice.

Treadmill

•March 1, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Besides being in nature…running on the treadmill tops my favorite things to do…

Well maybe add..reading while in nature with a cup of tea…there is the greatest solace…the true entrance into reality…that thing we rarely see.

Treadmill running…

Even ground..

Perfect incline..

Perfect speed..

Foot roll..

Springboard off of toes..

Muscles, tendons, ligaments, blood rushing, everything in perfect balance..

And at 53..my stride is better than ever.

They say when people run..they leave their body.

I will disagree with that.

It is when I am 100% located within this frame.

I must be for everything to work.

For the blood to regulate the amount into the legs and..

How do we get the backwards valve to function to run..have no awkward breathing.

How do we allow the murmur..to be the voice.

I feel everything…

Posture..foot roll..take air in..release air out.

Reality is present.

This is what I am..

Not that woman who listens one more time to your complaints..

There are none to speak of.

Everything happening is brought by your hands..

So your hands deal with it..

I like what my hands have brought forth..

It is like the big evergreens talking in the wind..

Wave starts at the bottom where the wind ruffles the edges..

And like a wave ripples up one side and shakes like a dog coming out of the water..

Like running..

Look about..see the incline..shake loose the edges..begin the stride..breathe..forgotten ailments..

That thing you want me to focus on..

Disappears..

The wind picked up..

It becomes a noticeable roar..

And my patterns of ignoring me for you..

Became part of the treadmill rubber…

Cleaned up by a paper towel..tossed in the nearest can..bagged for the pickup day..taken to the place of all the other useless notions..eventually brought to what it really is..

Nothing

Ready for Love When?

•February 27, 2017 • Leave a Comment

I heard the most absurd thing a few days ago…

And self admittance will tell you, I sort of fell for it…But that is due to the fact I was and partially am still viewing myself through the abusers eyes.

Well check check…that is now off the list of things to do.

Many who read this blog, know my history..

Child abuse, domestic violence marriage, 4 abusive sons, and relationships that were highly abusive.

Shocker right??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not surprising in the least.

The surprising fact is this…

I believed those blowhards that something was wrong with me…

That I held within this frame..a deficit.

Aww Come On…you held that belief too…

It is why you spent time, whatever amount it was, tracing the same circle with your toe in the sand, trying to figure out what was wrong with you…

Instead of realizing what was so right with you…and that is why you were chosen…

Oh, I made your ears perk up huh….!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is way easier, way easier and more rewarding in the evil way to get another to doubt their beautiful existence. To confound, confuse, crush that beautiful mind.

It makes them so much more pliable to being abused.

You are back- doored continually for everything that is beautiful about you.

Well actually the truth of you…

Anything else is pure garbage…and you know it..even if it is making you mighty uncomfortable at the moment…I got ya.

I was told that I am now more available to be loved and to love, because I have run the good course and have finally cornered the problem….

I am going to interrupt the normal broadcasting system…beep beep…

From the moment I dwelled inside my mother(whether I was wanted or not)..I was ready and capable of being loved and loving.

From the moment I came forth into this world, yes this beautiful world..

I was and have been ready and willing to love and be loved, even during abuse.

Protecting self, guarding the heart, being wise, weeping for the assault on the soul(because believe me they do not weep for what they have done to you)….did not make me less capable, deserving, able to love and be loved.

We, you, me have been fed a smelly pack of horse doo doo…

You have been blindsided, pushed, antagonized, tortured into believing you are in a deficit….and they are the only source of supply to fill you up, bring about change and make you worthy of love…

Alas, poor me…

Had to throw that in…

The truth, the reality is this…

You are wounded….you are discouraged…you are slightly blinded….your reality has been torqued…you have been conditioned to believe love is anxiety drama…(sound familiar)…?

Yet you are fantastic….

You know what love is…you know how to love…you are worthy to be loved…you are loved(just not by the abuser).

There is no time frame..no requirements have to be met..no grades or certifications need to be passed..no intelligence..no looks..no skills…

It just is…

Take a breathe…

I know..you have not heard that in a long time…

You are right as rain….

You my lovely…are lovely…

No great classes to go to…to find where your heart went and how you managed to mess it up…you did not..

You need to do one thing..and one thing only…

Just go out in this world that loves you…and be…

And that my friend..is love

Not broken…no apologies..

Damn…what is next on the list…?