She's right--I very rarely write about my life on here. I don't know if that's because it's easier to pen the poetry the swims around in my head/heart/soul all day long or because I'm trying to touch the heart{s} of someone/many/myself or because I enjoy {trying to be a} mystery too much or all/none of the above. Whatever the reason, I'm throwing it out the window tonight--for her, because I adore her friendship and we are, after all, very old and dear friends...

Some days [like today], fear wraps its long arms around my chest as worry finds its way inside my body so that it might consume me from the inside out {worry is the very worst}. I feel like there's so little time, so much to be done, so much to feel, so much to love, so much to create. That is my favorite--to create. That is when I feel beautiful because I have been productive and invented and become something bigger than myself [ah, and imagine--God's level of creation is on such a grander scale! mmm the beauty...]. I want more of this time to create--more time to write and craft and paint and draw and learn and grow and read and laugh and feel--but I cannot [will not?] say no to school or work or people or elections or cleaning or dentists or cars or bills or groceries. Sometimes the thought of America haunts me, for it is driven by consumerism (worthless junk), high tolerance for immorality, uninvolved and greedy and selfish and celebrity-obsessed people (but really, let's not get me started on damn celebrities). And as much as this country sometimes disgusts me, I realize that I myself am a piece of this country; I carry around American values in my pocket, a true culture kid/junkie. And I want to rise above all of this, move somewhere--not anywhere, but somewhere--that does not thrive on work and worry. Until then, until I find a happy place [whether it be an actual location or a secret paradise in my mind] I find the optimist in me pointing out that I have more freedoms than I can even be thankful for, so thank You for putting me here and giving me life and freedom and health and love, especially Your love.


My second thought for the night:

I am in love with him, truly deeply madly in love. And there's nothing more comforting than his touch...but why do I cringe, sometimes? I'm pretty sure it's me, not him, because I'm always looking for something to do and cannot sit still and mostly he just likes to hold me but I cannot be held but I want to be held.

far too often i look for love/happiness/satisfaction in all the wrong places.


mmm. i hope that is what you were looking for, my friend [good night and God bless]...


RLS said...

I am so grateful for you. thank you for writing this - I hope it becomes a habit, I hope you do often, because this process of just releasing & abandoning criticism about your words or your thoughts is healing. I am convinced.

although I do think there is beautiful truth in poetry, it is HERE, in THIS that the truth puts on its own comfortable clothes: because the truth is straightforward; it is simple; and it does not need flowery phrases to be extraordinary.

I agree with what you say, about creating & not having time - yet, I feel that when we are doing those ordinary things, we ARE creating because they are an extension of ourselves, in a way. I think I have to start another comment before this runs out...

RLS said...

...I understand EXACTLY what you mean about someone wanting to hold you, & you want it, but you feel as though you cannot be - not fully. with race, I ALWAYS wanted his embrace because he rarely gave it - with justin, he was always willing so I didn't need it as much..

maybe that's it. maybe we're obsessed with what is unavailable, unattainable, unwilling - maybe we have to train ourselves to be intoxicated & overwhelmed by what actually wants us.

I love you. {come what may}

PixiePirate said...

ah, bum, i think that is SO true (about us wanting what is unattainable)...i think it's a human trait, a poet's trait, a feeler's trait...something we may never escape [but i think if i found a way to escape myself life would be much less beautiful, though i know it'd be much much easier]