Let it Go

There are days when the world breaks my heart. Nothing particular happens, but a thousand tiny "somethings" upset the precarious balance I've fought tooth and nail to achieve in this chaotic world. The techniques that I've been practicing, such as meditation and reflection are desperately insufficient weapons when the tidal wave of disappointment swallows my mind. The tiny monsters that have been pushed into the recesses of my mind whose names are "doubt", "fear", "hate", and "loneliness" are washed into the fore front, clouding the light that keeps them at bay. I am too tired to think past my misery and I am defeated in this moment. I am frantic, drowning, with arms and legs that have grown tired from treading a lifetime. I sink, slowly, cold quickly stealing the warmth from my flesh. I stop fighting and float, drifting down more quickly now. I can't see the world anymore. I can't heart the sparrows singing sweetly. I can't smell the roses blooming in my doorway. I taste only water, frigid and relentless. It tastes like every bad word spoken in angst. It tastes like every embarrassing moment where my gut curls and flutters. It tastes like every promise broken. It tastes like lovers drifting away from one another, quietly going deaf from the silence of all the words they never say. It tastes like half truths, restlessness, and the guilt of every wrong choice you have ever made. I open my eyes and see shadows swimming close. I float further still, suspended in my thoughts, lost and drifting in them without hope, without purpose, and without the will to pull myself out.

Walking Dead, You Feel So Real *SPOILERS*

As I'm sure many of you are aware, last night was the season finale of The Walking Dead. While I'm still not sure what I'll do during Monday afternoons (I always watch the day after) I can honestly say that I was pleased by last nights episode. Sure it wasn't the usual, edge of your seat, head busting, gut exploding kind of edge that we've all grown accustomed to, but it was a indeed a sharp episode. I'm a sucker for a good story and I feel that good stories are easy to overlook if we're focusing too intently on making sure the brains seeping out of someone's mouth looks realistic enough. So, I'm sharing my two cents here, on my lil corner-o-the-web to what very well may be no one. Carl. Never, in the first two seasons, would I have dreamed to see this character progress so much in one season. Chandler Riggs deserves an extra organic juice box (or Scotch, whatever child celebrities are into these days)for making me move from loathing any time he was on screen because I knew his appearance would warrant at least 5 "Where's Carl?" questions, to making me lean forward, just a little, in my seat to see what borderline serial killer sentence would come from his mouth. We see his innocence slip away like so many zombie extras and there isn't a damn thing Rick can do about it. Carl is a product of being young during a time when being human is a luxury that ends with the people you care about dying. The is no room for the perpetual gray that his father, Rick, lives in. Black and white, live or die, there is no room for hope. Rick is on the opposite end of the spectrum by the end of season 3. You can tell that his humanity is ebbing back into him, breathing compassion back into his thoughts and actions (but at what cost?) His decision to allow Woodbury's survivors to find sanctuary at The Prison harkens back to the Rick of old, the one who had woken up to a world gone mad with fear. This is the Rick I enjoy. I really feel that his encounter with Morgan (who is now a hollow shell without his son) is what urged him to "Check himself before he wrecked himself." No one wants to be the lonely, crazy, survivalist with only rats (that are soon to be Walker bait) for company. Andrea is dead! And what's most shocking is I actually teared up! Andrea is (was) by far my least favorite character. I know that I'm not alone in my all things Andrea disdain. I think I hated her so much because she was so real. We all like to think that if zombies start tearing the world apart, that we'll be kicking ass and push forever forward. However, lets face it, most of us would be Andrea. We would be scared, we would look for someone strong to cling to, and we would lose hope, more than once. I can forgive her for her fear. Zombies ate her sisters face and she nearly killed Daryl (putting her on everyone's shit list) but what I can't get is how selectively obtuse she is. She's that friend that is constantly asking for your opinion but never taking your advice (and complaining about things never changing.) A lot of people were complaining about the way that she died (I.E. being an afternoon snack for Milton) but I thought it was fitting. There are only so many times that you back pedal on what you think is right or wrong before it..well...bites you in the ass (or in this case, the shoulder.) Do I think she could have taken him? Sure. Even Glenn killed a zombie while he was tied up and he's on the same ferocity level as my lukewarm cup of tea. Do I think it was poignant that she died at the hands/mouth of someone as weak willed as herself? You bet I did. They were both victims of their weak wills and I wouldn't have been satisfied with her having died at anyone elses hands. The governor has completely wigged out and I kinda love it. I feel as if The Governor is a vision of what Carl might become if something doesn't happen soon for him (Carl) to get a grip.I think a showdown between Carl and The Governor would be powerful, but we'll have to see what Season 4 holds. Overall, in my humble and often too critical opinion, it was an excellent place to bid adieu to us this season (even if I was kind of expecting Daryl to go all Apocalypse Now with the death of Merle still being so new.)

Dog Is My Co-Pilot

I remember a time when the sentiment "My life is going to the dogs" was something bad. It meant that there was no control, that chaos was following your every venture, that, essentially, your life sucked and there wasn't a thing you could do about it. As a dog owner, I wish my life was going to the dogs. My dogs are spoiled, happy, well-fed prima-donnas who live in a perpetual state of contentment and who live for jerky and belly rubs. Buddy, the youngest in my pack, is curled up at my feet, dreaming doggy dreams of birds chased in golden fields of light and joy. However, I'm currently procrastinating on doing paperwork for my job, that is more and more feeling like a responsibility I don't care to shoulder any longer. Dogs don't care about making the world a better place (and still manage to do so daily for those whose life they touch), they don't stress over deadlines, about gaining weight, about making a car payment or replicating their grandmothers recipe for apple pie. Dogs just live. I don't know if it's just that I'm gradually losing my faith in humanity, or if I spend entirely too much time hanging out with my buds of the canine persuasion, but I find myself trying to emulate their way of life. NO....I am not sniffing butts or chewing on the cloven hooves of other animals (at least not today)but I am trying to let go of the expectations I place on myself and the life I live. I work hard, but I don't beat myself up too much if I take a break to nap in the sun or find something yummy to snack on. I show affection freely and feel good about the affection I get in return from the people I care about. I avoid others who bring me down with their yipping and snapping...usually cat people. Living like a dog is pretty great. I'm not sure when we humans decided we were the superior species, but I think it might be time to take another look. We bind ourselves to jobs we tolerate and sometimes hate to buy things we don't need for reasons we can't explain. We would rather communicate with each other via internet than meet and make physical contact in the form of hugs (and belly rubs!) We are self-conscious of appearing too enthusiastic when we do something we love (like hearing our favorite song and dancing even when no one else is.) Dogs don't think like that. So, in my life's journey I'm happy to have Dog as my co-pilot. Even if it does mean frequent stops at the park for bathroom breaks and Frisbee. Actually, especially if means that. Someone (or something) needs to remind my feet that the dirt is soft, that the wind can carry a world of smells and that water tastes sweeter after a long day of playing and smiling.

Some Nights

"We are moons, we throw ourselves around each other We are oceans, being controlled by the pull of another..." As the night comes, my thoughts stop racing and I have time to actually think. I appreciate the quiet, the stillness, the calm. Being alone with your own thoughts can be a daunting task and looking inward is often life changing...sometimes for the good, sometimes not so much. However, I believe in confronting life head on, thus being the captain that steers my fate in the direction best suited for it. On nights where my heart is heavy and full with old hurts, I let myself feel it just as I would let myself rejoice in life's pleasant experiences. I express it, either with tears or a few strokes of my paintbrush. I cook lavish meals for no one. I listen to Adele and Mumford and Sons and sing/sob along with it. I call close friends and rage about old and new injustices simultaneously tying them together in my grief...and in being my friend they listen without judgement and throw in a few "fuck that!"'s for good measure because they love me. This is the best reason to use profanity, because you love someone. It's a hug through a phone line when real hugs can't be given. Coping is now a skill rather than an instinct in this age. Our society has bred its masses to suppress any excessive feeling. When we are happy, we should smile but never shout. When we are sad, we should cry but not sob. Rocking the boat will result in a dreaded label...shit stirrer, psycho, unstable...you get my drift. The number of individuals with anxiety disorders continues to rise because they are terrified of not living up to expectation, never realizing they aren't living. I have crossed oceans of progress to be where I am...and I still have miles to go. Again, I am thankful for quiet nights and reflection. I am proud of myself for being brave and letting my mind wander. I rejoice in my ability to act a fool in good and bad times. I hope to do so my whole life and provide an example for those that spend entirely too much time worrying what other people think. This is my life, and while people may join me for the ride and live with me, they can never live it for me. Hold on kiddies, the ride isn't an easy one, and I have no planned destination, but I'll be damned if the journey isn't fun.

Sentimental Fools

Friendship IXX by Khalil Gibran


And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

I found this beautiful and wanted to share it. I am thankful for the many friendships, strong and true, that I have earned in my lifetime.

We Are Stars

Oh night, the comfort you provide after a day that is too bright and moves too fast.

The sun is warm, but I will take your chill and softness over her intensity any day.

You soothe, lull and restore me.

You are dark so that your children may shine. You are the keeper of dreams, fantasy and forever.

I slow down to pay homage to you, to appreciate your quiet spaces and the beauty I find there.

Peace is mine, stars reflecting in my eyes as I gaze upward.
They are your love letter to the world that I never tire of reading.

Skin

This is a bit more bold than I normally write...so if you're squeamish, perhaps this is not the post you're looking for

I breathe fire when your well worked hands skillfully find their way to my core.

I take that heat, I take all of you, and I taste the ocean, salty and warm.

Intensity. I am water converting to steam.

Instead of your name I say please… I must ask before pleasure takes me.
Your answer lingers on your lip, forcing me to ride this wave. I must brave this storm for you, this sweet and sweeping wave of expectation.

I am released. I am this moment. I am bliss. You join me and we drift, clinging.
Legs intertwined, fingers laced, we are infinity bound in skin.