Inarticulate Me

Oops, I Did it Again!

2020-01-24T23:49:00.001-07:00

I stopped writing, that is.
I wrote two poems last week.
Effortless.
Joy, I felt.
Headaches returned, tho.
Making and creating new relationships
while fucking up others.
Yo-yo, anyone?

Long Ambients 2 by Moby semi-ease the mind.
Vibrations reverberate through my brain matter.
Really, that's how Moby works his magic.

In the air, randomness floats.
I light candles to ward off whatever is out there.
I'm dreaming again in vivid and detailed images.
Nightmares?
Oh, there comin'!

It's all in the cards, you now.
Ask the right question.
Get what's coming to you.

-- (c)deyanira.

http://scannerdot.com/tag/alan-dunn/

Space Without

2019-11-26T22:25:00.001-07:00

Off and on with space in between, I remember. Look more closely through windshields, I do. Look closer at resembling eyes, I do. Continue to look through the rearview mirror and reflections on windows, I do. Influential male figures, in my life today, are a blessing in that I can call upon them in spirit and listen to words I need to hear from a source I can trust. Those same words are muted if they come from me.

I lit a candle to honor interactions in which the whole of the world disappears. All sights. All sounds. Everything. Just serenity surrounds. The candle still burns almost 24-hours later. A sign that my time of self-reflection, healing, and renewal set in with the strength and resilience of bamboo. (It’s true. Look it up.)

The lens I use to see the fast-approaching horizon reveal openings into deep forests, open valleys, orchards, and blankets of flowers along the edge. Still, every part of me says to face His ghost. I’ve opened the box I left burning engulfed with blue flames. What remains refuses to turn to ash.

I met a man a few months back that offered a path leading to the defense of all that I am with force, clarity, and dignity. That first day, for an hour, His ghost floated around me. Those all too familiar khaki boots and dark blue button shirt flickered in the air. Every new movement intended to shatter His very core and extinguish His black light. An hour of His ghostly reflection is all I could take.

Avoidance haunts me now.

-- (c)deyanira.

Safe and Sound, by Capital Cities

I could lift you up
I could show you what you want to see
And take you where you want to be

You could be my luck
Even if the sky is falling down
I know that we'll be safe and sound
We're safe and sound

I could fill your cup
You know my river won't evaporate
This world we still appreciate

You could be my luck
Even in a hurricane of frowns
I know that we'll be safe and sound (safe and sound)
We're safe and sound (safe and sound)
We're safe and sound (Hold your ground)
We're safe and sound (safe and sound)

I could show you love
In a tidal wave of mystery
You'll still be standing next to me

You could be my luck
Even if we're six feet underground
I know that we'll be safe and sound
We're safe and sound

I could lift you up
I could show you what you want to see
And take you where you want to be

You could be my luck
Even if the sky is falling down
I know that we'll be safe and sound

I could lift you up
I could show you what you want to see
And take you where you want to be

You could be my luck
Even if the sky is falling down
I know that we'll be safe and sound
We're safe and sound
We're safe and sound
We're safe and sound

We're safe and sound (safe and sound)
We're safe and sound (safe and sound)
We're safe and sound (Hold your ground)
We're safe and sound (safe and sound) We're safe and sound

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Ryan Merchant / Sebu Simonian

Safe And Sound lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Head Lights

2019-06-29T14:12:00.000-06:00

Infused with a fury

Of life long gone

She stands at the edge

Violets withering away

Oceans brim with life

Unsure if she'll stay

Still, she remains

Eyes lit ablaze

Holding her heart

Containing the flames

She writes in her head

She blinks, and it's gone

Away go the harps

Away go the songs

"Withered Violets" - Andreea Istrate

A Perceptible Abstract

2019-05-26T20:31:00.000-06:00

The pages of The Secret Speech begin with the imminent destruction of a church in Moscow. I don't yet know the context behind this. The first characters are apprehensive, conflicted, and have no way out of participating and witnessing the event. The crowds in the area have a different notion.

As I do when reading - I interrupted myself with thought.

I pictured scenes from the Ireland, Middle East, Africa, and Selma, Alabama. Destroying areas of worship has a far more profound reach than neighborhoods and business districts - not in the loss of life, but rather a deep loss of self. As for the human population goes - we can create more, and we can rebuild. But, sacred areas can never be restored. Sacred spaces are one of a kind. Original. They are like Tibetan Sand Mandalas, the minutes ticking by - all of which will never exist and be experienced again. No other human, nor sunrise or sunset will ever grace the walls - trees- sands and earth. It's a far more significant loss to the individual than it is to the whole of the group.

Well, that's enough ramblings for now. I return to page 5 and finish chapter one.

-- (c)deyanira.

Jesus on a Greyhound, Shelby Lynne

I was on my way to somewhere to the Mexicali sand
A man sat down beside me, he had scars upon his hands
He told me some stories - I told him some lies
Light shone through my darkness, cast shadows from my mind

His eyes they looked right through me
Oh I knew he carried weight
Something real was going down that day
Oh I told him I'm a sinner

He said that's o.k.
I'm not here to change you anyway
He was gone when I turned around
Was it Jesus - Jesus on a Greyhound

Oh we talked about the world gone bad
The troubles we had seen
We talked about the dirt
Brown shoes he wore on his feet

He said I'm tired and weary
I've been riding a long way
Let me rest my eyes now
Let me drift away

He acted Like he knew me
Then he fell asleep
I had no More secrets
I could keep

Oh I told him I'm a sinner
He said that's o.k.
I'm not here to change you anyway

He was gone when I turned around

Was it Jesus - Jesus on a Greyhound
And I'll rise again
Ain't no power on earth can keep me down

And I'll rise, I'll rise again
Oh ain't no death can keep me in the ground
Was that Jesus

Songwriters: Glen Ballard / Shelby Lynne

Jesus on a Greyhound lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., The Bicycle Music Company

Unearthed

2019-05-12T12:21:00.000-06:00

Can't be afraid of who you are
Who sees
Who knows
You'll suffocate in the despair
Tucked away in a jar
Impossible to please
Easiest to grow
Steady
And, ready
Away from Him
Almost gone, the weeds are
Seeds planted, and life emerges
Breaking through
Breathing air
Clean and quiet

Can't be afraid of who I am
You see
You know
I no longer suffocate with despair
Almost, empty the jar

#unedited #writingsprint #unpolished

-- (c)deyanira.

Read All About It, Part III - Emeli Sande

You've got the words to change a nation
But you're biting your tongue
You've spent a life time stuck in silence
Afraid you'll say something wrong
If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?

So come on, come on
Come on, come on
You've got a heart as loud as lightning
So why let your voice be tamed?
Maybe we're a little different
There's no need to be ashamed
You've got the light to fight the shadows
So stop hiding it away
Come on, come on

I wanna sing, I wanna shout
I wanna scream 'til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers,
I'm not afraid
They can read all about it
Read all about it, oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh

At night we're waking up the neighbors
While we sing away the blues
Making sure that we're remembered, yeah
'Cause we all matter too
If the truth has been forbidden
Then we're breaking all the rules

So come on, come on
Come on, come on,
Let's get the TV and the radio
To play our tune again
It's 'bout time we got some airplay of our version of events
There's no need to be afraid
I will sing with you my friend
Come on, come on

Yeah, we're all wonderful, wonderful people

So when did we all get so fearful?
Now we're finally finding our voices
So take a chance, come help me sing this
Yeah, we're all wonderful, wonderful people
So when did we all get so fearful?
And now we're finally finding our voices
Just take a chance, come help me sing this

Fading, Not Fast Enough

2019-04-07T16:30:00.000-06:00

He called. I didn't answer. He needs something from me. Looking out the window, an uneasy chill swells throughout my body reminding me I'm alive.

He's dissolving into the past, like this winter's melting snow. Except, he's still around like the iced over melt, every morning. I spent a few days looking over my shoulder.

Was he in town?
Is he watching?

I forget my fear until reminded; and, I tremble. I'm the first one to ask, "Why did you stay?" At the time, it wasn't that I forgot he stole my breath one night. He insisted I not linger on the memory. The act. The betrayal and danger he's made of. Instead, he used a steady stream of wine and cheese, perfectly seared steaks, and episodes of 'Vikings' to convince me it didn't happen. His survival method is insidiously quiet and devastating.

Writing helps as you know. I filter through the noise made up of emotions. I cleanse and purge the tar the memories of him are (and there are many). The words will pour out until the cauldron is empty. Sorry, friends. Who the hell is this for, anyway? Certainly, not for you.

// Trainwreck by Banks

Hey
I heard it from the state
They told me you were never gonna let me get away
And if you tell me fiction, you will never get me back
I had to get away, I had to get away, ay, ay
Hey
You try to compensate
You thinking with your one brain, watch you decapitate
You show me all your letters and I should've confiscated
Put my eyes away, and I had to get away

Talking to ears that have been deaf for as long as I can remember
A self-medicated handicap so I speak to myself
And I try so hard to get his stupid deaf ears to hear
That have become illiterate, I've become dumb
Hey, hey, hey

When I'd come through
You were dark blue
And I saved you
From your darker days
Born to
Take care of you
Oh, I thought so
Baby, it was just a phase

Hey
I heard it from the state
They told me you were never gonna let me get away
And if you tell me fiction, you will never get me backI had to get away, I had to get away, I had to get away
Hey
You try to compensate
You thinking with your one brain, watch you decapitate
You show me all your letters and I should've confiscated
Put my eyes away, and I had to get away

Shut down by a guy I never wanted to kiss
Not gonna hear this singing of this ringing triumph thing
And I'm chugging along in a train
And I'm heading the wrong way, and I'm a trainwreck
And my heart goes beat, beat, beat to the music of this sad same song
It's quite depressing, there's no fixing to the problem
When you're talking to an idiot

When I'd come through
You were dark blue
And I saved you
From your darker days
Born to
Take care of you
Oh, I thought so
Baby, it was just a phase
Saving
Only made me
Just a dreamer
But I soon found out
That the traintracks
Were behind me
Tried to warn me
Oh, but my ears went out

When I'd come through
You were dark blue
And I saved you
From your darker days
Born to
Take care of you
Oh, I thought so
Baby, it was just a phase

Hey
I heard it from the state
They told me you were never gonna let me get away
And if you tell me fiction, you will never get me back
I had to get away, I had to get away, I had to get away
Hey
You try to compensate
You thinking with your one brain, watch you decapitate
You show me all your letters and I should've confiscated
Put my eyes away, and I had to get away

Songwriters: Dacoury Natche / Jesse Rogg / Aron Forbes / Jillian Banks / Tim Anderson

Trainwreck lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

Passing By

2019-02-25T03:02:00.001-07:00

On a snow-covered street, I drive along passing snow-covered car after another. The neighborhood is quiet. Still. The SUV ahead of me slowly pulls off to the right side. I'm several car links behind. The vehicle stops as if to make a U-turn. I veer as far left as I can fully on the wrong side of the road. As I pass by, a man reaches out of his vehicles' window and proceeds to flip me the bird. So vehemently, I could see he really meant it when our eyes locked. His expression was one of anger.

"Driving along in my automobile."

I wondered if he was gesturing to someone else on the other side of the road. I watched through the rearview the vehicle remained parked, for a bit then moved forward at a slow pace. I pulled into my driveway, stayed in my car to watch him go by. The man honked his horn in a continuous tone until the end of the road.

What happened to you, today?

Not Today

2019-02-22T22:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when they leave you they don't say why.

Laughter is silenced.
Trust fades.
All the while lies swirl with the wind.
Sometimes, opposing forces take a toll.
But, mostly rumors get started by the jealous people.

When Good Things Happen, Bad Things Follow

2019-02-11T23:14:00.001-07:00

To write through it is to face it.
I'm not so sure I'm doing that.
In fact, I don't look at it at all.
I won't acknowledge the view through the looking glass.

All my words are tainted with his violence and disregard.

No poem without sadness and shame exists.
No story without anger and fury can I write.

All I know is when good things happen, bad things follow. -- (c)deyanira.

Défi

2019-01-26T20:42:00.001-07:00

Hello. It's been a while. How are you?

Snow has barely fallen. Ice remains. Little Louie grows livelier every day. He's a smart one with innocent eyes. A kind face and curious expression.

I missed critical foundational moments early on. It's crucial, in the development of any species, to be present in the early days and weeks. You only have one chance to make your mark. After that, it's a bit of an uphill battle to gain back what you've lost. So, that is where I am with Louie.

It's nothing I can't handle or work with. However, I am complaining. The plan, I set out for Louie didn't happen. Complaining will not change that. Only accepting the challenge will. That is the lesson, friends.

"Challenges" at Despair.com

Silence (an unfinished poem)

2018-12-25T09:12:00.002-07:00

This one isn't quite finished; but I like it. What do you think? Do you see or hear anything in these words? This one isn't meant to rhyme, but I hear a certain cadence I can't get to flow all the way through. I describe what silence sounds like to me.

Silence is the loudest.

It trickles and chimes.

Collides and explodes.

At night.

And the day.

While watching a show.

Enjoy the Silence

Silence increases.

Then decreases.

Having a mind of its own.

Headphones and music do nothing to quell.

Frenzied crickets.

Crashing glass.

Imagine the atoms splitting and screaming.

And air making music all while it falls.

Dark Lights

2018-11-23T23:03:00.001-07:00

A large truck with double headlights followed me home tonight.

Two or three years ago my Ex, replaced my headlights with brighter ones. No complaint on my part as I could see more road and appreciated the gesture. However, driving after sundown is a hit or miss situation of which drivers my bright lights will offend. The flickering of their headlights as they approach and pass me is a clear indication.

"There is nothing I can do," I say to them with my mind. I'm sure all consider me a rude driver, and this embarrasses me. Tonight is the first time a driver turned around and followed me with high beams deliberately. For several residential blocks along Broadway, we traveled the same direction. At last the driver turned off the road just before the capital building. But, I saw the hesitation at the stop sign.

Headlights in the Dark

Thinking to myself, "Well, I guess they finally decided I've learned my lesson, they've gone their merry way." I did look back to get a better look - it appeared white or gray in color. This was when I began thinking of all the ways human interactions go wrong. Of all the encounters I've had with strangers that could have ended badly. Typical fears crossed my mind: rape, murder, injury... I was reminded of the dangers of the world. I'm a woman, and all sorts of things go along with that. I shrug it off and continue towards my neighborhood.

Turning on the main road towards home, guess who is driving up the way. *sigh* At the sight of my beautiful bright lights, the large truck with double headlights slows down and almost comes to a complete stop. Then hastily makes a turn - onto my street. Great.

I suppose I could have (should have) driven to the gas station and create distance, but instead turned and was now following it. The truck slowed down, then picked up speed, and slowed down again and quickly parked in an open space along my block just a few houses away from mine.

Safety protocols indicate NOT to drive home. Safety protocols also suggest making eye contact with your potential threat. So I did. I drove past and parked at home (I have a healing kitten to look after). I got out of my truck and made sure the large truck with the double high beam headlights saw me seeing it.

It's not the first time I've had to do that. Strangely the first time it happened, while walking Mick, on a snowy night - it too, was a white or gray truck. I'll admit to hiding behind a tree until I gathered my courage to cross the street, make eye contact and quickly walk back to my apartment.

Not everything is dangerous to all.

Yet, some dangers are unique to some.

Stay safe my friends.

What if, I know

2018-11-12T23:18:00.001-07:00

I no longer think, “What if?”

- I am not good enough

- I fail

- I can’t

- ______

I think, “I know.”

- I am good enough

- I won’t fail

- I can

- ______

Significant, this shift is.

Imagine, if you will. The window shades are open, and the light flows in. Early morning rain freshens the air. Hair untied. Relaxed. Full breaths. These are my days now. Don’t be jealous. It’s a little eerie.

"A Little Brain Twist" via Imgur

Growth presented unexpectedly.

Streaming Water

2018-11-10T23:20:00.001-07:00

This year, like this time last, words were not typed on the daily, as the participating group expects. I’ve learned a few things about my writing habits. Typically, I produce work when it is unexpected - my best work. The excitement around NaNoWriMo in November is infectious, and I’m happy to join others around the world. But, I wonder why I just don’t write to write it down.

Perhaps I write because I forget memories. Maybe, this is not meant to be read by others. When I think of writers, the classical ones, their lives are rich with thought and expression. They experience turmoil and deep connection (or, disconnect) with life and living. They draw from it and keep on until all sides of their stories burning within are exposed.

I’ve done the thing. Thought upon thoughts emersed by scattered ideas. Only to make known a small percentage of what burns within. It’s water through my fingers. I see water, I feel the water, but I cannot hold the water. I cannot reshape it. I lose sight and am confused by the rapid, fragmented string of words.

I regret all that I did for love. Things never done before and likely will never do again. He hindered, caused me to doubt my uniqueness and power, needed me small at his side. He is a tornado. Exciting and destructive. In the middle of his roar and thunder, there is a single pocket of bright, beautiful calm. He’s the loneliest person I’ve ever known. He’ll break you so that he isn’t alone.

I’m torn between him leaving and disappearing across state lines, deep into international waters never to be heard or seen from again, or seek justice and impose the punishment he’s earned. I don’t know which is better or worse to know or not know where he is all of the time. I’m in danger of his explosive and quiet violence, either way.

A lesson I learned long before he crossed my path is that love, pain, anger, and everything else is felt until it is not. No timetable exists. No end in sight until you reach it. And, there is no escaping. There is only living through it. Embracing the scars as evidence of life.

A performance against domestic violence.

Patience, Just a Little

2018-11-09T22:22:00.000-07:00

Of all the virtues patience is the bee's knees. Stitch after stitch I pull the yarn through. Sometimes I even undo. Row after row the crocheted yarn grows. Crochet is like riding a bike, in that you don't entirely forget what you learned. When I started up again, about a month or so ago, I had difficulty holding the needle. My fingers were clumsy and yard easily tangled. I bought two small rolls of yarn. One pink and one grey. Those mini projects turned into a square, a rectangle, and a wheel.

Patience is the only word on my mind while I crochet. Calmly. During my pre-teen years and early 20's, I had little patience to finish a project. I felt that if I couldn't get it right the first time it meant I wasn't good at it. So...why bother doing it. I wore a self-defeating mindset back then. Well, most of my life. Up until a few years ago, patience wasn't a virtue I spent time on.

I learned the value of patience during my work with Mick. A shelter dog assigned to me to foster, train, and learn from. Everyone that knows me here knows about Mick. I really cannot stop talking about him. I try to hold back (I really do). But, ... I'm proud of him. I'm proud of me.

"Patience" performed by Guns N' Roses

My Maddness

2018-11-03T23:52:00.002-06:00

Image Source

Most appropriate, this image, for this moment that I'm suddenly unable to write all that is in my head. Every November, it's the same.

I'm at the starting line with all the other participants around the world. The starter gun is in the air.

I'm excited. Then, after the shot - the ringing bell, the air horns... silence. Silence in my head. The space filled with lines, phrases, gets all choked up. They won't come out. They won't be seen. They just refuse to participate. It's an anxious-ridden time for me and so many others.

This time of the year, we're all working on something at the same time, together but apart. Apart but together. Our daily goals met or not met, our motivation keeps going or gives out.

This is NaNoWriMo, people.

Crisp

2018-10-28T19:09:00.001-06:00

Photo Credit: (c)deyanira.

The snow hasn't fallen yet - not really. A few weeks ago the skies teased us with a taste of an early Winter, but it soon morphed into lovely Fall days. Leave are everywhere. It's colorful along all the neighborhood streets. When parking along a curb, I can hear the crunch of the dry leaves which is as satisfying as a potato chip.

Untitled Cross-Over

2018-10-21T23:02:00.002-06:00

My favorite poem of all time has just eight lines. It is filled with expectation, grief, and anxiety. I memorized it immediately and connected to the illustration. I thought about it again. Recited the lines--well, four of them and it made me think.

We don't get what we want. EVER. We get the result of what we do. ALWAYS.

Sometimes, we want a thing so badly we do whatever we think it takes to get it. The cost is irrelevant because all we see and experience is the void we desperately work to fill. It is a kind of downfall, I think now. To try so hard to be someone we aren't. To try so hard to attract the people with think we are supposed to be surrounded by. To [work] so hard not to see ourselves for who we are: hurt, broken, healing, healed, unsure, able, confident, scared...

We are our worst enemy.We are our worst critic.We are the only ones that can really hurt us.

I am struggling to understand how he is more damaged than me. How his pain runs deeper than mine. How, despite the similarities in circumstances, he is struggling to find peace within himself. I refuse to accept he is beyond growth and healing.

Do you hear that? Compassion. Still.

-- (c)deyanira.

"What a Day" written by Shel Silverstein // image found on Pinterest

// "Oh, What a Day" originally posted, here.

Dear Reader,

I meant to tell you about today. I can't articulate; it's all just a bunch of confusing emotions. I hope you found this cross-post thought-provoking. It's from the other blog, the one that is all about Him. Anyway, these words are fitting today.

-dv-

Beat Your Own Drum

2018-10-18T21:43:00.003-06:00

I can't get the words out of my head. They've been rattling around all day it seems. This song appears in the movie The Greatest Showman. I haven't seen it yet (to the dismay of friends). When Kesha stopped making music, it was because she was caught in an abusive relationship. She made an attempt to leave, and he held her career hostage. She was mishandled and mistreated by a man she once trusted.

Her music now speaks of growth, transformation, survival, acceptance, and new inner joy and peace. Coming forward to the public and placing herself on center stage is more than just brave. It's a love and respect for herself and what she's endured. The best lessons we learn are from witnessing vulnerability of others.

At the center of that vulnerability, we find our greatest strength.

Don't shy away, dear reader. Don't hide.

"I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I'm meant to be, this is me
Look out 'cause here I come
And I'm marching on the beat I drum
I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me"

// "This is Me" by Kesha

Jelly Fish

2018-10-14T21:24:00.001-06:00

Surrounded by two dogs, four chickens, one cat, three horses, and a hidden mouse, I sit in silence. Well, almost. My "thumbs up" curated playlist with a variety of musicians and sounds lulls the animals to sleep.

The dark cloud overhead is moving away despite the nested nightmares. Of us arguing, of me seeing the real you, of you in the kitchen cooking. She lays on the couch in stockings clicking away on an iPhone watching us. Faced with my knowledge of the truth you continue to fry bacon. Why are you in the kitchen? Why the hell am I there? And, can she please put on some pants. Does she even know all those you hide? You'll hurt her too. You know that better than I. Your cruelty has no limit, in what way did I ~~insult~~ offend you to receive what I did from you?

"Twin Flame" (2017)

This dream is about accepting what I've known throughout. You too easily gave her up early on. You too easily agreed with my requests. You too easily said Yes to me. My mistake and only mistake is to trust you. If only I could take all that time back. All the energy and wasted emotion. I could then erase the tears and finally, finally scream.

It weighs on me still, the nothing you turned out to be. An encrusted shell you surround yourself with glistens in the moonlight. The sun turned enemy shows off the zirconias and not the diamonds you pretend to hold. She's too young to know the difference. And, suddenly I understand the appeal. The need you have to not be seen. She doesn't know you like I do. A part of me hopes she never will.

#SurvivedHim

// *By the Horns* by Julia Stone

Write it Out

2018-10-12T21:34:00.001-06:00

Syndrome

2018-10-12T01:01:00.002-06:00

Take a look at this list. I typed "constantly changing" into the search field in hopes of finding something on a person's need to continually change aesthetics. It's comprehensive, this list is. It covers all the necessary things we're interested in our lives: ourselves and others.

Photo Credit: (c)deyanria.

I never did find what I meant to: an answer to my constant need to continue to change this website. Template after template, fonts, color schemes, and other tweaks. Too much self-editing.

Giving too much and not enough - story of my life. I give people more than they need. Holding back seems, well, it's forced. I wasn't taught to be selective. I wasn't taught self-preservation. I was given examples of how to hide one's true self. It's much more work to do that than it is to give what I think you need. At least, that's how I see it: pretending.

Don't get me wrong playing pretends was my favorite game as a kid. So much imagination goes into that. You never know how the story is gonna' go until you're right there making the decisions and bouncing ideas off each other. Remember how fun that was?

If you're still wondering about the title of this post...read the first search query. I read that as syndrome not synonym. For a quarter of a split second, I found what I was looking for. Yep. I did click on it. If you're laughing, worry not. You laugh with me not at me.

// This late night post may not make sense tomorrow morning.

Sorry about that.

Dreams and Snow Fall

2018-10-10T22:39:00.000-06:00

The day began on the sidewalk. Standing under the powdered snow canopy of a mature tree I saw 3 deer poke their heads out from behind tall bushes. They eyed me but were far more interested in the small dog heading their way. The human handler almost made the mistake of following his dog. Glad he slowed down and waited for the deer to make their move. It's best not to frighten them by walking right into them.

Photo Credit: (c)deyanira.

Somewhere in the middle of the morning's deer sighting and rescue from leaving my keys hanging off the key rack, I found my smile. I can only laugh at myself for having to stand at the driveway for twenty minutes. I'm in good spirits these days waking from dreams never before had.

Not to everyone, but for some, remembered dreams illustrate parallels of waking life. I've written about mine before. Not just descriptions but discussing the odd connections and surprising insight. Food has made a reappearance. Nourishment.

A typical food dream, for me, is walking the halls of grocery stores taking stock of the abundance of cheeses, fruit, and bags of potato chips. I don't eat any of it. I can't access it. At the register, the cart filled with food is left behind. I walk across parking lots empty-handed. A common interpretation of the appearance of food is that consuming it is to nourish oneself. If you can't eat in your dream, you are unable to "take care" of yourself in the waking world. There is something in your life that you are unable to nourish, like your heart, mind, soul, body.

Five days ago, I awoke having dreamed of stuffing so much food in my mouth that I couldn't chew! But, that didn't stop me from eating and eating and eating. First time ever. This is a big deal. This aligns perfectly with the state of things in my waking world. There is a sense of stability. Of groundedness. Direction. Calm. This is no coincidence, people.

On this Wednesday, #WindowWednesday in some internet circles, I submit a photo taken within the last week. Nothing but raindrops to wash away all the burdens. There are enough drops for everyone.

This day ends with a strange sense of accomplishment.

Fear Not

2018-10-08T14:19:00.001-06:00

We can't be afraid of what we hold inside. Our minds. Our hearts. We carry all that is the Universe. The past. The future. The every day. The light. The dark. You are the culmination of every person that lived and died before you. You are the catalyst of the next generation of people that will carry you all through their lives. We never really die - just cease to exist.

I wrote a bad poem, as bad poems go. Won't be the last and certainly not the first. I'm good at 'em. They take time. They're not easy. Challenging as they are, I love to write 'em.

Rain falls.
Leaves fell.
Snow floats to the ground.
I think I may, I think I might run down these halls.
Holding secrets I'll never tell.

You seek me. But, I hide in a place that can't be found.

This Hubble Telescope image is known as the Galaxy Cluster Abell 370. It's quickly become a favorite because of the tail-like or snake-like star field in the center. If you can, zoom in and take a look. It's fascinating.

You can download this photo, here. Also, on the same page, read about the BUFFALO program. This is helping Hubble capture an even wider range.

Galaxy Cluster Abell 370
September 13, 2018
copyright

The Leaves are Turning

2018-10-01T02:14:00.002-06:00

I read today. At the hair salon. Under the heat-helmet contraption. Why is this worthy of a post, or merit delivery into your inbox, you ask? Well, I focused. Read every word without distraction. The ADHD-like and hyper-depressive mood swings I've experienced, since this time last year, are dissipating. Finally. Relief. Balance. Calm.

Artist Unknown

My fingers are crossed. This week has the potential for bright productivity. More appropriate interactions with others. And, remember those interactions clearly, like what I said and who I said it to.

A girl can dream. So, I do.

I'd like to share, my kitten King Leonidas George Muffin, but we call him Roman for short, the First, is behaving oddly. He's low energy. A bit droopy. He drapes himself across my lap or my chest. If I move, he doesn't. This is the most noticeable change. Months past, he'd jump and run away. He waits, instead lets me pick him up without protest. I have no explanation. Initially, I could say the foster cats affected his behavior. I could even go as far as Roman feeling a bit left out or pushed aside by the temporary arrangement.

I enjoy the extra cuddle time, but not if he's suffering from lethargy. A visit to the fur-baby doctor is around the corner.

Roman, circa 2017
(c)deyanira.