He put his arm around my waist,
pulled me close,
and whispered the word ‘mine’.
I didn’t feel like an object,
I felt protected, loved.
Locked in his embrace,
I felt I was where I should be.
Unlike who I had been,
I let myself feel vulnerable.
I let him take control.
I let the strength of his embrace
assuage any fear I felt.
I just let him love me on his terms.
I curled into him,
and let everything else go.
Because, in that moment,
nothing else mattered.
You cried,
enduring pain for me,
loving me with never having met me
and I felt blessed.
You stood,
hands on your hips,
a whimsical smile on your face
and I felt anchored.
You embraced,
you wiped my tears,
you listened and never interrupted
and I felt understood.
You watched,
allowing me to make mistakes,
but always there to help me mend
and I felt empowered.
~
I cried
when you left me.
In a dream I saw you,
and watched you float.
You hovered,
our eyes met, you waved,
blew me a kiss
and fell into nothing but flowers.
Things have changed drastically since I was a young teenager propelling myself into the work force. I was a go-getter when I was young. I had procured my first job at the age of twelve by walking into the store, relatively well-dressed for a kid my age, and handed over a resume that I had proudly written in cursive. That piece of paper included absolutely no formal job experience besides babysitting but they could not resist my enthusiasm and my charm and I was hired on the spot to be a cashier and stock girl in a small, family run vegetable market.
Yesterday, I had cause to be at a job fair at the local high school. Without going into scandalous detail, the outfits and the lack of eye contact or direct communication was overwhelming. We did meet some wonderful candidates who presented themselves extremely well but the ones who stick out the most, sadly, are not the ones who inspired this post and, respectfully, they will not be the subject matter for the remainder of it.
Mumblers and those who completely avoided eye contact aside, I was impressed by the level of maturity shown by some of the students who stopped by our desk. They introduced themselves, some shook our hands and they asked questions about our lodge. Sure, some of the outfits were not truly conducive to obtaining gainful employment but I had to cut them some slack. They shuffled out of their high school classes because their attendance was required by the school. For those who took the fair a little more sincerely, they arrived with resumes in hand and fully willing to take the day seriously.
I still maintain a modicum of hope for the future generations. Notwithstanding the applicants who had their parents apply for them, I think we found some keepers!
Since turning thirty a number of years ago, I have really grown into a person that I am proud to be. I had spent many years before that x-mark on the calendar trying to be many things for many people and it was emotionally draining. I had put the small pieces of myself on a shelf and created a false picture based on fitting in the pieces that others had been trying to force into the frame of my puzzle. Not only had I done myself a grave injustice, but I tried to pass off a fake portrait as art.
Since that defining moment in my life, I have retrieved those small pieces of myself and worked steadily at rebuilding my own puzzle. Each piece now gently falls into place and I feel much more of a sense of accomplishment knowing that this puzzle is the one I should have been working on in the first place.
You are only a reflection of yourself and it is a defining moment when you can truly embrace the person you are and not the person who others think you should be. It was a hard road for me to follow but each step was worth the anguish, each misstep was worth the correction, and each failure was worth the lesson.
I used to deflect compliments, and sometimes old habits die hard, but now when I receive kind words I can truly take them to heart because those words reflect who I am to the core of my being. Now that I am being honest with myself, and just being myself, those words have greater meaning because they fall on the ears of the person I wished I had given myself permission to be so many years ago.
I have found love where I least expected to find it. It caught me off guard, rendered me helpless. I always thought I knew how true love would feel but this deep emotion is far greater than I anticipated.
I can stare at my new love without feeling the need to speak. I can touch my new love and feel the warmth being radiated. I was nervous to admit to myself that I had fallen hard, but I can’t fight a love like this.
I have no fear of being the crazy cat lady as I approach the impending new decade that lurks a few years around the corner. I will happily be the crazy crockpot lady. I had dinner cooking in this little gem last night as I busily chopped and prepared five more meals for my freezer. To say I am obsessed is an egregious choice of adjectives.
I do think that my circumstance could be much more dire than it currently is – not only have I found a love that shares my passion for food, but together we are helping people who can use a bit of a break.
When you find the right love, everything is a win-win.
My love,
I did not go gentle into that good night.
I lingered on the precipice,
holding tight to the memories of the warmth of my days.
My life played like a movie before my eyes,
and it was beautiful.
I couldn’t bear to leave you.
I raged against that white light and held fast to you.
I walk in your footsteps and hear all the words I should have been able to listen to,
words that should have fallen on my ears while you were in my arms.
I float on the words you speak to me, words you are unsure I hear.
I am still with you.
I am the air that dries your tears.
I am the breeze that tickles the wind chimes you love so much.
The sound of your laughter makes me feel alive again.
I did not go gentle into that good night.
I chose to stay with you.
***
There are several familiar expressions that humankind uses to describe the same outcome. Whether it be “Live by the sword, die by the sword” or “what goes around, comes around”, they converge on each other and intertwine to form a common thread that we all weave into our lives. That common thread is called Karma.
Karma is part of the law of “cause & effect” and it chooses how and when to seek its retribution or favor. It may come back to surprise you in a swift and effective charge, it may linger in the shadows and creep in when you least expect it, or, if you believe in reincarnation, it may make its presence known in your next lifetime. Regardless of when it chooses to expose itself, it will seek you out and place its law gently at your feet.
It can be calculating and manipulative or favorable when it wants to be, and the words used to describe it may best define the actions that led Karma to finding you in the first place.
Karma is not a superstitious hypothesis. I believe we each create our own luck, be it good or bad. Karma is energy, a life force that gains its momentum from the vibrations we put out into the world. And it is not just about negative energy and paybacks. Karma works just as well on the opposite side of the energy spectrum. Good deeds done selflessly tend to have Karma smile favorably upon us as opposed to hunting us like wounded prey and going in for the kill.
The Golden Rule, or as I discovered another name, The Ethic of Reciprocity – is this, do unto others as you would have done to you. It is such a simple string of words with such a profound outcome. And, as this is the year that I vowed to give back, I am putting my good karmic vibrations into the atmosphere and have been receiving those positive vibrations back in spades.
Karma has been very generous in its intention to show me that it appreciates my efforts. And I can only continue to grow my relationship with that Ethic of Reciprocity and hope that I can keep paying that generosity forward.
~~
A thousand tears have fallen
and saturated my face.
Keeping alive the memories
that time will never erase.
Salient thoughts burden my brain,
each with a life of their own,
keeping me close to my ardent emotion,
my sadness never far from home.
A rushing wave of sorrow,
an eclipse of what was good,
trying to find the buoy of happiness,
in the sea of misunderstood.
Embracing loss, moving on,
clinging to what I hold dear.
Knowing that the emotion I feel,
others keep just as near.
I cry a thousand tears,
knowing I am not alone,
and I hold tight to those who cry with me,
feeling that they are my home.
It was only a few short steps away. The bridge, the passage to a future that I had dreamed about for years, waited to carry me to the next stage. If only my legs had the resolve to take that first step.
On Friday night, I stared at this painting for a long time. It hangs in a conspicuous spot in a familiar room but I had never seen it before. Perhaps it was the shaded lighting of the late evening that made me study every detail in those brush strokes or, quite possibly, it was the collection of components in the painting that intrigued me, but every single item on that canvas made me linger and give it thought.
From the cracked tiled floor to the chance assortment of belongings, each item was distinct and gave me the feeling that any one of those things could feasibly represent a chapter in my life story. That thought made me stare even more as I tried to piece together the narrative that the artist was trying to communicate.
I got a strong sense of the feeling of wanting to stay connected. There is great comfort in keeping familiar things close. But there is also the fascination of what may exist beyond our comfort zone.
That open door is the focal point that grabbed and held my attention. In a room full of things seemingly collected on purpose, this door opened my curiosity. What magic or what memory lay beyond that partially opened portal? What is there to be found if we are brave enough to push it open all the way and take a chance on what is on the other side?
Sometimes being complacent with the things we have become accustomed to blinds us to what may lie just beyond the threshold of our comfort zone. Maybe the memorabilia in the foreground is meant to alleviate any pain while it draws us towards the next step.
There is a warmth in just having things fit into the right place and having that place feel like home. But maybe the real feeling of home is just a few steps away and we just have to walk through that door to discover the hidden treasures that await us if we are brave enough to explore the possibilities.
polysyllabic profundities 