Tumultuous thoughts rumbling in my head.
Physical body doing a frenzied hormonal dance.
Conversation, the little we have is strained and awkward.
I’m sending out weird vibes, I know, but I’m careless of their consequence.
I’m inwardly struggling to receive and accept what is occurring in my world, my spirit, my own body. Deal with your own shit dude!
I step outside to engage in the ridiculousness of smoking a cigarette.
I’m immediately welcomed by the birds, happily calling out in the mist. The chickens draw my attention next. All 14 hens have seen me and are squawking at the open end of the coop. I smile. Then my eyes are drawn to the plant on the table freshly showered with Summer rain. She’s perky and upright and I’m enamored by how much she’s grown since I transplanted her this Spring. Then the crickets chime in, even driving out the sound of the unit which just turned on. A cardinal flies out of the woods and flashes his red beauty. I breathe….content to be one with the earth again.
I am. I love. I am loved. Yes I am having a moment. Yet all is still well.
And so it is and so I let it be.
Grateful for my backyard sanctuary.
The thoughts and vibrations which bring fresh meaning to my
Today I’m wondering if those who have passed celebrate Birthdays. As we think about our loved ones, no longer able to blow out candles or receive our hugs; do they think about us? Do they check the clouds for Birthday wishes or regretful tears? Do they miss checking their mail or meeting friends for drinks? I know I’ve been thinking about Roger Senior, my boyfriend’s Dad, whom we dearly miss. My imagination floats to a much better place, one of peace, devoid of pain. Dad is at the Universal Birthday bash with every Birthday guy and gal born this day in eternities past. Music is floating throughout the galaxies composed by every Birthday musician. The notes so happy they vibrate on their own celestial frequency. Dancers dance. Artists paint. Writers write. All Birthday folk grateful to be their genuine selves, in a perpetual place of bliss. So, today Dad, on this your Birthday, thank you for the reminder to keep Happy in every day
Writing is my vehicle
taking me where ever I need to be.
It cleanses me like a car wash.
It rids me of burdens
as if going to the dump.
It flies me above present circumstances
allowing me to feel the warmth of the sun.
The click of the keys reminiscent of
climbing roller coaster rails
rising higher and higher.
My words building anticipation of what’s to come.
Yes! That works! Ha ha THAT is funny!
Click, click, tap, tap.
I am momentarily carried away in a frenzied chariot.
Rumbling onward towards my dreams.
Writing is my vehicle,
my transportation towards
a new world.
Lackluster, as if the lights have gone out.
Tired and zombie like
I drift through the day.
No reasonable cause cited
no recognizable end in sight.
Are there demons to be slain
or angels needing resurrection?
I know not
Wondering where have I gone
and when I’ll return
to some degree of momentum.
A sway in a breeze at least?
An upward turn in my straight line lips?
Is it my age? Hormones ceasing to rage?
Seasonal change, moon in wrong house??
BLAH, BLAH, BLAH
I really don’t care to delve.
No, I think a simple acknowledgement is all I can muster.
Multifaceted me in some sort of funk.
I will rise again this I know
But for now