Where we Stand

Are we living in a dream? Is this a parody of lives past? Some days this world seems like the stuff of nightmares. Some days I think we’ve made progress. Others I think we’ve just exchanged one form of suffering for another.

Are we stuck? Vulnerable to systematic subjugation? To a deniability of the humanity that we are all comprised of? This dark dismissal of what makes us human? How little needs to be seen, noticed and noted to affect change around us. What possibilities could be unearthed and created if a little more time and effort was devoted to humanity. What are we capable of? Are we this soul severed from the connective tissue of our core life force? What exactly does thriving mean? Is existence resigned to a constant reel of overplayed stagnation and suffering? Are we victims of politics, systems, policies and excuses? Rules or lies?

Why are our champions and advocates the ones who’ve suffered often times? Are onlookers so remiss? Who are the onlookers? What will it take to unlock the frozen state of apathy running rampant around the globe? It doesn’t take that much of a lengthy glance around to find suffering in the world. It’s easy to encounter binging on self satisfying inner statements of willful blindness. People who have suffered are often times the ones fighting to change the system. To change the world. They are the ones that should be protected. Instead they move about, navigating their pain and attempting to find ways to better life for themselves and others. To bring meaning to their pain and to hopefully change something for someone else. Because suffering like all other human emotions, is universal.

How many times have the words “that’s just the way it is” been uttered over the course of human existence. I’ve stared, blankly, at these types of responses. Felt the rage well up in me.  Sickened that the suffering of another human being could be idly dismissed. No second thought given. It’s just another day in the world. Just another problem to be rid of. How many times has denial and escape caused suffering? Change comes from sensibility. From the emergence of human spirit screaming into sight. It takes a soul that has become incensed, disgusted or carved in pain. Someone and someone’s who have fallen to their knees and known what the excruciating discovery of pain feels like. Bystanders can look on. But those hurting feel it through their bones in truth. Have we not all experienced pain? Suffering so deep and raw. What makes this so avoidable that we are unable to find some way, in all of the darkness, to shed some light on one another? Is it not discouraging or disheartening to know that at the core of our humanness we could do better?  With a little more effort, things could be different? Humans have made advancements, but not quite enough. If we are the governing force that rules this planet then it stands to reason that we, are the ones in control. What exactly are we doing with our privilege? With our resources, in all aspects of our minds, bodies and spirits?

What prompted this avalanche? Many, many experiences. The taste of unfairness nestling me into uneasy places. Places that didn’t feel like freedom. There are so many moments that stand out. But recently I was scrolling through some youtube comments. They were listed beneath a touching piece of music I’d just come across. There was a poster commenting on suicide. This person went into a bit of detail about their current life situation. Several people replied. Offered advice. Offered their emails and contact info, reaching out to this individual. And as much as this seemingly small act of kindness was, it touched me. It was symbolic. Real or not, because that’s what the internet does, makes us cynical. It was a reminder. Do we hear enough about the good in the world? Are we encouraged to create more of it? To love and uplift one another more. Not with easy words. But with deeds. For the sake of relieving the suffering of another? Or simply because above all we’re all a part of one race. Humanity. That somewhere, somehow, wishing for better hasn’t been enough.

I wanted to start this off discussing kindness. Then compassion came to mind. I struggled to find adequate words to express the sentiment I wanted to convey. Then love came to mind. And I thought, how does the world receive love? How does it give it? Deep within it’s the basis for existence I would think. And yet, how is it being expressed towards our earth and all of it’s inhabitants? I know in spiritual corners you hear of healing, love and light. But do we wait on that light to do the work for us? Maybe we are that light. I know the human condition has been addressed time and again. And will continue to be. I think our new found alleged advancement needs to be used creatively. In every way possible in the servitude of good things. It’s so easy to spread what seems dark. To hear the noise of that through everything. And it shows. It shows in the way we live.



Strangers in The Room

I opened the door. A vibrant sky poured out. Molten lava bubbled from my throat, burning away the last of silence.

The night was dark. The sky filled with screaming winds. My body moved against and with the torrent of air. The ground  was scattered with leaves. The scent of fall welcomed my sense of freedom. I’d walked out the door and left every stagnant stale emotion behind. I ran. The wind hit me. Again, and again. I ran more. The rain hit my skin. My senses coaxed. Urging me to let go of the weight pushing down on me. Music played in my ears. I drifted. Dragging a corpse behind me. Waiting for the shadows to curl out from the dark. I wanted to confront them. Wanted them to speak out so I could stand, as I was with the wind rushing against me, with a smile on my face.

I was recently thrust back into childhood feelings. A nemesis, ie a villain in my childhood abuse story is likely on his death bed. If not now, it will be approaching. I thought I’d detached from most of the emotions of the past. I thought. It wasn’t so as all these anxious emotions rose to the surface. I battled. My mind tossed pros and cons in my direction. I was considering the feelings of someone that had never cared for mine. The monsters were let out to play again. And as usual I was blindly being sucked into the vortex of what I tried so hard to run from.

I had to ask myself where I begin and where they end. What did I want to do with the remnants of the buttons that were being pressed here. All of these knots in my my mind. My heart always conceded. In some form or another. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But when is the line crossed?  When do I stop sacrificing myself? Pretense is a ridiculous notion. It’s a nothingness giving way to more nothingness. Pretending to be anything other than the core of your truth is a certain death. A violent cancer that builds disaster. When do I stop playing “their” version of a character in that twisted story. Here was this frail sick man, and my compassion kicks in. The part of me that wants to make sure I’ve properly said my goodbyes. The loss and sadness. The part of me that acknowledged the wasting of human life and potential.  Yet another part of me struggled. We had nothing to say to one another. There was awkward silence between us in the hospital. And here I found myself waiting. Waiting on what? Change? I could tell him I love him. I could be decent and help with things and make it easier on the family. I considered that option. I considered doing as I always had and try to be understanding . It wasn’t working anymore. I found myself becoming anxious and enraged. Their true selves began to poke out at me through the thin veil of the sadness of the situation. These were still the same people that had never protected me or been there when I needed them. And I, after all these years have grown tired of being discarded. It was a complex road  to navigate for me. And so I pulled back. I had to decline some things. I said no for my sake. For my emotional, physical and mental well being. I don’t want regrets. I don’t want to feel I’ve been inhumane. And it’s a struggle because I know they will never acknowledge what was done. It will never see the light of day. So what is my presence going to change? I’ve had to come to terms with doing my best and being at peace with that. After all this time, it’s my well being that needs to take priority.

I’m still tangled inside with the situation. I can only hope for the best resolution possible of a murky past, while looking forward to the future. Meeting life with understanding and compassion where I can, and where I must, pull back and protect myself when no one else will.

And so I hit the road tonight. I ran. Trying to wash some of this frustration from my system. Deciding or attempting to reconcile these feelings that have to tried to eat me alive more often than I care to count. What I can do is stare them directly in the eye and create the best possible ending. I need to accept and acknowledge that there is only so much I should claim responsibility for and leave the rest to the fates to decide. You can’t change the mind of a corrupt heart. You shouldn’t stick around to play games with it either. But you can walk into the dark and make it a little less scary. Bring things to the surface in whatever way enables you to find your peace. No explanations are owed. In the end it’s ourselves we have to live with.



October is finally here. I’ve been waiting alongside all the autumn lovers I know. Fall has been a little finicky this year. But finally there is a bit of chill in the air as we wait on the season to take a deep breath, and let go of it’s wonder.

Spiraling magic sets a stage. Cozy comforts call to us. Beautiful hues glinting in the sunlight. The feeling of being tightly wrapped in homecoming. Autumn comes upon us with gentle rose gold kisses. Sunbeams caressing everything in sight. Cicadas chiming beneath the subtle glow.  I don’t know a better feeling than the magic autumn carries.  A nostalgic reminder of comfort and contentment. It’s a mystically choreographed time of year. A gorgeous blend of colors. Images. Scents. Warmth and connection. A bewitching breath upon creation.

Autumn is so very symbolic. Life falling away but doing it so very beautifully. Majestically interpreting life, offering it up for our senses. It quietly and hypnotically weaves enchantment. The sun is inviting. Delicate with it’s touch. The chill in the air devastatingly just right. Oppositely you have the wind and rain. They usher in a sense of power. A threshold awakening the next season to come. I stand in awe of it every year. It speaks. In such myriad ways. Nudging towards night, to the unfolding of winter and going within. Naked tree branches tell of change. Adorned in their bareness.

Nostalgia kindles within the red fiery foliage. Dips into the golds and oranges. Decoration and celebration build excitement. This love for the mischievous sentiment of Halloween. Tricks and treats. Welcomed shivering fear and supernatural anticipation. Glowing pumpkin faces against the backdrop of darkness. Witches. Specters. A cloud covered moon speaking quietly.  It’s always been a season with such an unspeakable draw. It brings with it so many beautiful ways to indulge our senses. It’s endless movement of the soul. Fascination.

Striking elements,  the windy rainy days speak for themselves.  The tempest winds blow through the trees. Leaves fall and spiral. Scatter through the air, with force and conviction. Strewn about to settle anywhere, and everywhere. A brilliant visual of chaos. Winding and mesmerizing. Autumn winds have the ability to reach within and change things. Sweep them away. It is power. But it carries something unspeakable. It stirs something otherworldly. The soul glides within it. Caught up in the spell, singing and sighing.

Lets not forget the allure of Pumpkin spice and everything nice. Pumpkin flavored and scented everything. The indulging aroma of it all.  Pure comfort is an art. Pull out some Candles. Warm your hands with mittens. Decorate. Remember comfy socks. Hoodies. Family. Nestled hugs. Firelight. Burning wood. Dark skies. Shorter days. Thick blankets. The sound of crunching leaves beneath your feet. Sipping a warm drink in the chilly air. Watching the steam rise like it has a secret it wants to impart. Quiet nights feel like hideaways. And scarves, hugging  you gently. There aren’t enough scarves to ever be tired of them.

Warm glowing lights in the distance beckon. They signal home. Twinkling in the early evening. A crow caws in the distance. And trees rustle. Like a finger reaching out in the shadows, smiling, night beckons. Evoking memories, prompting you to enjoy. Recollecting the romance and scenery, childhood memories and creature comforts. The imagination and spirit of it are endless. Priceless. Picture perfect.