Indestructible

This is a story of a girl who wanted nothing else but to be alive. She lived in a deep dark hole, a cave which occasionally was graced by the chief source of life. She was cold and she was sad. She was angry and she was trapped. There was no way out, only a downward spiral and the hard concrete floor. She did find it, the floor. It wasn't pretty. The fall was not graceful. There was very little grace to begin with in her demeanor. Her hell was great. Her pain felt real. And the dark cloud up above seemed to never go away. 

This is a story of a girl who wanted nothing else but to feel alive. It is said that dreams do come true and miracles are to be expected. While hope is all that seems to never dissolve, no dream and no miracle were about to show up at any door. And just as she threw her arms up in the air, the cloud parted, the ray of sun gently opened her eyes, and she began to work. 

This is a story of a girl who wanted nothing else but to become alive. Life had other plans for her, for she didn't become alive. She became life. She is more than alive, she feels more than alive. She simply is life. And when they come, they want to taste it. And when they watch, they want to embrace it. And sometimes, they don't know what to do with her, and so they run and they blame and they damage and they maim. 

This is a story of a girl who now wants nothing else but to shine like the brightest star, because there is nothing else to do but to glow, and there is nothing else but to grow, and there is nothing else that can be said about the voice outside the head. It's a voice of freedom. It's a voice of laughter. It's a voice of gladness, and.... ever-after. 

Brave

I knock on wood and say a prayer
Before the dive into your care
Your arms are warm and heart so full
How am I to give back to you?

The fear grows as my need expands
Deep down I know, I will be changed.
I touch my heart and kiss His cross
And take a leap across the threshold

Your arms are warm and heart so full
My only hope I am enough to hold all of you.

Without You

The woodpeckers are back.
And you? You are not...

The bare trunks of leafy trees,
The scared man on bended knees.

The crescent moon 
In shape of spoon,
Or is it a smile 
Behind the gloom?

It matters not what the winds have blown in.
It matters not what the cats have dragged in.

It's just that the birds are pecking again.
But you are away and the scene's not the same.

It's Time

Forcing, pushing, pulling. This is the way of our world. Little cough? Here is a drug. Doesn't work? Here is another drug. Why? Because you have to get well now. There is no time to heal, must get on with it. Tired? Have a coffee. Doesn't work? Here is a Red Bull. Why? Because you have to keep going, the work never ends. The deadlines await. Go! Run! Sprint! Must get there! 

Don't you know the mind does better in a relaxed state? Don't you know a little rest and a little laughter makes the body let go of the illness and the fatigue and become alive again? Don't you know you cannot add to that which is already full? Don't you know that there is no need to rush to a destination that has no real value in the end? Don't you know that the rain falls when it's time and stops when it's time? 

Can we have a little more patience and a little more compassion and a little more fun while we go through this maze we have found ourselves in? We can push ahead through all of our lives while losing our life. Because life doesn't happen in our minds. Because life happens in our being and us being a being. 

Beware

They keep a-coming,
They keep a-flocking,
They keep a-flying
Into the light.

They keep a-burning,
They keep a-blaming,
They keep a-blowing
The candle out.

The rare glimpse of what could be,
The rare sight of clarity,
The rare hope that draws them in,
Their fear greater than all sin.

Be careful, dears
And please observe:
The gain is great
And loss? Beyond hurt.

This Town

I went away. It could have been for a minute or a lifetime. Time is irrelevant. Upon my return, she welcomed me, as if I've been here forever. Seamless entry back into her arms and her house where many guests are ready to include yet another. A magical place to be experienced again and again, like it's my first and a millionth time all at once. I tell you, time is irrelevant here. It has been, is, and will be home.

"Better to Give?" Part II

Having rudimentarily explained my views on the subject of giving and receiving, I will continue a bit further into the impenetrable depths of human relationships. Such a subject, I am slightly overwhelmed by it myself despite bringing it up under my own volition!

Giving is an active gesture. Receiving appears as an inactive state. Giving is an action. It is done. Receiving is a state. It is a state of being. For one to be, (s)he must be still. Must be free. Must have space. A jammed closet cannot hold any more boxes. A jam-packed one can only collect dust, as nothing in it has the capacity to move or room to expand.

For one to be able to give, (s)he must have something to offer. An empty refrigerator cannot feed a single soul and the last crumb has been eaten by ants long ago.

This is where the interaction between the two people in a relationship can become a thing of beauty, a never-ending exchange in a form of a dance. And what serves as the music to which both are moving to? Well, that is the deep understanding of such an interplay. 

And so the dance is on: one invites, the other accepts. One gives, the other receives. One is full, the other collects. The giver and the receiver roles reverse, and the flow is on. The conversation is on. Both the doing and the being are ignited and remain lit, switching between the two as needed to remain connected. To remain of service. To remain mutually fulfilled.

As so blatantly stated in the previous entry, I, once again, would like to acknowledge the beauty and the useful nature of the giving and the receiving, of the masculine and the feminine, of a man and a woman. May we appreciate each other.

"Better to Give?" Part I

"It is better to give than to receive." I'll just start without any pretense and state that, as many a character in Jane Austen's novels would say: "I have an objection!" Actually, more than a single one.

As experience tells me, it feels better to give than to receive. And, as numerous other authors have pointed out, giving cannot take place unless there is a receiver on the other end. Feeling better about giving does not equate with it being "better" than receiving. In fact, the ability to receive, gracefully and gratefully, is a much more difficult task.

Just in case there is any confusion of terms and definitions, I will clarify that receiving is not taking. The former being a passive state and the latter, an aggressive one. Passive also does not mean submissive. It means being open and being ready. A passive state is like a bowl: an empty space ready to be filled and hold the newly placed contents. It serves a purpose. An important one at that.

And so it seems to this eye that either the original phrase is not really "the" original and it was modified to fit someone else's idea of morality and control, or whoever wrote it down has missed half of the reality. Either way, I hope to decipher the myth of good vs. evil and give credit to all that exists, to both sides of the coin, to all duality that is this existence.

Anew

Please stop and look at your condition
Appearing wrongly as nutrition.
You go in circles without admission.
Not to know better is a sad position.

Jump off this train that takes you spinning.
Unload the bags that've kept you dizzy.
Look for the ship that sails with meaning.
Pack up your toothbrush and set off beaming. 

The bumpy ride will do a number.
You'll be knocked off and and down under.
You will scream mercy and merge with wonder.
A new beginning you will be 
And rhyme with life so gracefully.

Come...

I wish you'd fall
Into my arms.
I'd take you down
Into the sun.
Or is it moon?
Or maybe stars?
Or maybe everything at once.

You must first melt
Before you rise
To all you have
Inside your heart.
I'll take you there
Through thick and thin.
Take off your armor
Let us begin.

An Affair?

I speak of things I know not
I write of things I know now.

The music soars and I comply,
As winter's night slides quickly by.

And when it's time, I will be yours,
Yet when you leave, I will rejoice
For having shared what came with you:
The beauty, love, and dreams as truths.

Short and Sweet

The greatest gift a man has is his ability to surrender. Find a way, and life is a simple negotiation around big boulders and small pebbles.

Fifth in the F-Series

She doesn't appear threatening. Her demeanor is one of ease and lightness. Eyes bright, face glowing. Charming. Enchanting. And something else. Something not easily named, except it pulls him in faster than a rollercoaster. He feels the usually predictable solid ground move under his paralyzed feet, pulling him off-balance. Out of control, beyond all volition, he is falling. Off his axis toward the unknown and the untouched. She is standing. Open and alert, in all her glory. And run away is all he can do to stay afloat. He has met his match. With one difference. Her power doesn't control, doesn't intimidate, doesn't dominate. It simply melts you down to your core until you stand naked before her with nothing to do and nothing to say, and the question that cannot leave  you alone is "who is she?"

Start Walking!

The road may be less traveled. The road might be without a definite direction. It very well could form a meandering trajectory. For all its uncertainties, this road is not bound by anything! It can be shaped or molded in any way and re-shaped and re-molded at any time. Its design is ever-changing, ever-expanding, ever-growing into something fully alive. Unlike the worn-out road, though easy and comfortable, largely unfulfilling it can be. 

The fear such a novel path evokes is just the traveller's own projection of uncertainties and a lack of vision. The road itself, though appearing to be daunting, can become a road to something that hasn't yet been. One foot in front of the other is all that's required while the eyes are looking for signs of direction, and the hands are molding the terrain. The sky is the limit, not the fear. 

A to Z

Nothing and everything.
Zero and infinity.
Moving closer and farther away.
The race is on in one giant circle.
Leaving home just to return to it
In a day or a lifetime.
No guarantees about tomorrow,
As there is no such thing.
The breath is here and now, only now.
The taste of nothing and everything.
The pen is moving quickly while the impatient mind scurries it along and the words... They just keep arising out of nothing into infinite interpretations.
The reader has a choice in all his matters,
If only the experience of nothingness were to overwhelm the experiencer. Until all is clear. And all you can really do is glide along in the effortless flow, bathed in the warmth of and swallowed by the abyss.