The Child is poised
On the edge of an endless field
Crisp, tall grasses sway and wave
Cajoling the vivid wildflowers within.
The shy bright sprigs
Slide against the shifting sea of grasses,
And then coyly bend away
In the ruffling breeze.
The breathless wind skips over the tips,
The whispering is barely audible.
It teases the flora
And it teases the Child,
Tickling a place deep within that has no words or reason.
A child must run
When faced with a wide open field
Or even a long corridor.
The impulse insists
And the Child runs
Happily embracing the burst
Of brief careless freedom.
There is no destination or purpose.
There is only the running.
Rustling in the fringes
A flash of indiscriminate color,
A glimpse of the quirk of a mocking smile,
Opening out and spreading
Silence seeping in, then saturating.
Nowhere to be seen,
But I feel it,
Blending with the surrounding scenery.
The Thought hides
and I wait, poised and expectant
for Inspiration to leap and strike.
Welcome to my Cast Off Party. You may be envisioning a snappy yacht, sea breezes, sun soaked guests, tropical beverages, classy appetizers and a festive atmosphere. Strike all of that from your mind except the festive atmosphere. I am not referring to a boat cast off, I am referring to this obstacle that has been attached to my wrist for the past month. Granted, it is flaming orange and waterproof, which are definitely pluses in the world of broken bones, but I am feeling quite festive about the fact that I am chilling in the Orthopedic doctor’s office awaiting its removal.
I have made it thus far in my life without breaking any pieces of my skeleton. Until a month ago, that is. On Mother’s Day. I am not one who is used to being slowed down down. I am an independent, fast moving sort who doesn’t like to ask for assistance. It has been frustrating, but I have made it my mission to continue to participate in all of my regular activities and become as adept as possible sans one functional hand. The other infuriating thing about this whole situation is that I don’t have a good story for the cause of my predicament. No story for this storyteller. You know everyone has been asking what happened. I would have loved to say that I broke my hand rock climbing or surfing or preventing a burglary. But instead, the truth is that I slipped in a friend’s bathroom. I put out my hand to catch my fall and heard a sickening crunch that resulted in a pretty little spiral fracture around the middle metacarpus of my left hand.
Sometimes, we need to be reminded how fantastic it is to have good health and full use of all of our body parts because, of course, not everyone does. So celebrate with me today every time you are able to tie your shoes, manipulate buttons, fasten bra hooks, cut food, put your daughter’s hair into a ponytail, make a frappuccino, and type a blog post using all of your fingers.
I can’t exactly tell
Where the Desert kisses the Sky.
The silence hides their passion well,
But the smoldering shimmer reveals the lie.
Is it where the dunes reach to embrace?
Or where the valley submissively yields?
Perhaps it’s when a sudden wind does race
Over the seemingly barren and brooding fields.
Electricity trembles where they doth touch.
My senses hum the tune they sing.
So thickly quiet, but speaking so much.
My skin is parched and mine eyes they sting
The blue is brilliant against the sand’s pale clutch
The sun it colors me and the sand doth cling.
“Slip inside the eye of your mind,
Don’t you know you might find a better place to play?
You said that you’d never been,
All the things that you’ve seen will slowly fade away.”
I am quoting an Oasis song here. Anyone who knows me well enough knows that I adore poetry, song lyrics and thought provoking quotes. They do help me to slip into the eye of my mind where I do like to play. I find some rather creative thoughts and ideas back there and do my best to pull them out and sprinkle them into the hectic jumble that is my life. Part of what is back there, of course, are memories. Painful ones and sparkly ones. Let’s address those sparkly ones. I don’t believe that “all of the things you have seen (need to) slowly fade away.” The moments that have inspired us need to be kept in the forefront of our lives and incorporated into how we live instead of being tucked away as an awesome experience that is over. This moves us from merely Regular Life into Real Life.
My husband and I just got back from a lengthy vacation to Peru. The main purpose was the birthday of one of my husband’s best friends. The birthday boy’s mother is from a family of twelve and there was a turn out of approximately thirty friends and family from different parts of the world to participate. The family members are loud, they are fun loving, they are argumentative and they are tightly supportive of each other. And they included us as one of their own. The camaraderie was beautiful and the trip was packed with parties, sight seeing, jungle hiking, boating, sand sledding, tomb exploring and much wonderful food, drink and conversation. There were many inspiring moments during that trip. And I will keep them and use them instead of tucking them away as a wistful memory. This keeps me in the realm that is beyond Regular Life. Regular Life is what I refer to as the daily taking care of business existence. Regular Life is necessary because it is the foundation that Real Life is built upon. My idea of Real Life consists of what makes you feel alive and causes your heart to beat faster. It is the feelings created by breathtaking scenery, caressing breezes, uplifting music, beautiful food, exhilarating sex, side-splitting laughter, warm embraces, understanding smiles, adventurous thrills, new experiences, epiphanies and other such moments. You don’t only need to be on vacation to be participating in Real Life although that tends to be the goal of vacations. If you don’t let Regular Life blind you and bog you down you can find Real Life possibilities everywhere. Take care of business but don’t forget to slip inside the eye of your mind and look through that lens. Live out loud. There’s so much around you. Keep it in front and you’d be surprised how it colors everything else.
Is neither warm nor cold.
It is neither black nor bright.
It is slightly too large.
My footfalls echo when I am pacing.
But I am not always pacing.
Mostly, I sit in the center,
Emptying my mind
Listening vaguely to
Of my Evolution
In the quiet
For the brilliant butterfly of my existence
On the outside
Of my cocoon.
Dark streaks on the window pane
The rivulets stutter
And absorb the filth
Before pushing relentlessly downward
Continuing the purposeful journey
To soak the ground
To enable growth to spring forth.
At times they are trapped by manmade
Rendering them useless to their mission.
There they wait
Until the sun collects them
Anticipating the chance to try again.