For a Friend

In an old myspace blog I use to have I wrote....

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22 Aug 2006
sometimes people make use of false guilt’s and so they find an excuse for closing there eyes to there very real guilt’s
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 ....I recall, after posting this, my ex-husband calling me and wanting to hash out "What is that suppose to mean" with me. It was written not long after I moved back home to prepare for my divorce. It all seems so long ago and ancient now. The quote still makes perfect sense of the hell I call my first marriage. Life does not stand still though and onward I moved. Frankly, I just threw myself into moving on and a few months later I wrote this....

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4 Feb 2007
love story

This story is not an easy one to tell. For all the openness I am; all the truth I strive to be, some things are more difficult to express than others. Fear has a lot to do with that. When you spend your life believing so strongly in love, only to have your heart shattered, it creates a hurt that heals but scars. The initial wound fades rather quickly but scars take time to diminish. Sometimes they never fully fade. Unlike the faint lines that mark your flesh internal scars are only visible in the moment. For me, moment of venerability; intensely emotional moments; primal intimate moments, these almost paralyze my whole being. Words ball up like a hot weight in my stomach as they struggle to come out. So this is why I write them.

The first time you touched me was the first time I'd been really touched in so long. I didn't realize in the moment. I was so intent on guarding myself that only later did I realize how significant that touch had been. It was so simple. Yet it grew in me in ways I couldn't understand. I wanted to drive it away. My conscious mind pummeled me with memories from the past. They way my heart had raced with fury till I believed it might explode. The way my soul ached and how I had collapsed from the swell of anguish. Knowing that every whisper, every profession of undying devotion had been a lie. A sick game for his twisted pleasure.

In the shock of my broken reality I had swore I would never allow myself to feel again. I had envisioned a future of self-gratification and nothing more. My whole focus became a forward motion. Work, success, personal dreams, goals, those where my new lover. Stability from nothing. I would create a new existence free from hurt. Most importantly, above all else, protection and love for my son.

When I was younger games where easy to play. I was inspiration and as such the center of my universe. It never occurred to me how deeply my disconnection affected others. Now, as I am older, I view things more empathically. I understand a little better the way I touched soft hearts because I became one myself. From that came knowledge. "Knowledge is power" or at least that's what they say. What they fail to explain is that what you do with that power defines your soul. I seek truth. I ask myself, "How can I be wise?" all the while my spirit soaring with passionate inspiration. Is it possible to find balance? Can one really have the discipline to contain their actions while there essence burns with life?

In most ways I am strong. The wall around me is high but the gate is generally open. The garden maze beyond intoxicating. Tourists come and go but that's fine. Many follow threw its winding beauty and never look at its complexity. The different hews and shades of its mosaic light. It is very rare that one meanders. Vary rare that one questions its intricacies. I am its caretaker yet even I sometimes fail to notice what grows in its deeper depths. As you passed threw you left a seed. A seed so slow growing and persistent that despite my want to ignore it my dreams intervened.

Heavy tiredness draws over my every night. Exhaustion from the almost overwhelming task of creating a new life. Most night's dreams never come and I awake as if perpetually hung-over. Never realizing truly recuperative rest. This night the darkness of my mind blossomed. The vision began with me leaning over the banisher of a stilted house. Blue and somewhat Mediterranean in style it hovered over a stark landscape. In the beginning you seemed to come down from the sky in a rush. As if falling from some unknown height. Your hands grasped massive high wires and momentarily you swung. The polls holding the structure began to lean and I called out to you to be careful. As they slowly gave way my heart jumped fearing your fate. Yet you came down gracefully like one does after they parachute. Around the corner of the house you ran and disappeared. I stood at the white railing looking down. Looking for where you had gone.

After a few seconds my gaze returned to the horizon, considering the geometry of this odd subconscious world. I felt your hands gently come to my sides. I should have been startled but it felt so familiar. Closer you pulled to me, your chest grazing my back. Your nose nuzzled past my hair and lightly touched the arch of my neck. Laying your chin on my shoulder you rapped your arms around my waist. Holding me as we watched the evening light fade.

In the art of storytelling an author should seek to leave an impression. To lead into inspiration yet leave room for the imagination. The story doesn't end here. In fact it is only the beginning. But for now I seek to be wise. To let it stand still and see how the rest of it grows. It is for you to find truth.

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The story is intentionally cryptic. Although I did actually dream about my new love before I met him. It is a combination of musing and self reflection. As the year went on I grew so much as a person. I never could have imagined in the place I was before how suffocating my past life had become. With the freedom I became stronger and more complete as a human being.

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28 Mar 2007
listening to the voice of god

There's something about the south. Perhaps it's the sultry evenings. The way the humidity clings and the breeze caresses. Or the hues of pink and orange lingering as the slate blue gray slips across the sky. Of course maybe I'm just partial being a southern girl.

I was walking the dog tonight, as I do most evenings, looking trees and contemplating how much I really enjoy life. Watching the children playing as I pass. Taking in all the beauty the world has to offer.

There where times back when I was with John and I would stop my rambling thoughts and take it all in. And I would say to him, "we are truly blessed". Since being alone I have realize it wasn't "we" that where blessed but "me".

I am blessed with sight. I am blessed with insight. I am blessed with the gift of life and the ability to recognize how wonderful that is. What's more I am also blessed with a child. A life I've been given to shape and care for.

I don't presume to understand much. I do the best I can and try and make the most of what I have. But I do know that I am very thankful. In spite of all the petty day-to-day crap that comes my way at the end of the day everything is ok. I am ok. My son is ok. The world is ok.

I love
I love life
And I truly am blessed

(by the way- "the voice of god" is a short instrumental piece by Thomas Newman)
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Looking back it's rather inspiring how quickly the soul can start to heal.... The above was written less than a year after splitting up with my ex... A couple days later I found myself musing over this....

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 29 Mar 2007
The Little Prince and the fox

There is so much wisdom in children.... that's why I love children’s books The following is from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"And now here's my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince so he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
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I knew in my heart the man who truly understood this passage would be my "prince" forever...

After divorce I think everyone’s first reaction is, "never again" ...for me my new love was quick to come. The course of events fell almost perfectly in both our lives to bring us together and yet neither of us understood that at first. Or perhaps we did, but fear can do strange things to people.

When I met my love, the very moment I looked into his eyes for the first time I knew. Yet my mind went, "Oh crap, I don’t need this right now." ....it's funny to think back to that.... especially considering where I am now...

In October of 2008 my love and I moved in together. In August of 2009 our beautiful daughter was born. I was proposed to probably no less than 5 times before I accepted. In October of the same year we where married. I would like to say that was my happily ever after, but even then the wisdom of the fox was to be tested. My prince was slow to understand but eventually and with Gods help he finally understood the meaning of the story. Though I doubt he ever read it.

Life goes on. What happens after, "and they lived happily ever after?"....I would like to think, they live happily.... I do..