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On a limb

autumoct-25-2016.jpgI really depend on problems.  They engage my intellect. Energy flows best in me while in the “problem solving” mode.

But it’s killing me.

I spend hours intellectually solving the emotional crisis created in make-believe power struggles to right a wrong. I tune in preferentially to the oppression of wrong thinking, ready to push back.  My eyes notice first the thing “wrong” with the picture.

I was educated to do this. My skills honed to fix the broken.

I have the mind of science, dissection as discovery.

Did I mention it’s killing me?

I use the quest for perfection as motivation to create. I think and talk and type until my voice is heard.

I yell louder –  and over power.

I think deeper – and over intellectualize.

I focus harder-  and over work.

It is killing me.

Can I just hang there?  Can I hold a view on the edge that accepts the death of needing to solve the moment?  Can I then live within the fall of mind to heart?

Can I live in the pain of brokenness, of autumn’s peace and beauty and know season’s change is not my call to arms?

Can I just die a bit in the strain of change without the torture of failure?

 

Image courtesy of Brenda-meditative journey with saldage.

 

 

Posted on by lteston · 5 Comments

Daughters Sad Goodbye

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His poverty of love betrayed every effort

and he settled for survival-

afraid even of comfort

a man alone in a mind framed by fear.

His death came as could be expected-

outside, nature fallen.

Along his years-

he was loved without knowing how to love, 

embraced not knowing how to hold, 

home not knowing how to father.

Yet in this moment, in this breath

he is today beloved.

 

photography courtesy of Sarah Vaughn
Posted on by lteston

Eternal Life

abandoned

Maybe it’s just restlessness

     in the perpetual grind of a broken spirit.

Maybe it’s fearfulness

    in the gasp of life without meaning.

Maybe it’s loneliness

    in want of being home where I can be we.

It’s definitely unstable

    with steps not leading to a lone path.

It’s definitely noisy

   with doubts out-crying a rhythm in dissonant tunes.

It’s definitely me

   in a space holding it all

   in a matrix of twisted becoming

   in quest for a soul – everliving.

 

photography courtesy of Pat Cegan

 

Posted on by lteston

Captured

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I  am so captured in telling of tales, foreign reflections reframing reveal 

fears clouding my sun blocking my view

mind wondering,  narrating a hurt or failed feud.

The sound of my steps meter the beat, linked to the pace of breath and repeat

Then fear unto death strikes from the south

eyes widened with terror, scales fallen off.

Captured no more, my heart in a beat 

gasps with a cry and swallows a scream

free to regret, confess and relive

knowing the now was 

lost once again.

 

Photography courtesy of Peter Corr
Posted on by lteston

Swell

b83d268657b3d4395c4b8fd78369fe87What of the rage within that swells?

– quiet

then like a boom, you crash against the wall with words

you knock another off their holy high and you fall and drown

ego slammed against the shore 

shamed to be sand-covered

soaked in  humanity

-quiet. 

photo courtesy of Kalani Cummins
Posted on by lteston

What a shame….

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The space of day is broken, even the breath and thought of touch.

How did I move

into such pain?  

inbred the call, inside the frame

   the me I think I am, it grows…. the cancer, the shame.

photography courtesy of Ériver Hijano
Posted on by lteston

Sweet spot

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“bittersweet” courtesy of Phillip Schwarz

A journey to stay connected and embraced leaves you vulnerable and obvious. 

You will not be strong all the time.

A journey to be present even among shame and pain leaves you broken.

You will not win.

A journey with the sun leaving for winter and then back again leaves you tired.

You will change.

A journey to find your place with strangers at the table will leave you hungry.

You will know–bittersweet.

Posted on by lteston

On the pin

Living daily on the edge, the point of change and even chaos requires an ability to perceive and interpret beginnings.  Can you see something new happening from something old? Can you  hear the key change and move to an altered beat?

To do this every day is not sustainable without love and hope. Love creates the net that will catch you when you fall from the pinnacle and hope promises to set you back upright and in a new place.  

So on the head of a pin angels dance, moving to the beat of a love song — hopeful you will see them orchestrating your part in new spaces of beginning.