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.

 

 

1st position

20160607_slt4529-197nikCicadas fading hum meets the cool morning breeze

with a call and response litany among the usual flight of birds

except geese in formation against the wind directly pointed

while the lutheran’s sanctioned bell begs their ordered migration.

It is Sunday.  

It is the day the trees dance in 1st position to know Sabbath’s touch. 

 

photography via Stephenltyler.

 

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

 

Tangled

dsc_0391_01_01.jpg I have plans to free myself of life’s in-betweens.

The places where boundaries fade and color each other.

The places where messy edges scatter thoughts and wound intent.

I can’t negotiate these gaps so I plan a get away.

I throw my hands up to free my soul.

The pieces scatter far apart yet I stand alone still tangled.

 

Photography contributed by “Jeb, Traffic with Elves Fauns and Fairies”

Love’s silence

What I hear is an option. Even in choosing silence- I can hear. I listen….

streetphotography-2212

Sound is a space of being

Sound is a link to a moment in time.

It is tangible, functional, inviting.

As I separate the tones and attend to one over the other I learn and feel and know a new old something.

As the layers stream into my consciousness

I am reminded

I am comforted

I am loved.