meditation / methology of running

It is an immutable fact that I am hitched elsewhere, to another time and place. The sultry sway of the trees this morning does not hold me back, as the rain is imminent and humid air hangs like a drape along my shoulders. My face partially concealed by a swaying curtain of darkness, in an obsessive need, I wipe a gleam of sweat. Sweat pulling my emotions into a melting on the ground, the furthering unraveling of my deepest layers.

meditation / rain / running / solitaire

Nature left its window open today, allowing the cold of the air to trap my lungs. A cold, damp sweat pervades any lingering thought the summers heat was here to stay. The door to Fall now flung wide open, as my flesh takes notice of the intrusion. My feet soaked, as the fragrance of the rain hangs at the tip of my nostril. Cliff hanging, tormented beads of sweat cling on the outset of every one of my pores.

Hurdling over a puddle, as my breasts keep pace with every step of my footing. Feeling the roundness of the beads escaping down the curvature of my body, my sneakers take up the drowning. Sneakers take up the soaking from my flesh...as my shins are splattered with speckled fragments of mud from each puddle. Sentinel, solitary , simplified , once again, I grieve for the summertime!

meditation / running /

My resolve crumbles just long enough to doubt my own perception, as I run through a spider web dangling in suspension. My face en-clothed in a white spiral diamond of veil as my breath announces itself under the tangled web of my flesh. Cupping palm against cheek, just long enough to catch the rolling bead of sweat from a torrid ride on the wave of my breast. Moving in and out of life like the changing of the seasons, a cord of connection between the web and my sneaker traps all of my discontent. Leaves it hanging on a broken tree branch, dangling, unattached, unnoticed...  

Meditation / Monday / art to eat from

the glassware I create which has kept me mighty busy these past few weeks and away from posting daily on this blog

Why for the entirety of my life have I always felt like this? The feeling that I need to cope, that I need to hang on, that this is what is expected of me, being the glue to hold all of the sum pieces of life together. There have been plenty of times where having to be the glue was my least favorite job.  

Here I am again, being the glue for one of my grown up children. The same glue that has disconnected me from my other two-grownup children, as they have tossed their need for glue to the side, and myself, the collateral damage along the way.  This one daughter though, I am not so much the glue for her life, but rather, the cement in her shoes that holds her firmly in place. I really wish to be the bird that simply flees overhead, watching, not the cement, or the glue, the mucky sticky mess that often wraps around my fingers like silly putty.

I want to fly above and simply watch life as a spectator, as part of the theatrical audience enjoying the show, not the one patching up the holes, sweeping the dirt under the carpet, molding perfection out of something that is anything but. I, for once, just this once, want my hands to be clean of the glue, as it is exhausting and weary. I have built foundations from nothing at all, resurrected full-scale models of life, from just ruble and debris. I have had to build castles from cardboard boxes. I have always had to be the glue in life. Just once, I wish to not feel the stickiness of life’s toils!

Endless Summer

The leaves underfoot this morning give way to the fact that the endless moments of summer, are soon to come to a close. This is the time of year I always wish to turn back the hands of time from. The time I lay still and silent under the bedcovers in predawn light, as a slight chill creeps into my toes, just before they hit the floorboards.

It is the time my windows remain only half open, with air so cool and crisp drifting under my nose, that the feel of a hot coffee cup is all that will deliver warmth to my fingertips. 

I know now, as I have always known in my past, that this season of change is often my deepest season, my deepest reason for solitude pressed to my chest like an ice cube held to my sweat in mid July.

It is my season of bringing in rose petals, to savor their aroma and sweetness, a lastly hope that offers me forgiveness to the harshness of a life I still have flickers of. 

The leaves are the incurable reminder, that life changes, that seasons fade, and acceptance does not come easily to a girl who swaddles herself in the basking sun of summer, where warmth gives color and peace to her surroundings. It is the time that my bare feet, now, need covering.

life waters/ meditation/ yoga

How do we circumvent through the worst parts of life? The days we can barely breath without feeling a tidal wave of despair come over us. How do we move past what hurts, to reclaim enough earth beneath our feet, so that we are again, able to stand? How do we love, when the forgiving still has not surfaced from our soul? The days that the red sea parts, and swallows us whole, is that not the day that we find oneself, reinvent our path, and dare to have anyone cross in front of us? 

Why is acceptance the hardest word of all to grasp the definition of? Is our fate our own? Or has it been left to some mystical god none of us believe in? How do we get past the pain enough not to allow it to pull us into the mud? How do we let go? How do we learn all over again, what we never meant to forget?