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Panic Without a Cause…

There is a near panic running through my veins tonight, a panic without a cause. It started last night as a vague, ill-defined fear that I tried to push aside. But it’s come back now, with a vengeance, and not knowing why is only making it worse…

“Let’s face it, Lisa dearest. You may have many faults, and quirks that make you weird. You may have real mental illness issues, even if you manage to blend in. But random anxiety attacks are not your thing, and panic is not your style!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!,” I respond too sharply. “Don’t you think I get that?!” I cannot seem to keep the panic out of my own voice tonight; I cannot even fool myself!

But the truth is I do my best work in crisis, staying calm, focused and on task. I may not be a physical asset when sh*t breaks loose, but my thinking becomes crystal clear. I am definitely someone you want in your bunker when all options are on the table, for I will see the “best” course of action, almost intuitively.

Tonight, though, I cannot find my way through tangled threads of time and truth, nor can I make sense of muddied waters all around me. There is nothing here! Nothing to do! There is only the panic, the shallow breathing, the racing beat of my own heart, and nothing (absolutely nothing!) to blame it on!

“Ok, child, breathe… Just breathe… Seek not, for those answers may not yet exist. Wait… And let the truth come here to you.”

*** *** ***

Sitting in the darkness now

hidden safely in the shadows.

Breathing strangled, but steadier,

heart rate coming down…

WIth my heart and mind,

expanding on all sides,

exploring every timeline,

claiming what is mine.

But the source of this eludes me still,

defying every effort,

every tool I’ve ever used,

leaving me lost at sea, baffled and confused.

“Wait! What is that?!,” as blood pressure begins to rise.

“Swooping shadows overhead,

circling…

then flying high to deeply dive.”

I’ve seen this pattern, recently,

earlier tonight.

There was a single seagull flying

over me, as I waited at that light.

Exactly this same flight path;

I remember thinking it was odd.

And last night, on the porch,

the same pattern mapped by moths!

Calm begins to settle over me,

as my thinking ratchets up.

“Yes! There is something significant in this…

Of that much I am certain!”

But what does this dance represent?

And who is doing it?

What spirit or form of self

is dancing this pattern tonight?

For it isn’t “me” or one of mine

enacting this persistent ritual.

But someone else entirely…

Or should that pronoun now be plural?

Yes… yes… I’m on to something now.

I see a circle, and a fire, with dancers all around.

I cannot hear the music that they dance to,

though I can see it in the way they move and sway.

They dance for peace and healing,

but they draw danger in with every swoop and swirling turn.

It circles in, drawing closer every round…

I’m not sure they even sense its presence as their feet beat an incessant rhythm on the ground.

Euphoria cut short…

Battle lost before weapons are even drawn…

My heart weeps for those who will be lost,

with the rising of the Sun…

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Poetry

“The Seed…”

There is a seed within me, growing stronger every day.

An instant of perception that weighs heavy in my brain…

What was it? Exactly? That led me down this way…

For I no longer remember details; just momentum and gravitational sway.

It started as adventure, high hopes and courage holding hands,

that slipped into monotony, repeating over and over again.

Until now it’s just a sense of direction, compelling and convincing

Allowing no detours, no lengthy breaks, no hijacking of resources.

“It is what it is…”

“I am who I am…”

No fault, blame, excuse or reason.

It haunts me like a shadow, attached but separate…

It hunts me like a bird of prey, far from reach but stalking…

I feel the eyes upon me, even now that I’m alone…

Paranoia’s icy grasp once more, or “I’s” I’ve not yet known?

I do not know…

yet.

But to admit:

There is a seed within me…

Germinating as we speak.

And soon it shall crack open

Revealing its epiphany…

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Poetry

“Emo-ting”…

All dressed in black…

heavy bangs hung low to hide my eyes

from those soul-less zombies of society

who thrive on peering…

…and prying inside.

Hungry ghosts seeking me

to feed upon my fear…

…and anxiety.

Driven to explore…

the shadowed recesses of my mind

confronting my felonious nature

my angst and downcast eyes…

…the only outward signs.

Of the price I pay every day

for the crime of Being…

…and staying alive.

 

** NOTE: Please don’t take this too seriously, folks.  I’m just exploring my “emo” nature a bit, having had the word “angst” appear in the comments section of my last two posts…  😀

 

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Reflections

Wordy, wordy… the Message in the Medium…

I use too many words to express how I feel, to say what I mean, to get my point across…  If you follow me at all regularly, you know this.  I often meander way off track to get to where I’m going, taking the scenic path through unnecessary landscapes, just to prolong the journey.  I know this about myself.  I’ve heard it all my life.  It’s one of the reasons I’d never make it as a published writer, because I refuse to let those extra words go, and I will not allow my message to be biased by arbitrary (even if well-reasoned) word count limits…

So to be told by someone that I “sure take a round about way to make a simple statement” shouldn’t “hurt,” right?  But it does…  It feels like a rebuke.  Because it is one.  It also happens to be true!

My response?  Immediately shut up while silently going on the defensive…

[But I love words!  I want to use them…]

[So what?  No one is requiring you to hear me out…  I’m just making conversation, after all.]

[Sorry… My bad…]

And then I retire with my cup of coffee to mull it over…  And over…  And over again… [Just to be sure, you understand…?*]…

(* note where the comma is placed; it’s important.)

And then I ask myself, “what does it matter?”  If this is who I am (and I like that), what difference does it make?  People are free to walk away any time.  Why should this even bother me?

But it does…  Which tells me something more than mere words is happening here; some truth is trying to reveal itself to me.  So let’s chew on this some more…

Why do I need so many words to express my self?  [Oh, is there an extra space there, dividing the word “myself”?  ;)]  Why can’t I be content just saying what I mean?  Why does almost every direct statement feel incomplete?

Is it just my ego revelling in the sound of my own voice?  Is it my insecurity attempting to hold someone’s attention, now that they’re finally listening to me?  Or is there something more going on with Me? [Yes, that capital “M” was intended; it’s not a typo.]

The truth is all those “extra” words serve a purpose in the end.  They provide background, context, for what the words are “supposed” to mean, at this time, in this place… all relative, you see…?  They provide history (how I got to the point I’m trying to make), and connotative context (how and why I feel about what I’m about to say).  But mostly, all those extra syllables are there to illustrate the complexity and design behind simple statements, to show how Truth cuts through dimensional barriers, existing every where, every time, simultaneously, without contradiction.  That fact never ceases to create a sense of awe and wonder in me, and it is the closest thing (I’ve ever experienced) to the feeling known as “faith.”

I, personally, have never “trusted” an outsider to “take care of me.”  I’ve never believed that any human, god or cosmic plan existed with my best interests at heart, even in the best of times.  I’ve always waited for the other shoe to drop – the expectation, the exhortation, the exploitation…  It always comes…  Eventually.

And maybe that’s just the way life is done – an exchange of energy essential to keep things moving along.  Too much flowing in one direction creates an imbalance, requires correction.  Nature abhors a vacuum, right?

So… who’s to say all these extra words are not necessary after all?  If only in the way they hold the space, preventing any lesser truth (or greater falsehood) from sneaking in behind to fill the void.  So much left unsaid when word counts start to matter.  So much left open to interpret, outside my purposeful intent.  Yes, indeed, there are times for that.  But that’s what poetry is for…

And when carefully constructed poetry (or random intuitive ramblings) draw forth too literal responses (“what a lovely picture you paint with your words!”), however well-meaning and sincere…  Well, let’s just chalk that up to the Failed column, with so many other wasted words, because [clearly!] you didn’t get my point at all…

*** deep sigh ***

Words are easy… Communication is not.

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Flashback..., Poetry, Reflections

A Timely Reminder…

I don’t usually have a lot of good things to say about social media, but every once in a while Facebook surprises me with a timely reminder.  This is one of those “share a memory” things, when Facebook suggests you re-post something from your past.  This one posted 3 years ago on this date, before I had started this blog.  I was surprised to see it and read it today, so I thought I’d share it here, in a more “appropriate” medium…

Sitting here in the dark, listening to music and the rain, cuddling with my cat, feeling deeply grateful that my roommate is home safe and well, and that my grandson is feeling better…

Pondering the sheer perfection of this moment, knowing I am alive and surrounded by so much that is magical, mysterious, and moving…

And these words snuck up on me, without warning. They felt significant, though, enough so that I thought I should share…

If you feel like reading them all, of course… lol

In the Darkness, I sense a Light…
It shines without blinding,
Reveals without harshness,
Guides without demanding…

In the Light, I seek the Fire…
That warms without burning,
Comforts without suffocating,
Spreads without overwhelming…

In the Fire, I discover a Heart…
And know that it loves without coercion
Gives without expectation,
Honors without judgment…

In the Rain, I hear a Voice…
Speaking gently of the light,
Speaking warmly of the fire,
Speaking softly from the heart…

“I love you…
“Now, and forever…
“Just be your Self…”

“Be the Light.”

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Poetry, Reflections

Untethered…

Sitting in the sunshine, frozen to my core

Forgetting what it felt like,

to ever feel warm…

I know that heat exists, out there beyond my self

Passion, hope and rage

are fueling violence and change…

But here where I am sitting, only numbness can survive

All else driven out now

by the whims of a consumed mind…

And temperature is just a gauge, another useless measure

Something used to judge and placate

an arbitrary line between the pain and pleasure…

Personification, another useless gesture, implying boundaries non-existent

False directives, planned conflict

attempts to impose imaginary structure…

But why even bother, why waste your energy?

If everything is lost

can anything get “better”?

I ponder the “need” to carry on, to see this to the end

I balk at taking final steps

I wonder about the when…?

For Time itself is failing now, buckling under the strain

Of too many misguided intentions

and too much wisdom slain…

So I’m sitting in the sunshine, frozen to my core

Forgetting what it felt like

to ever feel warm…

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