Paradise from Fire...

(originally published in 2007)

I found a post recently from a blogger that I've been reading off and on for over a year.

He posted this:

"Passion"

You can’t have passion

without having hope.

When you have passion,

you no longer fear.


While I agree with his statements above- I have some questions...
and I had a vision.
I'll start with the vision.

I saw a volcano.
Liquid fire gushed up through the top and spilled over the sides of the mountain...burning, rolling, inching it's way towards the water below.

The lava was beautiful, powerful and intense.
Absolutely nothing could stand in it's way. It consumed everything in it's path.
Plants vaporized from the heat long before the lava got close to them. The whole landscape of the mountain was altered.

As it moved it's color changed. Slowly it lost it's bright red intensity as it started to cool. Eventually it turned into what looked like black stone...barren and porous.

What had been a vibrant, hot, moving, molten mass of melted earthly innards was now something completely different. It had become rock hard- black- and very sturdy.

What if passion is like lava?

What if, over time, passion completely changes it's form and function?
What if- what you experienced early on in your relationship is unreasonable to expect later on?

What if you are unprepared for the truth of that transformation?

What if you keep expecting the red hot stuff, but only find black rocks everywhere?
Did anyone tell you this would happen?
Didn't you see it your parents marriage? Or did you chalk it up to apathy, or old age, or not pay any heed to it?

The passion couples have for each other is not always like it was in the beginning...sometimes not even close. However, the poem above makes a profound statement...
"When you have passion, you no longer fear"-

No fear of being alone.
No fear of rejection- (at least in a healthy relationship.)

Passion becomes one of two things, as I see it. It either burns up and burns out, or it transforms into something solid- something you can build a relationship on.

It's interesting to think of liquid fire becoming stone and then supporting life. It does not seem possible, and yet-- look at Hawaii. A whole chain of islands created by volcanic activity- now lush and green and full of living things.

What is better? The burning hot lava- red and fiery- and a wonder to behold? Or the stunning plant and animal life that's taken over every square inch of the islands?

It's difficult to comprehend in the lava stage that things are going to change so very, very much.

And hard to imagine, when standing in Paradise, all of the beauty we behold started with an explosion and fire.

This is where I find myself in this phase of my life.
Missing what was and stunned by what is.

It is breath-taking and gorgeous...

And not at all what I expected.

Treasured

In a moment of need,
I held him as he wept,
I kept his tears as if they were treasure.
I saw his brokenness, I felt his grief.
His wounds have scars, but the blood still flows.

Murder, death, loss, regret, honor, strength, orders followed.
Betrayal, humiliation, meditation, endurance, zen...then freedom.

Freedom to fall. Fall. Fall.

A new season of brokenness begins, as does a time of mending.
A season of dependency, and of growth- perhaps like no other.
Then an era of love.

Still tied by strands to things of the past. Some bonds are more easily broken than others. The hardest to let go of- run deep.
Abandonment, insecurity, hunger pains.
No fear of the dark, Armor, weapons, tactical skills, discernment, hands off.
All tools to keep fools and pain at bay.

Yet- I wrap myself around him.
I need him when he is cold. I ache when he is hungry and alone. I grasp his closed hand and rub the muscles which carried weapons, changed lives, and tended to the wounded. His wounds have waited long enough.

The future swirls before us. Nothing is clear except the Need.
The Need to be loved and accepted with our broken hearts, and broken bones.
The Need to be known as we are, with the blood, the unborn, and the darkness which surrounds us to be washed away, uncovered, and illuminated.
The Need to look into the eyes of another and find no judgement.
A Need to be treasured and held dear.

And You are beloved friend,

You are.

-CRB/1.12.11

Jan 21, 2010

I'm foolish, I'm lost,
Running into slippery corners-
Bouncing off hard surfaces.
Coming up empty handed,
And covered in bruises.

My body physically aches,
As does my heart-
My brain has sloshed one too many times
to and fro
against the bone walls which contain it.

I once knew me-
I Barely recognize me now.
A woman once so grounded,
Now flutters like a tattered butterfly-
Grief can do this.

How did I end up here?
With this hole in my soul-
Ragged, hot, seared...
like a bullet wound
Through the ethereal fabric of my Spirit.

There must be a way-
To patch my heart.
There must be a thread,
Light, yet strong enough for the task...
Perhaps a silken strand from a spider?

Love is not for the weak-
Because where there is love,
Grief will follow-
for Grief is a love word...
It is the sum of everything dear to the heart- lying in a grave at one's feet.

I find no rest in the cemetary.
I find no peace in the silence.
I find no joy in what I've lost.
I find no relief in what I've learned.
I feel the fierce cold of longing.

Missing you is bigger than me.
Moving forward is akin to changing the oceans natural tide.
I need the power and pull of the moon-
Let it lift me, as I once lifted you-
To a place of beauty and understanding, and determination to LIVE fully.

And to never give up.
And to never give up.
Never give up

I miss you friend~

My Political Views
I am a right social moderate
Right: 3.58, Authoritarian: 0.2

Political Spectrum Quiz

"Exploring"

Life,

Loss,

Love,

Death,

Changes big and small-

-

Living,

Breathing,

Just existing-

I question...

-

"Is this all?"

-

Hello,

Goodbye,

Time flies by-

I stumble, slip,

I fall.

-

Bruised and bloodied I'll rise again,

but first I have to crawl.

-

Passionate heat,

Flames compete,

Oxygen consumed.

-

The fire's hot,

It's got to stop-

But only when it's through.

Burned everything in view,

-

Everything--- but you.

-

Walk beside me,

I'll let you guide me-

Hold my hands, my heart.

-

Laughing,

Loving,

Living,

Breathing-

-

Doing more "than just existing"-

My life...

Exploring every part.

Simply Amazing~

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I'm not sure how many times in your life you've been told that something was impossible- or couldn't be done. I know as I've gotten older I've seen 1 of 2 things happen- either we accept another person's opinion about a situation, or we press on if we feel strongly enough to determine for ourselves what a particular outcome can or will be.

Ultimately- "we"...you and I decide a path and we follow it.
A good friend once sent me a video of Jim Valvano and his "Never give up" speech- and to this day I am moved to tears when I watch the whole thing.

Miracles happen every day. People overcome odds and adversity every hour. Yesterday I read a story about a young man with a head injury who was pronounced "brain dead"- and moments before his organs were harvested it was discovered that he was very much alive.
He actually heard the Dr. say "This patient is brain dead."!!!

Some people, a few of them well intentioned, make it their duty to tell people what can and can not be done. It's ok to be told "That's impossible" if that statement is the catalyst that pushes you to run a little harder, or ask deeper questions, or to press the powers that be to try once more- or to try something different.

At least one woman is alive today because she wouldn't give up, a 63 year old patient in Florida with a death sentence has beaten the odds and in her own words, she said- "I have a whole life ahead of me."

Amen sister- that you do. Thanks for the inspiration you have given to me...in so many areas of my life. I've got a whole life ahead of me too :)

Benazir Bhutto knew- EVERY time she went out into the public square she was a target. Her supporters knew this too and by showing up for her public events they might also be a target.

"Islamic clerics tried to get a court to bar her from running in elections. She was a bad Muslim, they said.
"Anyone who supports the Pakistan People's Party will not enter heaven," a Muslim cleric in Lahore, Abdul Qadir, told a Friday prayer congregation ahead of the October 1990 elections. "
Of course she was a "Bad Muslim"- all of her early education was done in Roman Catholic schools with names like, " Lady Jennings Nursery School" and then the Convent of Jesus and Mary in Karachi.[2] After two years of schooling at the Rawalpindi Presentation Convent, she was sent to the Jesus and Mary Convent at Murree.

I'm not saying Benazir was a Christian, but she defintiely didn't go to a Muslim school as a child.
Could that be because there was no such place for a little girl to go back in the stone ages of Pakistan? Might it be the only institution that would cater to teaching (worthless?) little girls was that of the Christian faith? Surely, in her early years, she was somewhat shaped by a religion of grace and forgiveness; and a belief system shared by many of the founding fathers of our country, a place of democracy. Unlike the most of the Muslim leaders in the middle east who see women as merely property...or less. (one islamic document I read referred to women simply as f*ckable C*nts )

Not much has changed I'm afraid...seems Pakistan is still in the stone ages, except where technology and nuclear weapons are concerend.

Here's my point though- back to the beginning of the post- Benazir knew she was a target...every day, in every public situation- she knew her life was at risk. Her father was killed, as well as 2 brothers. She was painfully aware that her stabs at democracy would most likely shorten her life- and she was right.

My question to the American people is this- "Are you aware that WE are a target too?" The same democracy Bhutto struggled to bring to her country is the same stuff we piddle away everyday. Everything from not paying attention to how much of your paycheck is eaten up in taxes, to not voting...weakens our country. We are too easily distracted...we long for it actually- (what else explains Paris Hilton?) and too comfortable to get our feathers ruffled over the idea that the next ring of gunshots- or bombs going off....might just be aimed at us.

Benazir knew a laser sight was always locked on her heart and her head.
Don't ignore the red beam when you see it pointed in our direction. And don't tell me that no body warned you...
We are a target too, and getting bigger every day.

Respect vs Reverence~

My thanks to Gary Zukov-and "Seat of the Soul"

-

-"Reverence is an attitude of honoring life."

"Respect is a judgement."

I've lost respect for someone close to me- my father. I thought I was merely angry or disappointed in him, until I read the words above and realized it was my "respect" that was missing. And my "respect" is merely a judegement.

I'm exhausted from "judgements". I want little to do with the whole business of judging people or being judged by others. I'm weary of it, and from it.

This brings me to Reverence. I realize it's a divine thing.

Reverence is like the the ocean...and "respect" is a meager little float bobbing on the surface of the water. I've been holding on to this little tiny yellow float- thinking it had meaning and power...and all the while the greater thing keeps splashing me in the face.

The float keeps me from having to learn to swim the depths of reverence. The float, or "respect" has nothing to do with love, or grace, or divine power- it is merely human. It is an artifical placing of power. It is shallow. It is faulty.

Being Reverent allows me to see people differently. There is no need for respect in the eyes of a reverent person because they see everyone the same way...as living beings with the capacity for goodness and evil, power and corruption, love and apathy.

My father is still a person I must see with Reverence. Do you see the power of that?

I can accept him being a person as a being just like me- capable of many things- and let my "judgements" scatter like ashes on the water and disappear into the ocean of reverence.

My seeing my Dad with reverence does not negate the foolish or painful choices he's made, nor does it absolve him of his mistakes...what it does though...it absolves ME from carrying the unbearable weight of "judegement".

It's impossible to see the world with reverent eyes without the aid of forgiveness.

Today is a glorious new day. I've shed the heavy coat of sorrow I've been wearing- and sadly unaware that I even had it on until it slipped off. Much like the first 24 hours I ever used my asthma medication- I was absolutely stunned by how little I had been breathing in the weeks and months before.

Life can exist in the barest of margins... but it does not flourish there~ It flourishes in the Light, and in love...

Peace to you- all of you.

Shhhhh-

Silence affords us space to think.

It also gives us time.

Time expands into a bubble-
All of which will explode in a flash of glory...
or will die a slow death of exhalation.

Can I choose the explosion or the slow death???

I don't think so.


However- if I can choose-
then next time- I want the explosion...
I'm just saying.

Slow death is a raw deal- it really is :(

parts of a song-

"Sometimes I slowly drift away
From all the dull routine
That's with me every day
A fantasy will come to me

Lately my luck has been so bad
You know the roulette wheel'sA crooked deal,
I'm loosing all I had

Soon be like a man that's on the run
And live from day to day
Never needing anyone
Play hide and seek, throughout the week

Guess I'll always have to be
Living in a fantasy
That's the way it's got to be
From now on"

Similarity

The halls are empty-
Like a great big school during summer break-
It seems surreal that a place brimming with so much life could be so quiet.
Almost eerie. My footsteps echo clumsily ahead of me, and behind me.

I call out- but only my voice bounces around in the corners.
I am alone.
Abandoned in a way I never dreamed possible.
There's only me wandering around in this part of my heart.

The walls are covered in love notes-
Which look like graffiti to me now.
Or worse...they look like lies.
Or smudges I need to paint over.

All I see around me is in need of repair.
I gave away things I shouldn't have given away.
I let those words take precedent over my own.
A "friend" used this space- but left it without saying goodbye.

Wait...I see something in the corner...
It's moving~ ugh... A spider!

A spider has taken up residency in his place.
Seems fitting actually.

I'm not alone after all.
Make a web! Spider!
Make a trap- and guard my foolish heart.
I'm not smart enough yet to know how.

Teach me spider.
Since it's just you and I in here...
In the Great hall of my heart.

But she does not speak- she just spins her web.

Telling a story~

So unsure-
Of how I fit in...
Sister, mother, lover, friend-
Where do you start?
Where do I end?

Bliss here- an ache there-
Troubled thougths,
beneath long hair...
Blue eyes hide-
deep pain resides-
Questions with few answers.

Life's ahead- full steam...
"Forge"
Do I mean motion?
Or do I mean sword?
Progress or a beating?
It's hard to tell-

Too many words said?
Or were there too few?
I once thought I understood-
Now, I don't think I do.

I'm lost- and yet I know-
Where I am "dear",
Next to the little arrow that reads,
"You are here!"
Everything is clear as mud :(

Today I wrote in a private place-
"There is balance in my singularity",
And then try as I might...to feel guilty...
I could not.
The truth was simple, it had no strings attached.

But "sigh"- there are strings galore in life,
And simplicity is rare.
I over complicate everything~
Reason, sort, compare.
Sometimes "silence is just silence."?
perhaps...

I wonder, my friends,
What you might see between these lines.
And of my "laugh lines" too?
Lines with and without words...
They both tell a story.

I sprained my wrist...every word HURTS.
But that is a story for another time-
This late hour blurrs the mind.
My mind that is.
The little mind that wonders:

So unsure-
Of how I fit in...
Sister, mother, lover, friend-
Where do you start?
Where do I end?

Public or Private?

If you write something out here- on a blog- it's Public.

If you write something at home in a journal- it's Private.

You can't write something on a blog and say "This is just for me"- there's no logic in that statement. It's impossible for your writing to be for you and you alone when you broadcast it to the world. You might as well be stepping out in a big pink evening gown on the Red carpet and shouting to the photographers "I dressed for me! Don't look!"

Pshhhhh!

He says it's just for him...but he knows I will read it.

He an isolationist- who knows how to reach out and grab you...

but he does not care how long you sit outside waiting for him.

I once described him as a hermit.

A hermit I came to love.

A hermit who has hurt me repeatedly with his silence...

And yet- I know this is exactly what a hermit does.

He's not to blame for my ache- I am.

The thing though- the thing that gets me...is that I saw all of him once.

He even let me hold him...unguarded and vulnerable- and I will never

have that again.

But every now and then, he pokes out his head to let me see part of what I can not
have...and then taunts me with his words- "This is for me...and me alone. Not you!"

Why- sigh- why?

I'm not very complicated. I wanted to be loved- and to give love. I wanted the tingle. I wanted him. He said he loved me too...and he wanted me- but only on his terms?

I'll be honest here- I have a journal for private things I don't want the world to read. I have volumns of books with hundreds of thousands of my own words- penned by my own hand- for my eyes only. If I write something out here- it's public, not private.

When YOU write something out here- it's PUBLIC- not private.

but you already know that...

It's why you write the way you do-
You know I will see it...because you want me to. It's not just for you...it never was.

The back story~

39 years...
Wrapped up and tossed.
Thousands of moments-
Crumpled and lost.

Too many incidents-
Too much to forget,
Simply kill the Union,
Get past the regret.

He can live his life,
And she can live alone.
The kids are all grown ups
With homes of thier own.

And yet- there's the sting-
No more "Mom and Dad".
No longer a Unit...
And it just makes me sad.

Because I wanted to believe-
And I wanted them to make it,
But indeed there comes a time-
When 2 can no longer fake it.

A disolution of marriage,
Freedom from ties-
So many years vested~
Kiss them goodbye...


Yeah- I know this is sappy. I know, as a 38 year old woman, seeing my parents divorce is 1) no big surprise, and 2) maybe shouldn't sting quite as much as it does.
Yet- here I am.

Too many people close to the matter at hand read MV- and I simply can not write about this there. My mom and dad are fine with the arrangements they've made- but why is it hard for me? It scares me. I wish they had done this when they had been married less than 20 years, because the same problems I see now are the same problems they had then...and what does this say about me and my issues in marriage?

I know I am not my parents. I know I've made better choices because of their failures- so not all is lost, and yet- I've made some pretty big mistakes myself.

When my parents reached their 18 year anniversary- my mom was 36- dad 40, and they had 6 kids...the youngest was an infant. To be sure- that many kids only added to the problems my parents had. Much of the woe they experienced they brought on themselves. In one way- I almost see my mom using pregnancy and little ones as an excuse to avoid the problems she had with dad. Dad did nothing to fix the relationship either. Lots of kids gave the illusion of a happy family- and since he was the product of an alcoholic environment- keeping up "illusions" was the only way of life he ever knew.


How much of an illusion do I keep up?

This morning, in a Hardee's restaurant, I stood in line behind an elderly couple who were placing an order. The lady told the cashier what they wanted and the gentleman paid for breakfast. Their 2 little biscuits and coffee cost $3.79.

As he opened his wallet to take out his cash, he also pulled out a $50 bill in Mexican money (Pesos?) turned his head, and grinned at me. He said, "They won't take this stuff"- and I smiled and said, "No, I don't think they will". After he paid, he then turned to me and took out a bill that I didn't recognize. As he showed it to me he said- with an even bigger grin, "They won't take this either!" I asked him where it was from, and he said, "The Soviet Union".
I laughed and replied, "Well, you are just loaded! Aren't you?" He laughed too- and then shuffled off to follow his wife to their table. (Strangers often speak to me. I did not know this man or his wife, but I was not surprised by his friendliness. I think I appear "approachable"- particularly to older people. And little kids :)

I placed my order next. As I waited at the counter I turned around to watch the elderly couple, and I caught them at the exact moment they held hands, lowered their heads, and gave thanks for their food. Tears welled up in my eyes immediately. A thousand thoughts and feelings swept over me as I stood there. I don't know how it's possible for the human brain to process so many thoughts and feelings in such a tiny span of time, but it did.
In a matter of seconds I went from thinking about my chicken biscuit to getting weepy over a couple of old folks who were merely doing what they've probably done for 50 years or more.
It was beautiful.

Of course I wondered about their life. I kind of wanted to interview them. Actually though, that would have been a distraction for me, because what was at the root of my tears had nothing to do with the life they've led, and everything to do with my own.

I realized, with all my heart, I wanted an investment in another person that would pay out this kind of gold in my old age. I want the finished garment to be seamless. I want more than love, and passion, and adoration- I want *Nirvana. I want the finished product at the end of my life to be whole and unbroken- I want to be saturated and satisfied. I want the kind of bliss I saw this morning between 2 old people holding hands and giving thanks for their simple breakfast.

I think today, for the first time in my life, I saw the PRIZE. I saw it for what it really is. And I feel utterly inept in trying to describe it. Even now as I sit here typing -the tightness in my throat and the tears on my cheeks are all I have to express how I feel. It's pathetic. :)
So much for being a Writer. All I have to show for that title is a wet keyboard...
I'm sorry.

I was called away and didn't get to ask the couple any questions, but I didn't really need to. Sometimes the facts of a matter ding or tarnish the patina of feelings or sentiment.
I didn't want anything to spoil what I was thinking and feeling- so I am at peace about not having the history of their life. Although, if I ever see them again, I will ask :)

In one regard I feel I have a long way to go. On the other hand- I might only have today, or this year. I might only have my companion today, or this year.

I might only have YOU for today.

The Prize, exactly as I saw it this morning, may or may not be mine. I think the Prize is different things to different people, and yet the concept of it is probably universal. I can not describe exactly what it is, and yet I felt it with such force. I know what I saw, but can not convey the depth of what was truly there. Maybe one day, as this event brews in my head and in my heart, I will be able to. I hope so.

I'll be away for the next several days- the ocean is calling. Hope you all have a beautiful weekend :)

For Silence~

The silence gathers-
like darkness after sunset.
All is quiet,
like a tomb.
I waited too long-
He slipped away,
and I did too.

Goodbye friend-
I wave in the silence.
I whisper in the dark...
Take good care,
I miss you,

no reply.

Time is short.
Love is big.
Anger is a waste.
Regret is a waste too.
Communication is important.
Touch is vital.
Tears have meaning words don't.
Opinions are of no consequence.
Rules were made to be broken.

Time is short.
Love is big.

Only when I dream~

"Every time I turn around,
When I'm lost and when I'm found,
Like an angel standing guard-
There you are.."

Except you aren't~

Veritas

"Truth"

It hurts...acually- I think that pain is a good indicator in this regard...
If it hurts- it's probably truth.

I read something this morning that made me say, "OUCH!"

"You have to be willing to opt out of certain relationships in order to give your most important ones the time and attention they require and deserve."

Ugh..."OPT OUT"-

This means choosing to walk away from someone- from a relationship that is dear to you- even if it hurts...for your good, and probably theirs.
And I see that this is truth.

I see that someone has been trying to explain this to me for a while now.

I accept this truth. I see that I need to be focused elsewhere. The slate of my heart needs to be clean~
The problem is that there's something like a pool of cooled lava in one corner- and it's hardened- it's actually become completely attached- and I can't remove it easily-
I'm working on it.

Ouch, ouch, ouch...

Adrideo

"To Smile"


Did it work?