4 am revisited

One of my dearest friends once told me that 4am is a powerful time to speak to the universe.  And almost every weeknight, I am up at .... 4am. 

I'm happy, I'm blessed...but is there something subconciously that I need to speak to the universe about? Or does it need to speak to me, and I just don't listen during the waking hours?

The night is still at this hour..even the bugs are asleep.  and yet the wind chimes next to me are clanging...until I look a them.  Then they stop.

What is the message?  I'm open and ready to receive it or grant it. 

I just wish I knew what it was...

~peace

Facebook Requiem

I will write, I say

And then you call out.

I try to ignore you, but your notifications are so deliciously tempting as they sit unanswered...waiting for me.  Calling for me, unrequited.

It’s so effortless, joining you and oversharing everything I want to do…

instead of doing it.

These words of mine fight tooth and nail not to be written.  But you, you are always there waiting and ready with an open status.

Oh facebook, you are an evil distraction. So alluring, so decadent and wasteful.  So easy to love. 

But you are no good for me.  You make me forget my needs, my goals, my life in any meaningful way.  I must end our monogamous relationship and return my heart to my muse, even though he is a fickle lover.

I long for you, even now, but I must take care of me first.  Me.  Not this shell of a person you’ve left me with. 

Me.  The writer.

Yeah, that’s right.

I'm back.

An Experiment

Once again, I am looking at the hands of the clock shouting 4am at me and mocking me with it's incessant ticking away of my sleepless hours...work inching closer and closer with every tock.

While lying in bed a few moments ago, I realized I was fretting about how I am going to handle the office coldness tomorrow.  I have to say this to that person, be dismissed by this one, ignored by another...and generally acquiesce to demands upon me that hinder my self worth and can even bring me dangerously close to the edge of self loathing.

And then I realized.  No, I don't!

I just have to get my job done to the best of my ability.  If I didn't let them steal my soul while I was there, maybe I wouldn't have panic attacks at 4am on almost every weekday.

I've lost myself somewhere.  I give it all away and leave nothing of me for me. 

So, I'm going to try an experiment.  Since I am only truly me when I am consistently writing, I have decided that every time I start to get anxious at work and lose my way, I am going to stop and spend 5 minutes writing something...anything that does not have to do with work. 

I am going to start a "Me" diary.

And I'm going to take it even a step further.  After work and before I am allowed to start playing around on Facebook, I am going to write something.  Blog, poem, paragraph...something. 

I can put my self worth back into my own hands.

I'll let you know how it goes.

~peace

I miss my friends

I'm watching the sun come up (a very rare occurrence these days), and I'm wondering why I don't do this more often.  The sun yawning and stretching its rays into the treetops to the harmony of the doves' serenade is one of the most peacefully enlightening moments.  I could write every day at this time if I would (i.e., could) just get myself out of bed.  I tend to sleep it all away.  What a mistake.

And last night I realized that I sometimes "sleep away" my most precious friendships.  Different state, different city, different job....and somehow all those special bonds end up lost in the past somewhere.  I move on and almost forget.  I tuck them away somewhere inside where they are safe...almost too safe of a place to ever be found again.  Like a trunk in the attic that you always think you'll revisit someday but that gets pushed into a lonely forgotten corner getting dusty and old on the outside, while inside the photographs and memories stay vivid and alive...waiting.

And then once in a while, my heart just decides it's had enough.  It misses them. I miss them. I yearn for every one of them.  Every smile, every heartbreak....all of it.

And then the miracle happens. 

I reach out to them...and they reach back. I open the trunk, and there they are as colorful and true as the day I tucked them away.  Forgivingly embracing me.  Despite my careless absence, they love me still.

True friends.

I am so thankful for their gift of endless love.

What goes on at 4am

Ok, it's now 5:30am, but I woke up at 4.  Usually, I toss and turn and try to convince (or beg) myself to fall back to sleep, but tonight I got up, turned on some music, warmed up my corn pillow to put on my aching shoulder, and wrote out my thoughts. As tired as I am going to be in 6 hours, at this moment I feel peace. I've gotten it off my chest and out into the universe.  This is much better than the panic I normally feel as I count down the minutes of sleep I am losing.

And then I read some old poetry of mine and came across this from shortly after I moved to Nashville years ago.  More years than I can believe.  It's funny how we think we've changed so much, but then again, not really.

3:17 a.m.

it's 3:17 a.m.
sleep was here
but left early.

too much to think about.
too much to feel.

so i turn on the light,
pick up a pen,
and pretend
to ignore the ache in my neck
caused by the ache
at the center of my chest.

there is a sound to the silence around me.
the refrigerator bellows,
floor creaks,
lightswitch snaps,
pen clicks and hums against the page.
but there are no voices.
no need for conversation
at this early hour,
or when you're alone.

my tiny apartment is chilly
at 3:17 a.m.
so i turn up the heat

but the wood beneath my feet
stays cold.

~peace

Honesty is such a lonely word

Honesty is such a lonely word. (~Billy Joel)

I realized today how often I say something that is not entirely true…or hold myself back from saying something that is true.  I do this to a) not be criticized or b) not hurt someone’s feelings.

Now, I certainly never want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  But there are times when someone is saying or doing something so hurtful to me that I can feel my heart splitting in two. I can feel every blood vessel in my body screaming to burst with tears or punches.  I want to spew fire and hurt back.  I will even draw the bow and pull back the arrow of retaliation with full intent to shoot and kill, but

Bite your tongue.

Bite your tongue

Bite your tongue.

And I do.  Even when inside I want to scream “how could you, how could you, how could you?!”

I have issues.  We all do.  But the people I respect the most are those that stand up and say “Yes, I am fucked up…but this is ME…accept it or move on.”  To my dismay, I am not yet one of those people.

However, I am wholly aware of my shortcomings, as, I suspect, are most people of their own. 

So why judge, try to reign over or to make changes that are not yours to make?

Look in the mirror.  Look hard and honestly.  Imagine hurtful words strewn across your brow by someone who does not know you and has not walked in your shoes.  Turn your critical eye on yourself.

If you don’t see it…look a little longer.  And when you finally recognize the bloodied and bruised fossils of those who have unjustly judged you, maybe then you’ll realize.  Maybe we all will.

Don’t allow it…and don’t do it.

This is as much a message to my own self as it is to anyone reading this.

Peace.

You may look like a celebrity, but you're no Picasso

I watched "Midnight in Paris" the other night, and it lifted my creative spirit high, high, high.  The days of unfettered karmic kinship must have been so fulfilling, so enlightening, so free and trusting...the reason that Paris in the 20's changed the world of creativity...and to me, the world in general.  They took in everything and everyone because they FELT it.  There was no considering whether this person or that was someone weird or not like the others or not to be trusted.  They were FREE of that baggage.  They just loved and felt, and laughed, and created, and created, and created. Or at least that's my ideal take on it.

Today, instead of seeing the lonely artist sitting next to us...or on the curb or walking alone...we see someone that could be a stalker, a killer, or at the very least, a weird person of whom we must beware.

What has happened?

I know I am not the most outwardly social person, but I still recognize the priceless value of interacting with the person sitting next to me. 

Yes, the world can be scary, but if we lose touch with each other personally, what do we have left? A computer screen?

People still mistake kindness to be weakness...or even worse, weirdness.  If someone talks to you in line at lunch does your skin crawl or does your soul see another human  being?

I've had stalkers...the world can be scary.  But let's not let the minority of our personal experiences become the majority of how we interact with the world.  We all need each other.

love.