Random Act of Kindness

"Goodness in other people and what they contribute inspire me. I love it when someone is gifted and shares it in some way so that it has a trickle-down effect." ~ Renee Zellweger

I was going to write this blog about dreams ... the ways in which they can be used as tools to help in our waking moments. But something else is pulling at my attention right now, so, dreams will have to wait until next time.

As I'd mentioned awhile back in my pretty raw stream of conscious writing about covering the Chardon High School shooting in Portrait of a 21st Century Journalist ... I've since been writing ensuing stories. One of my most recent had to do with a crew from Virginia Tech coming to Chardon to roll out their Actively Caring 4 People program (www.ac4p.org). You can read more about it in that link, but part of this program includes these green rubber bracelets, much like we've seen for other causes, i.e. cancer. The idea behind it being, if you see a complete stranger perform a random act of kindness or you see they could use a caring gesture, you pass the bracelet on. Then, they are to do the same.

After the Virginia Tech shooting, 40,000 bracelets were distributed as part of this program and to date, they have traveled all over the world.

It's a simple concept, but complex when you really think about it in terms of yourself and your every day actions. I mean, how often do you do something nice for a stranger, let alone random gestures of kindness to those you love on a daily basis? And why is it so hard for us to walk up to complete strangers who are clearly in distress and ask how we can help? Or maybe something as simple as complimenting something about someone you don't know ... or holding a door for them. I'm not saying there aren't people out there who do this all the time, but if you really think about it in terms of frequency, at least in my experience, it's not very common these days.

The idea behind this program is to get people to empower themselves every day by even just these small gestures to show others they are cared for and matter. Seems kind of simple ... maybe even preachy, but it really hit me. The main guy leading the Virginia Tech movement was a pretty profound speaker, so I'm sure that was part of it, too. But he gave me one of those bracelets. And up until today, I hadn't found the right moment, experience or person to give it to.

I'd been grasping onto this bracelet like it was gold. Yet, it was a simple, green, rubber bracelet. But in my mind, it was going to mean something more. And whoever I gave it to, I had a feeling it was going to be a stranger. Throughout the last two and a half weeks, I'd had moments where I thought someone may deserve it, but something always held me back inside.

I was sitting in Panera today having an iced coffee while doing some editing when two men sat down in a booth diagonally from me. I made brief eye contact with the one man, but his eyes looked fiercely unsettled, so I quickly looked back at my screen. Moments later, I heard him start to tell the other man (who I assume was a good friend) about how his kidney failure has progressed, how he'd seen "another physician" today and the diagnosis wasn't much better, about how the dialysis and medication he's on affects everything, his sleep, his daily routines, the finances, about how rough his day was and how he was losing faith ... he was crying.

I tried hard to mind my own business, but I couldn't bring myself to ignore it. Suddenly, I looked down at my right wrist, at my bracelet ... and it hit. He was getting this bracelet. There was nothing more to it. I knew it in that moment. But I was terrified. I may be a journalist, but it's never been easy for me to approach strangers. It's one thing to do it when I know it's my job. It's another when I'm compelled to initiate a conversation with someone I don't know for a reason that could come out sounding a bit crazy.

Yet, I couldn't ignore it. My heart began to race, my social anxiety began to fester, but I stood up, walked over and said, "Excuse me. There's this bracelet program I'm a part of. And it's about passing a bracelet on if you see someone do a random act of kindness or if you think they just need a gesture of caring. I think you could use one ... so I'm giving mine to you."

I handed it to him and he looked taken aback, as did his friend. He said "Thank you ... I had a really rough day today."

I said, "You're welcome. Now, all you have to do is pass it on to someone who does something nice for you or someone else."

He immediately put the bracelet on, thanked me again, as did his friend, and I walked out ... my hands slightly trembling and heart pounding. Something so seemingly easy, yet it was so scary for some reason. Yet afterward, I felt elated ... and a warmth swarmed my insides in a way I haven't felt in some time.

It was then, I truly felt the power behind a simple, kind gesture. And that's when I really "got it," really got the message behind this movement.

I hope everyone who reads this tries it tomorrow.  You don't need a bracelet to make someone smile.

Sure, this man may have thought I was crazy ... but something inside me tells me he's going to remember that moment for days, weeks, months and maybe years to come.

And maybe ... just maybe, I gave him a little bit of faith back.

~C~

Antiquated Love

“A house with old furniture has no need of ghosts to be haunted.” ~ Hope Mirrlees

Antiques have been a passion of mine for some time. Those close to me know this. But I never really go into detail about why, exactly. And quite frankly, I'm not altogether sure myself why collecting them fills my insides with a mixture of warmth, mystery, curiosity, imagination, haunting and comfort.

It's the same with classic films and songs ... or fitting covers, like this one I listen to on rainy days: Madeleine Peyroux

It's something that started when I was a kid, always drawn to "old things," whether around my parents' house or my grandma's house. It seemed like what was someone's overlooked junk, was my treasure. But as I grew older, I started searching for particular pieces, phones especially. I have a couple of antique ones now, one from the early 1930s with a brass earpiece ... and another, well ... the story behind this one is interesting.

I'd say at least 15, 16 years ago, I started searching for what is called a "candlestick" phone, which is one of those upright 1920s phones that is sleek like a candlestick with a hook on the side that the earpiece hangs from. I would literally walk into every antique store I came across and search and ask. No one ever said "yes, we have one" — until last month.

It's strange. The two most significant pieces (to me) I've ever found, an old Underwood typewriter, circa 1890s, and this candle stick phone, have been while on vacation ... and often at a time when I was going through a lot or just in the midst of an intense period of self growth — kind of searching, yearning for something to set my heart aflame.

This time was no different.

I was walking with my friend Katie in Savannah last month and we saw an Antique mall. She told me to go in, but I had been ready to pass by, having gotten to a point over the years of thinking I'd never stumbled upon the piece "naturally" and would have to look for one online.

So I walk in anyway, just glance through and am about to leave, when something inside me tells me to ask the woman at the counter anyway. So I do. She practically jumps up "Why yes! We do have one. Let me take you to it!"

If someone could have seen my face, they probably would have had to gently close my slightly parted lips and aghast expression. She explained that an older man came in a week or so ago and asked for that very same piece, specifically, and out of nowhere. She told him they didn't have it because she didn't realize what style phone he'd meant. The owner of the store berated her, since it's a rare piece these days and the guy probably would have paid for it. So as soon as I asked, she knew right away.

I heard all this, but I just kept staring at it ... black, brass, so many conversations once trilled through its mouth and earpiece, trembled through its now tattered phone cord. It was beautiful. It would be a splurge.

But I had to have it.

The woman looked at me and said, "I guess it's a good thing I made that mistake. It was meant to be."

As soon as it was placed in my hands, I felt my heart swell with a thousand emotions. Disbelief the greatest. I mean, this is something I've been searching to find for at least 15 years. In fact, I've had several friends looking for it as well.

Now it's mounted on a stand in my place. And, like my Underwood typewriter, every time I look at it, I feel nostalgic for a time I've never actually seen ... well in this life anyway.

Yet, call it the "old soul" in me, but antiques somehow give me a sense of "home." And to tie in with my quote, they haunt me, too ... but in beautiful ways. I wonder who owned them, what their life story was. In the case of the typewriter — obviously symbolic to my own passion — what words were born through the touch of its keys? What stories were told, letters written ... secrets unfolded?

With the phone, I imagine it may have been in a hotel down south somewhere, witness to various discourse, maybe laughter, tears, tension. I'm not sure why certain pieces pull me in like a moth to a flame, but these ones do.

And now, I've been able to cross one more off my list.

I can only dare to dream where and when I'll find the next ...

~C~

The "In Between"

Having spent the better part of my life trying either to relive the past or experience the future before it arrives, I have come to believe that in between these two extremes is peace.  ~ Author Unknown

Feeling in a place I sometimes call the "in between." It's this place where I'm feeling so many different emotions across the spectrum at once, I almost feel I'm "in between" all of them, like a moving target.

Tonight, I'm also struggling a bit with fixating on things that make me anxious ... whether it's fixating on a person or memory or something in the present that is hard to comprehend or face. Fixating on the future ... the past. So the above quote is one I've been looking back on here and there as the days age past me. And it grounds me a bit. I keep remembering that now is truly all I've got. 

Sad things are going on around me lately, sad stories, hardships. Even today, it may seem on a smaller scale compared to some of the truly tragic or painful things people have or are going through right now, but my neighbor's dog ran out and was hit and killed by a car. I don't say this to bring you all down ... but it hit home with me hard, as I'd lost my first dog almost 8 years ago that same way. It devastated me at the time. I was only 20. But today, it just drove home the point that life is short and can truly be gone in a flicker of a moment. In a moment, everything can change. In a moment, our lives, as we know them, can disappear like a wisp of smoke caught up in a breeze. 


Sure, it's an anxious thought to mull over. No one wants to feel like they're lives are completely out of their control ... or that we're blindfolded while standing at the edge of a precipice. I don't recommend fixating on something like that. But I do think it's important to glance back on the concept that life is as fragile as the stem of a glass, to keep things in perspective when we're having bad days (as I am today). To remember good days are often right around the corner, but we have to first make the most of what we've got in front of us. To quit ignoring the cliches "Carpe Diem" or "Live in the moment," or "Life is short." And to start actually BELIEVING those things. After all, cliches don't become so for no reason.

I also tend to be a sponge to the people, environment/atmospheres or situations around me, to my friends' troubles, people I care about who are hurting or family members' woes. It's hard to put up that mental "white shield" sometimes. Like tonight.


Yet I continue to remember I'm living and breathing right now. And there CAN be peace found in this moment if I choose to find it and feel it. I recently took a trip to Savannah, GA with my best friend Katie as my "plus one" for a wedding I was in. We had a wonderful time there. Oftentimes, I go on vacation to "think" or find some kind of answer. In the past anyhow, that's always seemed to happen. But this time, I decided it wasn't going to be about soul searching, it was going to be about living. Simply living. Enjoying the moment and not thinking a thing about the past or future. And for the most part, I was actually able to succeed in this venture. And I felt myself physically transforming, even just in those days. I felt my heart lighten and my soul breathe ... I felt my mind stretch its tense muscles a bit and feel at ease and my emotions took on a slightly breezy, elated form. I felt a brief, but true reprieve.


Yes, I had to come back home and face things and life. And I am. But I keep grasping at that feeling of respite whenever I feel overwhelmed by life. And so far, I've been able to rein things back in and taste a bit of that peace again, even if just for a moment, when I'm able to suspend everything else pressing in on me. Because when I AM embracing the "now," I find that's where all the living happens.


It doesn't happen in the past ... and it doesn't happen in the future. The living happens right now. The peace is there, too, if I allow myself to feel it and breathe it. So that's kind of where I'm at right now. That's the chapter I'm in. And as the pages continue to turn, I'll continue to write them ...


Till next time ...


~C~

Rainy Days

There is something about the rain that has this paradoxical affect on me. There's this simple quote by Roger Miller that I often think of: "Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet."

I've been partial to both, depending on the day, my disposition and the things going on in my life or inside me at the time the waters cascade. Kind of like my post The Night Phenomenon, rain seems to soak into my skin, through my veins and bones right into the very center of me. It's this uncomfortable, melancholy, familiar, comforting, aching feeling that makes it hard to feel drenched in gloom. Yet, in the right company or mindset, rain can ignite the imagination, can illuminate the ordinary, can paint a sheen on the simplest of things, wash away the dirt of the daily grind, rejuvenate, purify, cleanse and nourish. It can also bring out the passion in me, the rawness, the purest parts of my soul and my humanity.

So, it really does come down to the atmosphere around us, within us and our will to shift perspectives. Today, the dreary, doleful skies are putting a damper on my heart. But at the same time, I'm watching so many people outside walking under weeping clouds, some laughing as though it doesn't bother them in the least bit, others plowing through with the sole driving force being shelter. Whatever the case, they're walking. In the past, I've simply just stood, tears mixed with droplets soaking my skin. In those times, I just got wet.

But today, I can see the beauty in the misty backdrop and despite the sadness amidst me and many of us, the rain can be a blanket of comfort, a reminder of warmer, kindled times, playful times. It sings to my heart today, melancholy mixed with love.

Each raindrop kissing my eyelashes, gently reminding me of the days when I jumped in their puddles.

~C~

The Physics of the Quest

It's been awhile since I've quoted Elizabeth Gilbert ... if only she knew how prominent a voice and presence she has been in my life the last few years. Especially the latter half of this quote tonight:

“I've come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call 'The Physics of The Quest'— a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity or momentum. And the rule of Quest Physics maybe goes like this: 'If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting(which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments)and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared — most of all — to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself....then truth will not be withheld from you.' Or so I've come to believe.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

I've been on a "journey" of sorts for awhile now. But the truth is, I'm only now facing things I've been avoiding for years and years. And what's more, the universe is throwing so many different things at me at once, it's hard to breathe some days. Like today.

They're not all bad things, but a lot of them are very hard things. I guess if nothing else, it's teaching me that if I keep leaving loose ends my whole life — unfixed issues, unrealized fears, unfelt emotions, unclosed chapters, unhealed scars —They will, indeed, find me. And they'll often be magnified ... and will often pull the rug right out from under me. At least, the last few instances have. The "good" thing is, it gets my attention, which, I'm sure is exactly what that higher power has intended. Because I'm awfully good at pretending those loose ends and issues aren't there. I'm good at evading. But in many ways, over the last several months, things have happened to me or I've experienced things that made me finally "see." Whether it was seeing I was in something unhealthy. Whether it was seeing I had some very deep seated issues with intimacy, whether it was seeing I had scars that go way back as well as more recent ones I hadn't wanted to face, or whether it was coming face to face with my own shortfalls, fixations, selfish aspects and insecurities ... my own fears.

Regardless, in the last seven or eight months, I've felt like the woman I see in the mirror when I stand before my boxing bag — my wrists and knuckles wrapped in black, my hair swept back and my body completely on guard, adrenaline pulsing through me as I wait for the next imagined move, as I deliver a punch to every hurdle, as I block myself from every hit ... but not always in time ... not always quick enough to avoid the air being knocked out of me. Yet I always get back up. This unhealthy place I was once in ... yeah, I got back up. The hurts I've caused, I'm learning from. The pain I feel now, the pain I've felt before, the ways I've been hit in the past, I've learned how to swivel around ... the ways I've hit back, the ways I've risen from a blow ... all of it. All of it reminds me of that woman in the mirror.

In those moments, when I am punching that bag, I feel invincible. When all other times, I feel weak and vulnerable. And I wish I could hold on to those moments long after I leave my hand wraps on the table, after I towel my face off and look at my eyes in mirror — dark, grounded, strong, fierce, passionate, peaceful — I wish I could keep her front and center. One day I will.

That day is just not today.

But knowing she's within me ... actually seeing her in those moments ...  that is worth the work and the wait.

However, along this journey I've been on, I've not always chosen to see everyone I've encountered as a teacher. I've chosen to see some as such, here and there, but I haven't chosen to see them all that way. And I certainly haven't always been ready to face the tough realities or harsh truths about myself that I am facing more and more today ... the ways in which I've run, the ways in which I've hurt, the ways in which I've let my own issues and fears dictate my actions, etc. for a long time. But, I guess all I can say now is, better late ... than never.

And the universe seems to agree ... and I think, quite frankly, has run out of patience for me. I can be exasperatingly stubborn.

But glancing back on my timeline, once the rug is ripped out from under me or my face has been slapped, I've learned the lesson at hand. I've learned it hard, but I've learned it. So, Elizabeth ... yes. I'm going to try my hardest to see everyone and everything as a teacher. I've always craved to learn every single day, craved to expand. And here it's been, in my face, constantly ... in those around me, those important to me ... even those in passing. And I've only caught a handful of lessons ... when there have been so many more to learn.

So as I keep walking, facing hurdles and searching for that strength while trying my hardest not to revert to my past "easy way outs," I'll continue to keep the wise Gilbert's words in mind ...

And I will keep boxing.

~C~

Insecurities

Jealousy is simply and clearly the fear that you do not have value.  Jealousy scans for evidence to prove the point — that others will be preferred and rewarded more than you.  There is only one alternative — self-value.  If you cannot love yourself, you will not believe that you are loved.  You will always think it's a mistake or luck.  Take your eyes off others and turn the scanner within.  Find the seeds of your jealousy, clear the old voices and experiences.  Put all the energy into building your personal and emotional security. Then you will be the one others envy, and you can remember the pain and reach out to them.  ~ Jennifer James

So, this is gonna be a rough one to talk about. But it's one that I figured I'd sit down and write at some point. 

Who likes to talk about insecurities? For me, it's a feeling. If I had to describe it, it's a pang in my heart, a burning in my chest, but feels like it goes deeper than that. It flushes through my veins like a throbbing pinprick and makes my heart pound. Insecurity, jealousy, envy, bad patterns.

But then, my pride decides I'm far too "above" all this jealousy business. So it tries to snuff it out, tries to paint the mask of security and confidence where none exists. Tries to ignore it. And then the insecurities manifest themselves within me and point their daggers inward ... and the cuts are too much to bear anymore.


So, I'm done with that. My pride can sit this one out. 

I've always been insecure, ever since I was a child. I felt like I never belonged. I felt like I was never fully understood. I was a Tom boy, but still girly. I was a lot more outgoing though, as a kid. I was always getting in trouble for talking during class. I was the one doing the chasing when it came to boys. And I loved playing in the dirt. 


Then, something just ... changed. I don't know when exactly, I suppose around puberty. And I became more introverted, shyer. I remember being 13 and riding the school bus to middle school and these 8th grade boys were on the bus, too ... and well, the one ended up doing inappropriate things to me. Nothing extreme, but definitely took me off guard. And he acted as though he had every right, yet I barely knew him. It was really the first interaction of that kind I'd had with a boy ... and I froze up and just let him. 


It's strange, because I haven't thought about that experience — and this happened more than one time on that bus — in a long time,  until recently, as I've been delving into patterns I've had over the years and figuring out when they started and how to break them.

This blog itself has become a HUGE pattern breaker for me. I'd never had the courage to write about these things, let alone share them with you all and put my immense trust in you as a result. But here I am. Doing just that.


So, that was the first time (that I can recall anyhow) where something was being done that I wasn't OK with but allowed. As I'd written about at the start of this blog, my realization is that what happened to me later on at that house party was a continuation — albeit much more severe — of that kind of reaction. Yes, I was vocally clear about things then, but still, I froze up and didn't fight back either.

I don't know why I react that way, but at least I've now gotten an idea of when that change happened. I do know that the feeling I felt on the bus was confusion. I remember ... that was the first real time I ignored my "instincts" and instead convinced myself what was happening was OK and normal. And that dialogue has become a regularity in my mind since. And it unfortunately led to worse situations and outcomes. 


I remember feeling like I was not pretty enough then ... that I could never possibly compare to all the other cute girls in my class. I remember feeling inadequate, a late bloomer, awkward, an outcast. So if a boy was showing me attention, surely that means I'm worth something.


That pattern has been going on ever since I was little though. I'm not sure why ... and what's more, I never acted on any of the attention I'd actually get, I'd run the other way actually. Yeah, I was that girl. And it's been this double edged sword since. Because nowadays, despite "running," my heart and emotions are almost always affected. Even when I try to "pretend" they aren't. So this defense mechanism doesn't do much by means of defense these days. Maybe it had its place then, to protect me somehow, but if so, it's long over stayed its welcome.


Anyhow, my point in talking about all of this is, these insecurities I've felt ever since I can remember fuel jealousy and envy. But for me in particular, I turn jealousy and envy inward, which ... sure I don't hurt anyone else in the process, but I hurt myself. I hurt myself in the worst ways. It's just another way I try to absorb things and self sacrifice, like I have with men. It's something I've allowed myself to do that hasn't benefited me at all. In the past, I'm pretty sure it's contributed to me freezing up, to me disassociating when something overwhelming was going on around me or to me, to me running and shielding myself, to me both yearning for a relationship with someone and being terrified of them.


And I'm tired. My body and mind are tired. So I'm going to do the exact opposite and turn it outward. Acknowledge it, get it out of me and put it here. And I'm going to take it a step farther. For every insecure and jealous feeling I have right now and have had off and on for awhile, I'm going to acknowledge something about me that I believe makes me worth something. Because like the below O'Connor quote, I think it's vital for all of us to do this every time we feel insecure or lost.


Envy is a symptom of lack of appreciation of our own uniqueness and self worth.  Each of us has something to give that no one else has.  ~Elizabeth O'Connor


I'll never be truly happy  — I have been happy many times in the past. I will be happy again. I feel it inside me with a certainty I cannot ignore. And that voice has never steered me wrong once.


Everyone and everything else is moving and changing around me and I am being left behind — I am moving and changing with everything around me. I have never been left behind. I am holding hands with the most important people and elements in my life ... and they are holding mine.


I will never be enough — I will always be enough, because when I truly embrace myself, who I am, what I have to offer, all the amazing things inside me aching to be shared, all of my gifts, my inner beauty, the question of whether or not I am enough doesn't even exist


I have so many mental and emotional scars, how will I ever trust myself again? — I have been blessed with a great sense of spirituality and an inward dialogue with my higher Self since I was very young. That guidance has never wavered ... I just haven't always chosen to listen. I am listening again. And I will trust again.


If I let someone go, I shouldn't get envious or jealous about the ways they've moved on — But when I love, despite my efforts to guard my heart, I love deep and true ... and I'm not superhuman. The feeling is evidence that someone affected me. It's an evidence of life and I'm choosing to turn it into something positive.


I will never gain my footing — I have pretty strong guides inward and around me. I will always regain my footing. My soul insists upon it.



I will never let go in love the way I once did — Oh yes, indeed, I most definitely will. I must love myself again first ... and I will. And when it happens, I'll never take it for granted again. When it happens, it will be for the right reasons. When it happens, I will pour all I have to give to help it grow ... and when it happens, I will be at a place where I truly see all the reasons I am loved.


I will never not be scared of men — I come from a long line of very strong, independent women. I know the very one inside of me, too. She flutters past my eyes on a daily basis now. One day, she will take up permanent residence. And she will never allow herself to be treated badly again. She will never treat someone in kind. And she will never allow things to be OK that are not OK. 


I will never be ... — I will be.


~C~

Swallowed Heart

So, I'm feeling a bit subdued tonight, despite the warm weather. It did lift my spirits a bit, but all in all, my heart feels ... well, if I had to describe it, it feels full and heavy.

But there's also this feeling of life underneath the heaviness, if that makes any sense. Sort of like a rosebud coated in ashes. It may be buried beneath soot and it may just go overlooked, but I have to believe it'll grow again. I just have to.

It's hard sometimes, for people to understand why someone stays in an unhealthy situation for so long. In my case, it made me question my entire ability to read someone, to have faith in something that felt so real at the time ... hell, I can only speak for myself, but it was real to me.

Promises are scary things ... if I let them, they have the ability to feed my every weakness. They have the ability to capture my loyalty and lock it up for months ... for years ... in this case.

Part of my current melancholy is the rawness of breaking patterns. Of feeling the loss of someone and something that, for good and bad, altered me. Just feeling. I know it's part of this "process" I'm currently working through, but it really robs me of smiles these days. It makes me cry some nights.

The fuel of friendships, positive forces in my life, my own progress in rebuilding myself and a sense of independence are currently what sustains me. I'm done creating situations where someone (a guy in most cases) feels like they need to swoop in and rescue me. I'll be just fine.

But ... that doesn't mean loneliness doesn't set in at times.

So, I feel the heartbeat of poetry thrumming inside me right now. Though it'll be more of a stream of conscious kind of flow I think. It'll be more of the same ... I'm sure, but as I've written past posts/short stories about some of the bad, haunting, ugly stuff I've experienced; that's not what pulled me in ... no. Motives and outcomes aside, that's not what kept a part of me holding on for so long, believing for so long. And I think it's time to finally write out and release some of the stuff that did ...

Swallowed Heart

Words ... so many words, everything, nothing, talking to you was as easy as breathing.
Nature, hand in hand, following breath against the earthy fall breeze
A sudden pause, a turn, eyes lit with emotion, "God, you are a beautiful creature," ... blushes, glances to the side, heart racing.
"Thank you."
All the confusion, the fear, the trepidation swept aside ... by piercing irises the color of the sky
Should I trust?
Hand flutters to my cheek
Yes ... yes I trust.
Eyes delve deep ... I can no longer look away, you
So many nothings I spoke, but they were my most wonderful somethings
Your eyes spoke them, could it be?
Home ... familiar somehow, warmth, life, my best friend
Is that what this feels like?
Everything slow, connected, nothing rushed
Is that why it worked so well? That's me ... that's the key to me
How could you know?
You knew ... you knew me
Fields, sweet breezes, kisses in the rain
Dancing on the tops of your feet, girly, giddy
Piggy back rides, how I loved and hated when you swept me up
Languidly sprawled out atop rose petals upon blankets
Your full mouth, chords low, bringing to life the pages before you
Igniting my insides
Poetry, inspiration, dreaming ... my muse
Butterfly kisses, giggles, belly laughs
Love ... love
Picnics, scavenger hunt ... flowers, you.
Stagnancy brought to life ... me
Your eyes uncertain what I see, I pause, I look at you,
"Passion. Spirit. Beauty"
So easy then, once I was in, to say it all as it flowed through me
To pour it all out, bringing tears to your eyes
Whispers against my ears, smiles that touched your temples
You called me soft ... you were once soft, too
Your lap, arms around me, guitar strumming against the wind
Words, so many words
Delicate hand to my lowered chin, lifting me up to meet you
Friendship, promises of old and gray
Love
For all the black, every story has white
And this ...
This was mine

~C~