Cheers Darlin’

Here’s to the beginning

Of a tragic end

Here’s to where we lasted

No broken hearts shall mend

Here’s to your shallow lies

And my broken words

Here’s to singing the chorus

Knowing it will never be heard

Here’s to telling me all your secrets

And for me keeping all of mine

Here’s to the broken hearted

And the foolish kind

Here’s to why we laugh

And why we cry alone

Here’s to a new beginning for you

Here’s to the end of me.

 

-found poetry

 

The hammer and the Nail

There’s a dream in the  space between the hammer and the nail: the dream of about-to-be-hit- which is a bad dream, but the nail will  take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever.

– Richard Siken

 

Frame

“It’s funny how the beauty of art has so much more to do with the frame than the artwork itself.”

― Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

Daily Photo Challenge 

Thursday Musing

I do believe in an everyday sort of magic – the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.

― Charles de Lint

Designed For

I’m not designed to be a mother
I’m not designed to be a wife
I’m not designed to follow the rules
I’m not designed to run with the crowd

I’m not designed for friendship
I’m not designed for one place
I’m not designed to be his
I’m not designed for happiness

But I am designed for loyalty, integrity, dignity
I am designed for truth, for values, for honesty
I am designed for kindness, empathy, generosity
I am designed for courage, for adventure, for identity

I am designed for justice, for support, for inspiration
I am designed for building, creating, inventing
I am designed for poetry, for art, for writing
I am designed for essence, for beauty, for nature

I’m not designed for music
I’m not designed for fame
I’m not designed for fortune
I’m not designed for stage

I’m not designed to dance
I’m not designed to sing
I’m not designed to shine
I’m not designed for attention

I’m designed for rainbow
I am designed for rain
I am designed for storms
I am designed for bravery

I am designed to be a maverick
I am designed to roam around
I am designed to be independent, a nomad, a gypsy
I am not designed for restriction

I am designed to be free…

True Love

One cup of moonlight,

Two drops of rain;

A thimbleful of sunbeams–

Three pints of pain.

A mind seduced by shadows,

A barrelful of lies;

Half an ounce of hope–

A bucketful of sighs.

An eye full of lust,

A hat tipped in scorn;

A spoonful of poison–

And true love is born.

– found poetry

 

Daily Prompt 

Fifty

That would be me next year.

An age I thought I will never reach. I still can’t believe it. Is it that long already since I made my first step? There was a time I thought thirty was old. That was when through my naivety and honesty the couple I was working for as a nanny found out that the thirty year old brother of the wife was having an affair with the nineteen year old housemaid.

I needed her for something and came looking for her upstairs. They always disappear there after lunch. Applying lotion on some skin disease they told me. I even heard her shouting sometimes. From the pain I thought. The master bedroom was locked and they didn’t want to open the door even though I was almost close to breaking it down. When they finally admitted me in I saw him on the front of the electric fan sweating and half naked. She was dressed and was sitting on the bed with the bath towel (of the wife) under her looking disheveled and strange.

I think nothing of it. The thoughts that normally accompany such situations were then still unknown to me. I grew up in the middle of nowhere isolated and secluded with only my family around me. Five sisters and one brother- the youngest. My father was hardly around. We had no close friends. I had no one to draw on carnal knowledge and everything surrounding it.

When the couple came home and the wife reached for the towel to take a bath I reacted strongly. When she asked why I said it was dirty. I didn’t know why I said that. Maybe because I believe even then that personal items are personal. If others used them, they automatically become dirty. One thing lead to another and all the hell broke lose. The maid had been sent away and the brother saw me as a replacement or potential victim. But that was for another blog post.

I remember thinking then that thirty was old. He was old. He had no business having sex. I thought when people are that old, they are palliative. Waiting for the inevitable. I realized later that we are all terminal since birth. There is only one sure thing for us sooner or later- the graves. No one can avoid death. Rich poor, ugly beautiful, famous and unknown. We will all die.

I was fifteen then. I will be fifty next year. This Friday I’m going to reach my forty-nine years of walking on this planet. Do I feel old? Emotionally, no. Physically… we will not go there. Too much to talk about.

Youth

Oh, youth… I envy their youth-ness.

I am not a jealous person but I wish I knew then what I know now. I will take better care of my physical being. I will broaden my horizons even farther, greater. I will wear my mistakes with pride and commit sins more often. I will taste life with more gusto, drink deeply and enjoy with abandon. I will live to the fullest.

Oh, youth… I envy them their future. The amount of time left to do what their hearts desire, to be what they want to be. I envy their courage, their enthusiasm, their energy. Why it is that we realize what matters the most when it’s (almost) already too late?

Oh, youth… I envy their smooth skin, tight little bodies and radiant smiles. I envy their ability to process everything quickly, to absorb and learn naturally. I envy their carelessness and total abandonment. The nonchalant manner they deal with the world. Their confidence and dreams.

I wish I can bring back the time.

I wish I can be young again.

 

Rare

A rare and strange looking building where my other half works.

The Freedom Of The Moon

I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air
Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster
As you might try a jewel in your hair.
I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of luster,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water start almost shining.

I put it shining anywhere I please.
By walking slowly on some evening later,
I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees,
And brought it over glossy water, greater,
And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow,
The color run, all sorts of wonder follow. 

– Robert Frost

Ghost

Ghosts of the past…

I have a lot of those.

Never go away…

Taken up permanent residence. 

Perhaps I invited them unknowingly 

Living there most of the time myself

Maybe they are all in my head

Where all the stories usually played

They chase my fears around but

Keeping them alive and strong

I let them, sustain them entertain them

Better than being alone or

Facing the reality that 

This life is nothing but empty.

Empty.

 

I Didn’t Quit My Marriage; I survived It

Every woman I know who is now divorced fought like hell to save her marriage—before finally deciding to save herself instead.

At a certain point, we realize that the ship is sinking, and so many of us have children who need rescuing. So, yes, we get off the damn ship and start looking for a lifeboat—a whole new life.

We didn’t give up.

We saved ourselves, saved our children.

We didn’t quit our marriages; we survived them.

When we realize that we can’t single-handedly make a relationship with another person work, we have to choose ourselves. We begin to hear our hearts screaming for us to get out. We begin to honor our intuition, which tells us that this situation isn’t healthy for us, that we must do whatever it takes to make our lives better. We figure out that we cannot save our partner, that they are no longer our partners when they choose not to fight for the relationship.

We realize the relationship is over already, and we begin to take the steps to make that final.

We take the steps toward divorce, no matter our circumstances, no matter how difficult it will be to live without this relationship or the financial support of being coupled. We leave no matter how counterintuitive it is to walk away from something in which we’ve invested so much of our lives. We leave, all the while grieving what our children will have to experience as the children of divorced parents.

This isn’t a matter of giving up or quitting. This is a matter of accepting things as they are and choosing to live the best life that we can.

I’ve found that many of us come out of these trials only to be painted as the villains. We become the bad guys in another’s story, because that is so much easier. And when we go through a divorce, we often lose the support of people we had long considered family as they choose to believe this story.

Divorce isn’t easy, no matter how it may seem from the outside. It changes us in so many ways, and it often makes it more difficult to trust others. It’s important to support one another through these difficult times.

The support we need is often just a listening ear.

We don’t need unsolicited advice or the secret to how your marriage has worked. We don’t need judgment or commentary about how easily people leave their marriages these days. We don’t even need encouragement about our future relationship prospects at this point. We need our support system to stand strong with us through the process.

I was deeply private about my divorce when I went through it. No one can completely understand a relationship from the outside, and I’ve been mindful of respecting the relationship between my ex and our children. I share the story of my journey through—and coming out the other side—in hopes of helping others hold on the difficult days that seem impossible to manage.

If I can offer a lifeline to someone who feels like they’re going down with the ship, then I’ve turned my struggle into something strong and beautiful.

Divorce has been transformative for me. It’s been the catalyst for many new life choices. I’ve been able to dream again and create the kind of life with my children that I’ve always wanted. It’s allowed me to be strong, and perhaps more authentic than I’ve ever been. Sure, I lost my ability to tolerate any level of bullsh*t, but in losing that particular filter, I’ve been able to be real and raw about my struggles, which has allowed me to build closer relationships with the people I love.

I processed all of the old stories I’ve always relied on to define me, and began to create a new life story for myself.

I’ve started unpacking my baggage and traveling a hell of a lot lighter, endlessly manifesting joy and turning my pain into beauty.

We can allow our struggles to define us or transform us, and in the difficult process of simply bearing up under them, it’s essential that we feel love and support around us. In the end, we did whatever it took to save ourselves when we could no longer save our relationship.

When I see another man or woman struggling through that process, I often offer a kind word and a listening ear, knowing that they would certainly rather have the happy marriage with the promise of forever than the divorce court and legal fees and heartache of a dissolving union.

We’re not giving up; we’re choosing to live the best lives we can under challenging circumstances.

We’re not quitting; we’re choosing to survive, to thrive and to create joyful lives.

~ Author: Crystal Jackson via Elephant Journal Original article here.

 

 

Complicated

I lay in the dark thinking about the difficulties of family, how crazy and crooked the stories of a bloodline can be.

— Patrick deWitt

Daily Prompt