after too many colorless sailing days. a swell of gold highlights harbor. ahoy. i have landed. washed up on familiar shores. with boulders built from eroded memories. to rediscover lost loves that were always there. guides. faintly fizzing in crashing waves. waiting to carry me back. willing. across the stress seas. to exciting uneven ground. that induce the need for ready.
fear. that fickle captor. bringing about constraint. blinders. convincing there is safety behind the ignorance. in the forgetful fog of contentment. but the doubtful chants begin to quietly echo. question existence. divide down my layers to a remainder of vulnerability. naked. exposed. in the raw openness is where change dawns. and one can finally dare to peek out of the darkness.
abundance adorns itself in simplicity. smiles exchanged by passing strangers. spontaneous hip rocks to unheard tunes. blowing seeds of hope to future dreams. these tiny gems glow on the lengthy necklace of life. link together in a dazzling display. a brilliant peacefulness. complete. where one feels grateful to harbor health. content to live fully. and find excitement when wishes come alive.
in the future pink and leather will reign. where foreign fields beg exploring. and bodies move in snazzy sways. a time for reconnecting. with self, sky and others. to break from social orders. and accept what comes my way. a rocketwoman. eagerly donning my helmet. ready to answer the cosmo’s choral calling. and time reminds me to launch now or never.
words choked back. clogged. stuffed down by imposing forces. the world demands a brave facade. while the unspoken stormily torments inside. they come surfacing. longing to be heard. to be free. only to be clipped by cupped hands. silenced by ridiculous circumstance. but there may come a chance. a time. when these words can carry out their fight song.
when it’s around my legs transform into cinder blocks. my appetite shrinks to unadventurous. and where excitement should be budding i find a void. even the summer sun cannot sway me from my devotion to procrastination. my want of avoidance. numbness to all. it has a weight. a presence. a name. i just have no interest in knowing it.
Coming off a few days of illness, it feels great to have a solid dose of endorphins from my silver sidekicks. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of exhausted, burning muscle fibers. Or the growth of callouses from palming weights (yes, I would probably benefit from gloves). And the excitement of seeing the body fire into form. There’s a magic in the connection between metal and skin. A bond that just feels right. Whether in a home, gym, or waiting at the bus stop; one can never go wrong with pumping some iron!
Instead of a classic Easter egg hunt, this hoppin holiday, I found a treasure while combing through my closet of forgotten purses. Tucked away, underneath countless color clashes of faux leather, was a rustic brown bag. One that I loved to the point of discoloration and an additional hole. Peeling back the faded flap, I found a handful of treats. Peppermints, hairbands, lint balls, sand? But there was this one thing. Nestled next to fortune cookie statements of “you’ll travel far” and “your artistic soul knows no bounds”, was a little black square. Could it be? Oh yes, yes it was! A memory card full of pictures from my hiatus. Little gems waiting for discovery. And I can’t wait to share in the future. Exciting to find images that I thought were lost down some rabbit hole. What a great Easter egg surprise!
For those that missed my Instagram picture yesterday (and for the ones that didn’t quite understand it); here is an article explaining just what is that blimp in the upper left corner. That sucker is parked right over where I had Easter dinner. I knew about the launch in Dec. But seeing it hovering over the backyard, motionless, was eerie and infuriating. No one else seemed to be bothered. The residents had grown accustomed to it, saying it didn’t bother them. Looking from face to face, I felt like an alien in a room full of people from planet surveillance. A place where people willingly give in to their watchers. And enjoy indoctrinating television programs that make the art of surveillance palatable. Swallowing the surveillance state, we finished dinner and continued to ignore the white smear in the sky.
Opening my heart this flamin friday. Trying to remind myself that through the act of living, I am learning to love myself. When faced with unanswered questions, remember that I don’t have to harbor all the answers. Just be open to the possibilities ahead. See them as a new opportunity for a deeper understanding of me. And when tears come, to let them. It’s okay to cry. Okay to feel. To love and cut one’s self some slack. After all, it is easier to be kind and accepting of others than of myself. Kindness doesn’t have to just be for the rest of the world. It can be directed inward. Softening any negatives that may be found there. Knowing that is the first step to living on a path of self acceptance. Until then, I’ll continue to offer kindness to others and perhaps that daily practice will teach my heart how to love itself.
Protecting oneself while trying to reestablish a form of expression is a difficult balance to strike. Feeling hurt by critics. Empowered by supporters. And learning to grow in the pain. I’m trying. Trying to be myself in a world that has lost the taste for honesty. The art has not stopped — it has been a crutch for sanity. Exhausted by the unsupportive, but hopeful for a more fulfilling future of sharing my work, once again, with fellow artists and appreciators.
[Image from my archives. To all those looking to decipher my location from recent posts take note that most images will be from previous dates.]