The Ark Of Sanity

A reason to read (and reread) WP. If i needed a reason. Hell no, no need for reason when reading Ray. Just read.

The Ark Of Sanity

http://raynotbradbury.com/2018/11/09/the-ark-of-sanity/
— Read on raynotbradbury.com/2018/11/09/the-ark-of-sanity/

Interior Designer

And automatically, the words became sentences, with stems and petals. Forced from the fertile soil, stories grew arms and legs. They not only held her dreams but they carried her to lands far away.

People have no idea what’s going on in my head. Most days i wish i didn’t either.

December 22, 2017

Photo modified with Pic Collage

Beware the sun setting. This encourages the claws to rise within.

Early this morning i was doing well. It is now mid-day. I feel myself sailing off into the abyss.

This abyss is not heaven. Its hell on steroids. Whether its the packing up of my beloved writing room, or the thought of getting on an airplane Sunday morning, my mind is working up into quite a frenzy.

It has been days of this craze. I am unsure where it stems from. But it has arrived. And I best chill or I will be so agitated nothing will scrape me off the walls.

January 2, 2018

I am quite fearful of sharing the dark existence but on occasion it slips and sails. I am safely back into my cocoon. Well, what was my home. This once rapturous dwelling now expects me to hurry up and wear my wings indefinitely. Be vigilant and ready for take-off. I much rather undress and retire. Lie wistfully contemplating the atmosphere. The soul immersed in each layer, teetering between and through.

So how will my blog look going into 2018. I wish i knew. I have no idea. It most likely will stay this raw, unedited mess that lacks direction. On a whim i may post my photos. Or get ambitious and finish my quilts. Or unpack my paints and create worlds unknown to most.

Or….✍🏼🧡

Absence (makes the heart grow fonder?)

These two books just appeared in my mailbox a few minutes ago. They are still cold from the frigid air, but it won’t take long to warm them up.

I have not had a new Yalom book to read, in forever!! I was beside myself to order these books (published 2015/1996 respectively) and I am off to read…

Let you know when I come up to breathe. 😁 And if you are on Goodreads, lets connect. Here is where I am

Each book, a door. A door I never want to shut.

Morning Muse

I wonder what planet awaits a mind able to override saturnine thoughts. 

“Your will to survive, your love of life, your passion to know … Everything that is truest and best in all species of beings has been revealed to you. Those are the qualities that make a civilization worthy to survive.”
–Lai the Vian, “The Empath” (Star Trek)

There was day, June 10, 2017

What mirror holds you?  See?  Look into the staring eyes, release the eager heart, break the calcified shell to birth a new start.  Are we all not souls as luminous as Shakespeare, Mother Theresa and Gandhi?  

Can you believe someone, somewhere understands?  If not here, where?  Perhaps in the end only you can save you.

In all things may there be wellness.

The absence of sound is the beginning of wisdom.

Wondering about the rising bubbles and taking care not to pop them, my mind turns to the hidden breath that resides within, trapped in time.

The Innocence we begin as, is what we return to. A return to purposeful thought and discernment. Yet I recall nothing of the first light and the resounding answers in the dark.

The fear I felt as child may have been real but is lost to time and the fear remains, traveling toward the end.  Where is the end?  This birthday or the next?  Turning 50 is not as bad as the world reveals.  I feel I have just begun.  A new life.  Adventure awaits.  All the things I have not or could not do for various reasons, mostly at my own fault and reasoning.  I certainly fear the rising phoenix in the room.  Although this time I will rise to conquer myself.

Who brands me the quiet one when I feel the urge to speak?
They have real courage and I am left to find strength to overcome.
So speak.

And so the mind rambles through and over and never ends because once my feet have hardened on a particular road, another pair of feet are born. Another way to travel.

In fear and trembling, destiny’s road perishes.
With courage, horizons come to light.

I begin my Sundays with this thought and why I led them towards the end of today’s ramblings, well I begin a fresh note and leave last week’s musings alone, for awhile.  Pick them up, again, when the time seems right.

Have a great week. Happy writing, J 🙂

With no further ado, bow

Eight years is a long time to be boxed in by walls. Forty-nine years is even longer.

Losing a loved one is difficult.
When the culprit is suicide you are a foreigner.
That you remains a memory.

Moving on becomes a battle.
The walk is painful.
Legs are weighed down and moving is impossible.

Choosing to live is an obstacle.
Thoughts of ending your life becomes reality.
Numbness shows in your face.

Then, one day arrives, and the sun shines, and your eyes adjust.
Slowly your heart allows
Eyes gazing the distance.

Tears stream.
You are afraid to catch them.
You let the person go.

For too long I have been locked away, inside a dungeon. I have tortured myself long enough.I choose to believe I am worthy of life. I am loved. I have a purpose. I struggle but the struggle does not define who I am. I am nobody and I am somebody. I choose to be.

John 10:10…I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

I believe in sin and that belief  brought me to my knees. And on my knees I found love, grace and peace. In humbleness i serve others and not myself. I love everyone as much as I love me. I feel pain because I am not hugging my brother, but I am. His smile lives on.

I allow the ocean waves to rock me and not threaten. I allow the bird’s song to be sweet and not a call to be earth. I allow me to be seen. I allow the rain’s cleansing. I…

Now I adore my life
With the Bird, the abiding Leaf,
With the Fish, the questing Snail,
And the Eye altering all;
And I dance with William Blake
For Love, for Love’s sake.
Once More, the Round (1964)

time ago

Hamlet. He asked “to be
or not to be”. Inspiration
for countless others. Tragic
that role model. Hero?

And then Thursday
rolled in
storm clouds boiling over.

There have been two suicides in my family. Both impacted me deeply. Too deeply.

Then Thursday rolled in
and the rain
started falling. The lighting
and thunder were not far
behind. Sudden. Shock.

News is only
good when you smile.
The house is cold
lately. Staring off
in the distance, numb
to the sound of birds.
Spring approaches
and with it grief.

Winter never leaves the crushed soul. Earth gives no relief to the burdened heart.

Thursday rolled in
again
another year to be
in the midst of rain.
Fog descends
the sun burning off
what remains.
My heart trembles
the positive thoughts
are manufactured.
Anger
at God
with questions of why.

Why?