Month: July 2020

Why have I come back?

Well let’s not put the cart before the horse

Why did I shut down the blog in the first place?

Which took me awhile to fully understand myself

Short answer?

Because I hate failing

And I was failing – or felt I was

I lacked the courage and intestinal fortitude to go on failing

So I flipped the switch to private and didn’t come back – for two years.

But you know what – it’s damned difficult to stop paying for a WordPress blog – I know I tried to cancel my subscription a few times without result and the fact that I couldn’t cancel and kept paying for it began to irk me

A lot

So now the question

Why have I reopened the blog?

Apart from the fact that if I’m not using it and have to pay for it well…

But there…

Holes in the soul

Make me think of cake

And

Books

Maybe

Cake and books together with a coffee and

Something else

Maybe a shirt

Or shoes

Shoes are always good

Holes in my soul

Holes in my pockets

Everything slips right through

Spare change

Clink

Clink

Clink

Hitting the pavement

Break into a trot

Don’t think

Sweat instead

Faster

Faster

Trying to outrun

The hungry beast

That dogs my steps

Barking

Howling

In times past

I used to swallow a glass of wine

Or

Two

But they would slip right through

Splash through the holes

Leaky bucket

Couldn’t carry a tune

Even if I whistled real hard

And smiled

Through my teeth

Holes in my soul

Stitches

Neat

Neat

Neat

Stop

Rethread  the needle

Carefully match the hue

So no one can see the patches

Nor see what made them

Those holes in the soul

They’re a private thing

It struck me yesterday morning whilst walking

It came to me in a question

What does high self esteem really mean with regards to the ego

Is it not a thing that builds our idea of ourselves higher

And therefore builds yet another useless extension to an imaginary house of cards

And if this is so

Does it follow that high/healthy self esteem is merely a construct and support system that the ego creates around itself

Like armour

If so

Then what is better than healthy self esteem – what should we be reaching for instead?

And by better I mean

What is real?

Tangible?

Worthwhile?

I cannot rest in ego because that is something that can be torn down and trampled

Where then can I rest my esteem

if not in me

Or I

The me that is still me when I’m asleep

My soul

How do I build…

I never thought I would be single at this age; this isn’t what I believed my life would look like. Truthfully, I assumed my life would be much different than it is today. Some days I wake up and wonder who is living my life, who is inhabiting the life plan I had. Well if I am honest, I wake up and think to myself, just what the fuck.

Excuse my expletive. There might be a few more so if you are offended easily you might not want to read this simple exploration of life at sixty-two, where nothing is quite as planned.

If someone had told me when I was twenty-five the trajectory my life was going to take, I would have laughed uproariously. I wouldn’t have believed them, sixty-two was old as the hills and I didn’t expect to live that long in all honesty. In the back…

Tattered and in pieces, shackled invisibly

Howling gales, surrounding me frenzied

Lashing my torn spirit, whispering as I search

Lost, darkness immediate dragging my core

Crying out, find me here on this shore

Red skies, angrily brighten the horizon

Breezes calm in dawns face, muting the fury

Showers fall, washing the previous night’s wounds

Chains fall away as a pathway opens ahead

Whispers beckon, barely heard over wind-chimes

Soaring, shearing edges from diaphanous clouds

Leaving trails, breadcrumbs to follow as I search

For rest, for peace, for a place to land quietly

Battered, betrayed with redemption beyond reach

Gossamer robes flow around me, burning my skin   

Each touch scorching reminders of pairings

Night falls again, nightmares beckon once more

Perhaps tonight will be different

My bond slips as you become more distant

Once my king now my black prince

Still, I miss your skin, in my dreams

My…

Jojo and Jimie visited every Sunday for Tea.  Miss Vivienne prepared for their visit with anticipation and precision.  Hair, make-up, dress all just so.  The Tea and finger sandwiches made just the way they liked them.

Vivienne was a stickler for the tradition of Sunday Tea with her sons.

“Miss Vivienne, it’s time for your bath now,” Carol said as she began pulling the chair away from the table.

“Oh, hello dear you just missed my boys they would have loved to see you.”

Carol removed Miss Vivienne’s hearing aids and gently placed her in the tub with the help of Betsy.

“What is wrong with her, I didn’t see any visitors.”

Carol glanced up at the new girl and smiled ruefully.  “Miss Vivienne has been with us a long time.  She is demented as can be, has been ever since she killed her husband and sons fifty years ago.”