The leaf

Consistency.

That is a word that does not reflect my reality at the moment. Every day is different. I've not experienced this before, it's a whole new level of dissatisfaction. I am not usually one to hold on to things so hard, although people are impossible to let go of, and this style of placement has never happened to me before. I've never been pushed aside by someone; I was always the one who did the pushing. Welcome to the other side, Lydia.

Which choice will bring me the most clarity and well-being? What must I do to move forward and come back to my happy-go-lucky, everything-will-work-out personality? I live in two worlds now. One, which is dull, flatlined, in which I have no drive for personal goals and aspirations. The other, a fast-paced, enlivening world, one that takes me over and puts me into drive, lets me be the lover, a compassionate and bright being who connects with others.

I must say that the first is here most often. I also seem to switch between the two if I am alone and if I am around others, although the first can still remain around others depending on my mood, depending on external events. If they're big enough to bring my mind away from this current situation, it helps.

I feel like an empty shell. When I awake. When I go to sleep. In between. I feel like I put on a Lydia suit, and try to remind myself of who I was, of who I've always wanted to be which is the shiny bright human. I don't like basking in this vat of uncertainty. It kills my spirit. I understand now how "he" must have felt, constant unknown, was I to stay or was I to go? I'm so sorry.

Part of me laughs at this, at me, for finding this to be such a big issue. How have I allowed another to depict what I become? Am I not in control of myself? Is it ridiculous of me to think I could have that control at all? This must be another facet of life, this must be living inside a body, with all of the emotions and the ruckus constantly happening. With opening up to emotion comes being affected more often, and I seem to have burst the lid.

"You've got to walk that lonesome valley, you've got to walk there by yourself, there's no one here to go there with you, you've got to walk there by yourself."

Miracles

Miracles exist for a moment. They are little windows of time that counter reality. They are true only for a short period of time, until one enters back into the banality of life. A miracle seems to me an extreme opposite to the current circumstance. Only a fool could believe miracles to last a lifetime. Perhaps life is a linear depiction of tiny miracles - which encompass joy and love and certainty - juxtaposed to disaster; to ruin, to fear and uncertainty.

How long do we bask in goodness before we give into the sense of change, the sense of departing from the love that existed mere moments ago? How do we deal with the in-between states, from miracle to disaster?

We will naturally always be beckoned toward the light of miracles (or should we call it love?) like moth to flame. We will forget all of the strife we've endured, we will forget that it comes again after the initial warmth of the glowing yellow light. We will get burnt, and start all over again, repeating in this endless cycle until we are enveloped in the ultimate merging of miracle and disaster: death.

Rambles About Work

Time and Money
At what cost will I sell my services? Yes, there is a price to the hours of my day. That price fluctuates, changes, inflates, increases with time and experience. Yes. But that is just money. What about the other currency; time? How much time will I give to the work? How much of my energy will be consumed in time, stress and anxiety keeping me working through the evening and night, moving through my dreams and startling me awake?

Doing the Work (and failing)
I am torn. I want the work. I want to be wealthy, and have money to spend on occasions, festivities, on my loved ones, and importantly health and emergencies. My whole life I have lived with the minimum. I never believed I needed much. Things are changing with age, as I ponder what I want in life, who I want in life, what I want to surround myself with, and what the trade off is worth. I want to live well, happy, healthy, and sure, with money to spend. I want to make my clients happy too, give them what they really want. Whatever they envision, I'd like to give them that. The hardest part of my work is probably having to show a process that isn't perfect. The process IS the work, and I've learned that. But I wish everything in the process was perfect - then I wouldn't be stressed, then I wouldn't worry about how much work I'm putting in. It would all just come out beautiful every time I put pen to page or stroke to design.

Choice
No matter what, if I do something I love, I will experience the heartache and the stress. How do I know that I should be continuing, moving forward with what I've got? How do I know that this is the best version of me, the best version of my work? What if I am keeping myself from diving into something much more ... Me? What a first world question this is, I realize. The simple power of being able to choose what I want to do with my time, and especially what I want to do with my time for money, is absolutely a privilege. At what point am I not using this privilege properly?

Who?

I am a composition of all the things I have said yes and no to. All of the people I have allowed in.

No wonder we're all so confused as teenagers and young adults! We haven't chosen enough yet; the world hasn't happened to us enough yet, to make a solid report about who we are. We are constantly wondering who we are. But we do not have a who unless we add up all of our past actions.

Yes, I am all of the good and bad of the history I built for myself.

Yet, I remain a mystery to the next day. To the next moment. My decisions will certainly be based on yesterday's, but only as much as I am willing to sacrifice the new me for the old.

If I am brave enough

If I am brave enough,
I will wait an eternity for you.
Not only wait -
I will give it to you,
hand you time,
for there is nothing else to give.
The only currency
for our love
is time.
Holding on to this abundance
will only make you slip away
through my fingertips.
Note by note,
key by key,
the black and the white ones,
depicting the saddest melody,
the longest chorus,
the bridge that never ends,
where your love waits on the other side
of every note of the song of our lives.

If I am brave enough,
if I open my eyes to the darkness
that falls before the day,
if only I can see the silence
between
which creates the space,
where the sound takes shape;
then I can give it all.
With the eternal exchange
of the currency of time,
we can be wrapped in harmony
forever.

Brrr

"The feelings and thoughts pop up sometimes, but the cold and the stars move me through."

Eating your tail

You are noble
you are kind
you are sweet
you are wise.

You are caring
you are deep
you are understanding
you are all of these beautiful things.

No matter your nobility
your kindness
your wisdom
your sweetness

No matter your care
your depth
your understanding
the poison will slowly seep through your scales
and feed you your own tail.

Nobility, kindness, wisdom, and sweetness,
care, depth, and understanding -
these things will no longer suit your character
and you'll have no choice
but to try on their antonyms for size.

Then your skin will shed like a decaying garb
revealing all of these beautiful traits anew
this pattern will repeat once, twice, forever
until you have shed your deepest layer.

Your truest form will find liberation,
and become the symbol
you had suffered through time
of the snake that eats its own tail.