Flames Illuminate our Faces

Mar 03

It all comes back in tsunami waves, like a kaleidoscope of daydreams or perhaps nightmares in color. Wonder where they all are right now? What are they doing, those other people that are hurting or suffering?

The worst part isn’t losing someone or something else. It’s losing yourself. But its in that fallout period, whether a quick outburst or an agonizing string of hours, days and months – where you expect to find your savior, your Jesus, whatever it was that once helped grab you from the burning flames of your own mental detriment. During that fallout, is when you find your light, uncover the sacred scriptures that you once wrote and hid underneath rudimentary layers of growth and empowerment for safekeeping. For times just like these.

But when the lines blur, not even blur but hallucinate – and you struggle to determine if you really “knew” yourself and your convictions to begin with, it makes any loss, threatened or realized even more dangerous. So what do we do when everything is in question and even the most concrete particles of our carefully built, refined, tested and proven persona find themselves standing alone in the limelight?

Maybe, you just leave without a word.
Maybe you keep searching, playing the game.
Maybe you stop clicking on plastic keys.
Where did those ivory ones go?
They left with him, and him…and him.
Is that even fair?

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Free Yourself.

Nov 12

I always find it unfortunate and a bit jarring when it takes a major storm or event to bring people, myself most humbly included, back down to earth. Life has only kept going and with it – the earth spinning. But this space has grown quiet for far too long minus a few bits of random thought firings. And as busy as I am, trying to beat that alarm and pour my next cup of coffee, perhaps my next glass of wine, other things are slowing down. I’m losing someone really dear to me. I’ve always been a writer, never short on words and thoughts, a serial over-sharer. Yet, these types of posts remain a bit cryptic by nature. Still, I suppose I’ve felt the need for a bit of blood-letting so here we are, shambles.
Let’s do it old school. Bullets? Anyone?

1. Getting back to the barn and riding weekly has proven (as I both feared and prayed) to be a saving grace for my sanity. What a breath of fresh air. I can’t wait to start showing again. Adrenaline. Air. Large mammals. Pretty posture. Jumping.

2. My little girls just had their 18 month check-up. They are strong as ever, and only 19 pounds each. So precious and full of fire.

3. I’ve steered away from being particularly self reflective for the past, I don’t know, year or so? It’s happening again, and I’m choosing (today) to ride it out and let it just be. If you’re here, I figure…you fell in love with it, so, right.

4. Thinking about going from platinum to ginger this week…no big deal.

5. I hate when people ask me what I “do”. It’s getting a bit too fuzzy. Seriously, how do women answer that question? (I wanted to write “women of my caliber” but realized that would read only one way – PRETENTIOUS. But there, see what I did? I guess we’ve just killed two birds?)

6. I absolutely love MRIs. I spent 2 hours in an MRI machine recently and it was the most blissful 2 hours of my recent history. Apparently, such response is atypical. My sports medicine specialist thinks I’m pretty fly.

7. Work has provided me the “luxury” of an iPhone 5. It’s scary, and I like it.

8. I still eat oatmeal every single day, just in case you were wondering (hey, I said we were going old school here with the blogging…)

9. I still am on an old vine Zinfandel kick with seasonal beers tossed in between.

10. Being wordy is exhausting. I live for it. Sometimes they take it, sometimes they leave it. Seems like it matters most when it’s GONE.

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Good girls are pretty like all the time. I’m just pretty some of the time.

Nov 11

Good girls are happy and satisfied. I won’t stop asking until I die.

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All my windows are broken, but I can stand on glass all day long.

Oct 25

And I’m stuck up in this storm like a little girl hurt by the big bad world. I’m boarding up the windows. Until the next time the wind blows, because that sneaky tornado has a funny way of drawing me straight back into the gale.

If I could only find a note to make you understand, I’d sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hands. The noise in my head, the curse of the talented, strong communicator – vagabond.

That’s alright because I like the way it hurts.

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Set me free.

Oct 20

There are few things that set me free these days. I have always been a bird, flying in and out of cages screaming and smashing myself into wires until I could fly fast towards something else.Take it! Someone just take all this STUFF that I have to give, please!

Does anyone feel like going to Kenya with me? I’m just in the mood.

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