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In all of life we come face to face with different things that do something to how we view things.
It's part of life.
It is the way of things.
We become part of a landscape that our reaction to the events of our lives creates for us to walk about in.
When I thought about what to write to show up at the end of each of my posts, I thought about how my life is fragmented, and how when people meet me they only see parts.
Most of the time, people are in my life for only a short while,
taking what they need, but not wanting to stay long enough to find out what more there is.
That is the way of my life.
Rejection feels like rocks sometimes, and so do ugly words or setaments. So does having people look at you and put you into a box because of the clothes you wear, your body size, or even if you do things that seem unoridnary.
People are funny critters after all.
They make so many snap decisions that in the end prove out to be something of red herring when it comes to "knowing" other people.
One of the lovely things about having only your words to let people see who you are is that all the normal distractions are removed so that they are forced, if you will, into seeing something more.
I am the mirror cracked,
glass upon the floor
looking up at you
but not knowing how to ask
I stand naked and bare
to do more
than see me as broken
a life worth nothing
because I'm in peices
so I watch
In this time in history there are so many things that happen every day to people like you and me that cause so much damage, and have the potential to turn us into ugly cincial rock throwers...but we have a choice.
To keep our heart intact, and try to see the heart of the person were standing next to or the person we see on the street dressed in rags, or even the drunk who lives in and out of dumpsters.
There is a real person in there, with a life we know nothing about.
You look at me
put me in a box
when you have the choice
to let me out
and all the while
as the rocks come flying
I fit your need
to have someone
as a guilty party
so that you can feel better
about the things
your ashamed of...
I live on the outside of most of the circles that people move in.
I tend to move in and out of thoes circles, going unnoticed, until someone finds me with a great need in their lives, and then they zero in on me like a homing beacon, and there I am,
this person with something they need. To them, I am nothing more.
I give what I have so that they can go on in their lives.
That is the way of my life.
In ordniary circumstances, if everything was fine in their lives they would dismiss me as another "freak" who was consistant with all their feelings about who and what freaks are, and they would throw rocks.
They have. And I've ended up bleeding inside because of thoes rocks.
I have scars inside from their judgements. I was never worth more than what they could take or needed to take from me.
That is the way of my life.
I am so lovely
in the mirror cracked.
All naked and bare
bleeding on the inside
so lovely are the peices
as they reflect the sky
but they are broken
and the only response
because you don't want to know
who I am
is to pick up another rock
and take aim...
A man walked a long a dusty road and as he walked something caught his eye.
He made his way to the thing that was half hidden in the tall grass.
He wasn't sure what it was, but upon examining it found it to be parts of a what apeared to be a book, his first thought was this is junk.
He was about to throw it back in the grass when the wind caught some of the pages and an inscription caught his eye.
"To my beloved,
I am so sorry for all that you endured. I know that your time in the death camps were filled with terror's I cannot immagine, but luckily you were only there a few months and escaped death many times. It is truely a sad time when men turn against men and seek to distroy them.
If they do this in the green wood, immagine then what happens in the dry.
I love you, and my hopes and prayers are with you.
Until you are safe in my arms."
It struck him, this deep sentament, and realized that this was important to someone, and it was somehow lost.
His eyes filled with tears.
Immagine what would have happened if he had never taken the time to stop and look at what was hidden in the grass, or upon seeing it was a "wrecked" book just passed on by.
There are so many things that are looked upon in this world as being worthless, just because they arn't something we like. Things of great value, things that mean much.
Such a time is this, that men take what only tickles their fancy and disregards what may have great vaule to their lives...
just something to think about
Pick up anything, a spoon, a newspaper, a coin, a flower and get real close. What do you see?
How often do we go through life missing the little things that make something what it is?
To notice the details of anything is a compliment to the thing itself. To marvle at it's structure and wonder how it was made and the hands of the person or people who made it is amazing. It leads to a deeper type of learning, and from all accounts an important one.
It's important to notice details because it helps you remember.
When it comes to the people in your life it's actually an act of love that can make a huge difference in how you look at them and the emotional investment you make.
Looking for details is like detective work that can last a life time. And it's worth the time it takes. How many people in your life right now can you tell what they are looking for just by the look on their face?
Can you tell when they are happy or sad, or just trying to figure out something?
What color do their eyes become when their mood changes?
Life is so short. Too short in fact. Sometimes the most precious of people come into our lives and there isn't enough time to learn everything that makes them who they are.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was 19 and have all the knowledge I do now. I would take more time and learn more about the people who were around me. Not that all of thoes people were pleasant, but the things about them were. Some of thoes people are gone now, my father being one.
If I would have paid more attention to the details of who he was I would have understood something years before the revelation I got three weeks before he died.
That he would never tell me that he was proud of who I was as a person, or that he was glad I was his daughter.
If I had known how important details were back then, I would have stopped trying to do something, anything to make him proud of me. It was a waste. Years of wasted time.
I learned about the importance of noticing details as my children were born and as they grew up.
Now it's elementry to my life.
I've learned over the years that the greatest compliment you can give anyone is to notice the details of who they are. It's a gift that you give them without it ever being noticed as a gift.
It makes them feel like you really do care about more than just surface things, or what they can do for you.
And it can and does help you understand why they do some of the things they do.
Then there is the process of learning about you. The details of who you are.
I heard it said that the greatest book you will ever read is about you. The pages turn, being new everyday, and what you do and say is what is written.
Just a few thoughts...
Turn the glass
round and round
and see the world
for the hundreth time
or the first.
Pull it close
the prisimatic orb
and tell me
what you see.
Purples and greens
and out again
as you move your head.
Open a window
close your eyes
feel your senses
let them take hold
give you wings
give you clues
to who you are
and where you've come from.
The face in the glass
your reflected eye
Your only seeing
at a time
we could see
and other flying insects
it would make more sense
making us feel
not so lost
or so alone
trapped in a shell
that at least for now
I heard this story about a man who had a dream one night. He dremp he was a butterfly. When he woke up he thought to himself was I dreaming of the butterfly or was the butterfly dreaming of me?
The dream was so real that it made him ask that question. Maybe he was a butterfly dreaming of a man. Maybe when we dream we are dreaming of ourselves in another dimension. What if...
It's an intersting thought. The possiblity that this is just one reality we living in, if it is what happens, than for many of us who have bits of dreams that don't make sense, this would answer many questions, to a certian degree.
And what if thoes dreams that we have that are so real we're sure we're awake, maybe were just watching our reflection in some mirror in some other place.
There have been alot of posts lately about our sense of perception that it has the potential to take us out of the box and well on our way to understanding questions that are deep inside and we just don't know how to voice them.
Except every once in a while the whole collected thought makes it to where we are awake, and then we can talk about it, and write about it.
There is so much we don't know, and so much we have forgotten, as a species. I think we are in a time of awakening, and it's been going on for a while.
I think moments of brilliance that come to ordinary men and women are moments when things make it to the place where we can grasp them have been going on for a long time as well.
I think the rare times when someone has managed to stay open enough to understand things, we end up with a Lenardo Davinci
or a Steven Hawlking, but it's all been on certian levels and about just certian things.
I think what's happening, more and more, the awaking is becomming broader, we're understanding more on more levels all at the same time.
What if...we're just waking up from a very deep sleep, unaware that we have been asleep, walking around, carring on lives in other dimensions and never even knew that in these other dimensions we were very different people, doing amazing, brilliant things, traveling through time and space, having families who could walk through walls, and move things with just a thought...
What if that's going on...
I stood on a chair, straining to see out an open window.
The sky was a perfect blue, just turning it's eyes tord sunset.
Truth stepped beside me and asked me what did I see.
What did I see. What a question. What do I see when a window opens that shows something so beautiful as to defy words?
The post by Bunk, Reality 101, is such a window.
I have to thank him for opening it to show such a beautiful sky.
To answer truth as she/he is waiting for me to tell her/him what I see, it's this, that with in every star is the possiblity of the human heart, soul and spirit.
That all of us are more than just souls seperated by skin, but we are all flowing over, around and through each other. Most of the time we just don't know it.
And for all my crazy moments, all my dark rooms and thoughts, when someone comes along and opens a window like Bunk did, it makes staying around well worth it.