I often write something after someone speaks to my heart. This is what happened with the following.2/26/2021 Being Alright With Not Being The Same 2-5-21
The words, “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again” resonated deeply with me. They were spoken by someone who had lost his beloved after many years together. I have thought and felt the very same way, many times, over the last few years. How could life ever have meaning again? Where would I be able to find joy again? Initially there were no indications that I would ever recover from the loss and sadness. My entire world had lost all its color, had gone dark and I could barely function. Over time, however, signs of spring and the newness it brings began to get my attention. Sometimes I heard my own laughter breaking the silence, startling and surprising me. Without really knowing it, time was buffing out the sharp edges, softening the blow. I suppose I cried a little less, smiled a little more and began to notice I was still alive. Because I had lost the ability to pay attention life had gone on, seemingly without me. And in the interim parts of me began to heal a little. I was no longer an open wound. Maybe this is the resilience that is spoken about. That tenaciousness of being human. I realize that not everyone survives deep trauma but the reality is that most of us do. Sometimes I have thought of myself as a stone tossed and tumbled about in the sea. Originally rough, cracked and jagged after a long time becoming smooth and beautiful. When I look back at where I was I do see some progress and I am truly grateful for it. In spite of wrestling with thoughts of “who am I?” I think I’m beginning to find out. At least I feel a bit of a spark inside tickling a curiosity to find out what might be next. This is new and I think it’s because I have begun to accept this new version of me. Moving out from under the perpetual cloud, day in and day out, one step at a time I found myself a stranger in a strange land but I am beginning to be okay with it. I don’t know when that happened but I suspect it didn’t suddenly happen all at once. It’s been a gradual metamorphosis from obliteration to finally feeling I might live again. Grief, that was once a stalking hound has surprisingly become a welcome companion. It has shown the way through every necessary tear, teaching me the value of them all. So now when I remember, I might shed more tears but then find that I am smiling too, I am realizing that I have actually become more than I was not in spite of, but because of. Being blasted apart and then having the willingness to open myself to be repaired I didn’t know it then but see it now, love is putting me back together one piece at a time.
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Sometimes I have to rant about what's wrong to clear the air in order to find my way back to center where I can see what's right again.
I am insufferably bored I have run out of ways To express my gratitude For......................being alive Having enough Being enough Yes, I am grateful...BUT Lighting a fire under me Has become challenging. The matches are damp And downright wet And I am really, really Tired of making lemonade Out of a huge pile of lemons! Usually I am a self starter. I've learned to motivate Inspire and investigate Various ways to spice up Animate, elevate and Exhilarate my life...BUT I've simply run out of fuel! Upon awakening each day Greeted with sunshine Rain, fog, more rain, More fog, more sunshine Bored, out-of-my head bored Utterly, undeniably bored Tired, fatigued, spiritless. I have become weary Of putting on a happy face In the face of a pandemic That has casually wiped out Millions of people worldwide Plus trying to be cheerful about Our mother earth revolting. Turning the other cheek When hostility assaults Practicing forgiveness For the unforgivable, Choosing to love When I would rather Hire an assassin. No wonder I am worn out. For months upon months We have all been under siege, Attempting to sort out That which we cannot sort. A ravenous virus, fires, floods Blizzards, rotten politicians A world turned on itself. Hard to find the cheery, To keep smiling at adversity, Search for the silver lining, Put on a happy face When I would rather cry. At the bottom of a hole There is only one way...UP. Up to another day to create Up to reinventing myself again, Up above the clouds Up to brighter possibilities Up where the skies are bluer Up beyond the rain, behind the sun UP....to where I can breathe again. Last night I said, "Hello" to you 'neath the almost full moon.
As always a sweet exchange, audible from only one side. Feeling your presence as always, I wondered, as always I do, Is this me wanting you with me or are you really, truly here? No matter though, as every month, the moon comes full again. I feel my senses sharpen and my heart open to let the magic in. Here, a few hours later, basking in the morning sunshine, I am lost in the reveries of last nights gift of dreams. So often I wish I could be held just once more, if only.... We might have just one more chance to spend another night Deep in a space unchanged by time, unaltered by circumstance Where you and I might have that "One More Dance".....forever. I decided that I needed a place to post stuff that I'd just finished writing or painting or new ideas for things I'd like to work on in the future.
It's kind of a scrap book of things that I want to save so I can look back on it and catalogue my progress. I can post the latest things I've written so it can be accessible to those who want to read them. The things I create are to share. It isn't always about making stuff to sell. I have spent a number of years doing just that. I painted pictures and sold them. I wrote songs, sang them and recorded them, performed them and sold the recordings. Now I want to play, to explore and see what I can do to help paint the world a little brighter. This where I'm going to do that. |
Diane BurnsThis is where I get to post things that I've written, paintings I've done and ideas I have for new projects. Archives
June 2021
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