They say poetry is the language of love.
I say poetry is the language of the subconscious.
We think too much. Seeking control which we do not have. Do not own.
We try to hold on…. To things. To land. To thoughts. Claiming them as our own.
They are not ours.
We have expectations and emotions. Like anger. And rage. That come from a place of discontent and fear. Turning us into monsters. Or, worse yet, machines.
I see black and white. This way or that. Afraid to believe I can have it all.
I can have all that my heart desires and not feel guilty. It’s not true. Not yet. I have to work on the guilt part. Why should I have it all when others are suffering? Why should I get to be happy, content, loved, and financially secure? Maybe it doesn’t go along with my training. My story of upbringing.
I think about my mom. About my dad. Do they still exist in some form?
My mom always believed in reincarnation. But not me. I cannot appreciate beliefs such as past lives.
Some times I want to live a simpler life.
Small town Americana. Opie and Andy. Sorry Aunt Bee. You are not in my story.
I want to hold on to the illusion of a land where all children grow up feeling safe and loved. Where even in their worst nightmares, children never know the feeling of being beaten or shot.
Perhaps I am seeking the comfort of a fun close-knit family. The Brady Bunch could work. A mother, father, sisters and brothers. I think, in some capacity, we all want to be taken care of. To feel safe and secure, loved and cherished. Memories fade to the rickety back porch at my cousin’s house. There was something special there. Something like family and the carefree days of childhood.
Maybe I’m searching for something I never had. Not to the degree I needed anyway.
I felt like an outsider growing up. I was different than the rest of my family. I wondered if I was adopted. I wondered if I was invisible.
I don’t have to stay a little girl forever. At least not in that way. Now people can see the 100 % woman I have grown up to be. Yet I’m still a bit of a tomboy. Whatever that means these days.
I’d like to end by sharing these three questions I saw on a Ted Talk the other day:
- If you knew you were going to succeed at whatever you did, what would it be?
- If you knew you had 100 million dollars in the bank, what would you do or be?
- If you knew you only had 6 months to live, what would you do or be?
Goodbye for now.