The future

I forget the winding stairs of this moment are chosen in past manifestations. This slight scatter of time across the floor near the final step folds in on itself, reminding me of the work ahead. Each word, contained in every second, becomes the tomorrow of this moment, a new manifesting of thought and dream. 

In the distance, the image forms, breaks, and then reforms again because the future never settles into a anything solid. It's governed by the the twisting will of my current emotion, which changes with seasons or conversation, then folds away into the scatter of time across the floor. In this reach, my eyes fall with the knowledge that the many steps below lead to no certain destination, but to the wayward and unreachable dreams of a child. 

I fall so easily to despair without the clearness of a crystal stream. When the waters muddy, hope floats down through sharp outcroppings of rock and debris, ripping the soft edges of innocence away. This shake to the core in me then finds reason enough to block the future I've so pushed to find. And yet, here it is today in front of me, molding its way into existence from moments chosen in past manifestations.

Believe

She told me to wish on a star because it will make your wish come true. Somewhere between stardust and sunbeams when dreams feel so real you can smell the rain in the air, I almost believe. Then the sleep falls from my eyes and I’m hit with the starkness of reality.

She said that grown-ups can’t be happy because they’ve forgotten how to dream. In the fervor of her argument when her tiny hands fly up in exasperation and conviction invades every word, I want to believe. Then it’s time to come in from the chill and I’m hit with the emptiness of silence.

She gave up on the little lost boy in the green hat when she turned seven. When I watch her scan the twinkling horizon for a hint of fairy dust in hopes that some dreams are worth holding on to, I begin to believe. Then her head drops along with those beautiful blue eyes and I’m hit by tiny fragments of shattered hope.

She’ll tell you the greatest gift I ever gave her was that of life. Between the smiles and tears, hopes and fears, lost dreams and found things when I’m sure all strength is gone, I do believe.

I believe in her…and that is enough to make me believe in love again.

Brushing Keys & Building Dreams

It took a flash brighter than lightning on a starless night for me to see. If not for the scream of a handful of words, I might still be blind. I won’t admit to the tears, because I’m too stubborn to let them fall. I won’t admit to the twist in my stomach, because I’m too thick skinned to let it bubble past the surface. I won’t admit defeat, because I don’t really know the meaning. Instead, I’ll let them scrub the insides clean.

~   ~   ~

Will you know when your paradigm shifts? Will anyone be there to care? I ask these questions often, and then I wonder if they matter. Mine shifted tonight and when I saw the stars again, my three were right where I left them. The comfort of the familiar steadied me. I let the gathered expectations of the last nine months blow away. They piled up when I wasn’t looking, but then I guess we miss the dust bunnies until we’re stepping on them.

Here’s the hardest part of revelation: when it finally happens no one may be there to share it and no matter how loud you scream no one will hear it.

Instead, I’ll leave it here. Though you won’t understand every word you’ll feel it with me; the excitement that borderlines mania, the fear that borderlines terror, the hope that borderlines faith. When the sharp breath hits like that wall you didn’t see coming you’ll know. You’ll see it’s all part of who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be. Seek me out to hear the smile in my voice or walk by with a quick uneasy glance; either way I’ll be here brushing keys and building dreams in cloud shaped castles.



Life Well-Lived

Silence is our gift. We knew that once when the earth was still young enough to hold wonder. In the darkness of night, the crickets chirped and leaves rustled to make us aware of the quiet. When the chimes ring, I remember for a moment what newness feels like. The stars shine bright against a moonless sky. I sense life ancient and unnamable in their twinkle. It is then I know without doubt I am connected to what came before and what will be after.

So often we talk about living in the now. While such thoughts carry merit, I wonder how often we’re disconnected from our past and future. Life is a cycle of movement. At the second you finish reading this sentence the words will join the past. Does that mean they are no longer worthy of your interest?

My point here is simple. Each moment connects to another to create a stream….in it we laugh or cry or live. Because it ends or has yet to happen doesn’t mean that the value is lost. If we are to be the sum of our parts then every experience, past-present-future, collide to become who we are. In a universe of change it’s vital to know where you’ve been, to understand where you are, and prepare for where you’ve yet to venture.

Every experience will shape you whether you’ve had a chance to live it or not. We all know this life leads to one place. It is the same destination for every person no matter his or her rank. So in the end it isn’t some glorious race to finish first, but to finish well. A life well-lived will be remembered if only by a single person. Can any of us say that isn’t worth it?

Turning Time

My @indieink challenge comes from Disease (@ChamindraH / www.chamindra.blogspot.com): If You Could Turn Back Time.. What Would You Do to Make Things Right?

            I have to admit I wasn’t jazzed to get this prompt. The possibilities seemed pretty limited, given my philosophies on the subject; but the struggles of someone close made me take a second look. This is my response:

            The bigger picture is never clear. We often focus on the details thinking we might find control, but the illusion is no one can halt the progress of time. It’s a tapestry woven with joy and pain. Each event has a place, some threads shine brighter than others. If you take one out, the entire picture begins to unravel, because they interlock to create a life. With every choice, a new thread forms to expand the edges.

Still we grasp the frays tucking them away from memory or dying them in less painful hues; mentally rewriting our history, editing out the parts of the tapestry we don’t want to face. A single thought hits: If we could go back to the beginning, it might be possible to remove the frays altogether. While this may be true have you ever considered the consequences? I have…

I married at a young age to a man I didn’t really love. It’s not that I had to marry him; I could have gone back to school and raised my daughter as a single mother or accepted the proposal of the man I did love. For many years after I left him, I considered what might have happened if I chose a different path. Each time the thought hit me my son would be there, in my arms, telling me about his day. I would smile and nod, and then hug him until I couldn’t breathe.

You see, if I had chosen the other path this amazing child would not be here today. Sure, I would have other children, but not this one or the beautiful little redhead that makes my heart smile. Every event exists for a reason. We can never see the purpose until we live the result. If we change a single thing in our history, it creates entirely different threads. Some may be better, but I believe the better is lived in the now and is based on choices.

Change doesn’t exist in the past, only lessons. We learn and grow from them to make the now right or we repeat the mistakes of our past. Either way, it will only get there when we stop looking over the fence at greener grasses and tend our own.

*   *   *   *   *

I sent my challenge out to Melissa (@rockdrool). Find her here http://www.rockanddrool.com/

Interested in joining the challenge? Check @indieink out today  http://www.indieink.org/writing-challenges/

A Love Story

           I’m done. Maybe you missed the cue or you just don’t care to hear, but believe me there won’t be any doubt after today. This woman is no longer going to kneel before your doctrine and quietly assimilate. I don’t need anyone’s help finding what already lives inside me. So stop knocking, because my door is closed.

Unless—wait, were you here to say something important? Is there some divine message I missed in all those long drawn out lectures you gave? The ones where you mentioned that people who don’t share your beliefs are wrong.

Judgment seems to be the norm. It’s sold on street corners by Religions all over the world like counterfeit Rolexes'; their sales pitch colored by fear, anger, and hate. Salvation is optional in their world; and no one can guarantee if you do it right, if you follow the rules, it will find you in this life or the next.

God isn’t someone you have to seek out or accept. So stop telling me how and where to find him. No building or book carries all the answers, because He exists in each of us as light and love. If no one ever stepped into a church, it would be just another empty building. It’s only when people come to fellowship, share common beliefs, that He can be found walking the edges smiling. Not because you came to pray; it’s the gathering and sharing that’s important.

If you think sharing the love is about opening a book and knocking on doors then you’re missing the point. It’s not about telling me anything; because we’ve all listened to your messages until our ears bleed. You’ve had the same song on repeat for last few centuries and it’s getting old. The notes are no longer in tune and the melody skips every time you point your finger. So close your mouth and show me something.

Show me how you’re going to make the world better. Help that lady down the street with three kids who’s about to lose her house or the guy sleeping on the street because it’s easier for people to walk around than stop and ask why. Don’t sell me salvation from a pamphlet or in a sermon, show me how your actions of love and light will lead you there. Maybe then, I’ll stop and listen to what you have to say.

Show, Don't Tell

            You’ll find the new trend stalking every street corner. Most people walk past, eyes glued to the pavement, hoping they find someone else’s ear. If I weren’t such a believer in the base philosophy, I might stand in a corner out of sight hiding from them myself. I can’t do that anymore. (So, for better or worse, here I go opening my big mouth.)

I’m over the long speeches and quick jabs about how we’re all lost people. The self-proclaimed spiritual leaders can take their mantras and sell them on a different corner, because love and light wasn’t meant to be a commodity. I live by the same philosophy in life as I do in my writing: Show, Don’t Tell. Yeah, I could tell you how meditation brings peace, the way a hug and an ear sooths the soul, or how God’s love (yes, I used the G word) heals a heart, but how does that really help? Isn’t better to show you how these things work in my life?

There are many people in the world throwing out clichés about living in spirit and light, but how many listen? The first reaction I see from those scrolling their timelines is the classic eye roll followed by a quick click of the refresh button. That is, if they stop at all. Because no one really wants to be told how to do something or, and I really don’t like when spiritualists do this, told that they are broken.

This journey is personal and custom crafted to fit each one of us. No one has the formula. So stop acting like you do. This isn’t a club people join. If you want to reach the masses, show them how your personal spirituality has transformed the way you love people and see life. Be there when they stumble and fall, and then hope they are there to do the same for you. Because no matter how evolved we become, everyone stumbles eventually.

Light, love, and spirit aren’t exclusive; everyone carries a piece with them. So next time someone shows up on your step, stop and repeat this 10 times or 100 times or 1000 times until it sticks: Show, Don’t Tell.