and how it is with me and you
no one really knows
but maybe we do
and we're just afraid to say
yes / no
so goes another day
{ the here and now }
no one really knows
but maybe we do
and we're just afraid to say
yes / no
so goes another day
{ the here and now }
photo by mads teglersi feel the choppiness of this season nicking my bones. there are a few entry points: the underside of my wrist, the backs of my knees, my sternum.
_______________
there are too many blessings to count, and there is too much loss to measure. i don't know how to feel anything in moderation. i have friends who are so sensible, so rationally measured out in their reactions, and i wonder what that must be like. because no matter what i should or could feel, i always simply feel the way i feel first and i actually have to process through that. i don't do very well explaining myself out of feeling something disproportionately. i used to be better at censoring my reactions and my feelings (for those are 2 different things), but i think i burnt out on being proper and proportionate in everything and now i've lost any tempering capability i ever had.
it's hard to be like this, but i think it's better. for me.
if i explain it away because i know it doesn't make sense,
it grows into something bigger, wraps itself around my spine,
and one day i can't stand up and i can't speak
and i can hardly remember why.
_______________
scrambling for peace, watching dreams evaporate into the still morning air.
my hands are shaking, do you know why? it's because of something i
will tell you, i will tell you one day without words. one day i will say
everything i ever wanted to, and it may not be to you, it may be to myself
or someone else who is willing to listen and let the metal pieces cascade down
over his shoulders. it is an armored rain that falls now. you can catch the pieces
with your hands
if you want to.
__________________
and so, hiding behind my hair,
i hibernate in plain sight
hearing the echo of love
in the long hallways of my heart.
not now, but later
he said
i hibernate in plain sight
hearing the echo of love
in the long hallways of my heart.
not now, but later
he said
5 comments:
feeling things in moderation is not feeling things at all.
at least not for the passionate souls like yours, mine, and ours. we crash into the world as its waves break upon us and we emerge on the other side not beaten, not broken, but roughed up into a pearl-like loveliness.
i've never been good at sensoring, so i must create a safe place inside myself to place things so i can feel them fully later, hate whomever the source is, and fully extract it from my being if necessary.
(i hope my mom doesn't read this).
for instance:
my mother came to visit my sister and i and she drove us both crazy. i couldn't feel anything but 100% annoyed 100% of the time. she and i vented to each other with rapid-fire aggression and now i feel totally not annoyed and can see my mom more clearly and love her for all her foibles. i've always felt so mean about how i do this, but i'm over feeling badly about things i cannot seem to change.
so i nurture myself.
have a tantrum (it helps to have a joel and a home).
and re-emerge from my room a much nicer lady.
i love you today.
all bashful behind that raven hair.
which reminds me, i have the perfect postcard waiting for you.
now that i've written a novel, i'm back to cooking artichokes for lunch.
so here's what i think - that if you didn't feel things to their fullest, you wouldn't be allowing yourself to be as great as you are, and honestly, your writing would suffer. such BEAUTIFUL stuff in this post. the last italicised paragraph reminds me a smidge of leonard cohen actually...can't remember the poem and it's not on the same theme exactly, but the resonance of it feels the same to me as yours does - i think it goes something like
'i heard of man who says words so beautifully, that if he only speaks their name, women give themselves to him. if i am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tulips on our lips, it is because i hear a man climb the stairs and clear his throat outside our door.
I too used to be able to show that proper stoicism, to smile and nod, no one else the wiser to the torrent of soul behind. But somewhere along the way it began to chip off and now the facade has crumbled to a few dusty bricks (CRM kicked away a good stack of them when we first met).
It feels a past life, and know I can hardly remember what it was like to NOT lay on the floor in pain or sulk in the corner (throwing shoes) or disappear for hours at a time just because I'm not in the mood. And all the while, I have this sneaking suspicion that it is so good to be honest.
"we crash into the world as its waves break upon us and we emerge on the other side not beaten, not broken, but roughed up into a pearl-like loveliness."
"if i am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tulips on our lips..."
"I have this sneaking suspicion that it is so good to be honest."
thank you friends.
i love you all. truly.
thank you for this.
I'm late.
Better late than never.
You know what I think when it comes to feeling things. GET shot right through, I say, shot right through. It's not worth feeling if it doesn't fly you to the moon or sink you six feet down into a watery grave.
Love.
JSL
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