Thursday, April 24, 2014

Target of Your Rage




Thoughts not expressed remain imprinted on the canvas of your heart and the crevices of your brain. Your body absorbing 
more and more.

Holding it in, holding it back... a recipe 
for an emotional hot mess. 

Please share, it's easier to protect myself from a misting rather than a deluge.

Jostled About


The clip from the movie American Beauty suggests this life is impacted by a benevolent being or god and he sends a message... through a plastic bag. Life is inherently beautiful even in the most meaningless ways.

My take-away from this clip and many other occasions when I've encountered plastic bags floating along the winds and bumping into obstacles, redirected with each collision is that in many ways many people bounce along in their lives waiting for that inevitable event to set the direction for the next step to take.

I've lived through some of those people. It always reminded me of being taken for a ride, blind-folded, to an undisclosed location rather than being the driver expecting to arrive at a certain destination of my choosing. These people are being thrown about every which way, not having the strength to defend against all the assaults they encounter. Life happens to them rather than them taking a good hard look at life and telling it what the expectations of that relationship means to them.

My journey may try to impact me, and I will feel the blows, but the only thing that shifts about my presence in this world is a deep resurfacing of my resolve that I will not deviate from the course I plot; I will stabilize and I will maintain... and I will arrive.


Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Audience of One

Van Renselar
Pictures and scenery from years gone by flash before my eyes as I'm laying here on my deathbed. I'm simultaneously smiling and crying, wishing to be back in those memories as a more willing participant rather than just as a casual observer.

Who would have ever thought that desire to experience those times again would creep into my psyche. Weren't those experiences hard the first time? Now laying here I realize, accepting this unfulfilled life is much harder to endure than all the things I had to go through while I was still young or even middle-aged.

Before withering away to my end, I had only watched the days go by without me really participating in them or enjoying sharing good times with others. Now, it's an even lonelier existence. A hospital bed and my dreams to give me my only real comfort now; closing my eyes make me an audience of one to my past.

I experience a rare joy when nurses or doctors come to call. I can smile a bit with them, forget the sadness I feel. Then they leave and once again I am by myself, alone with my physical pain and my emotional sorrow. The tears flow silently, streaking my face like tiny little rivers through the cracks of my aged appearance.

Looking up, the ceiling offers no hope for some sort of release and I find the only way to escape this dreary loneliness is to sleep and join those characters that brought me what was, in hindsight, the most joy throughout my life. Experiences that I didn't really know how to appreciate or even understand at the time. Simple pleasures like just being with someone I cared about and truly enjoying the time spent together. Looking at the sunset and its beautiful shades of color as it dipped down below the tree line. Feeling the wind blowing and licking my skin with its light, feathery touch. The little tingles of love and appreciation I should have felt when my children looked at me adoringly. If only I had taken the time to really let all those good things resonate in me deeply. If only I had been an active participant in my life while I had the chance... then maybe the sadness now wouldn't be so profoundly devastating.

I built a lifetime of feeling alone and preoccupied. Connecting to my existence, fully engulfing my experiences could have... oh, they would have... made for a richer take-away than what I chose to be left with at that time. So now I'll exit this world with only memories, their impact and meaning only now being revealed; a lesson of life learned much too late.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Living Who...

disjointedthinking.jeffhughes.ca
It doesn't matter what label you adorn yourself with; your identifiers don't tell the whole story. They are only who you think you are and what you represent during your time on this earth. What you show us through your actions will be the message the world receives loud and clear; bordering on screeching when what we encounter doesn't match up with what you are telling us. Consider it a success if you can fulfill your own needs without impacting others negatively or dismissively, as most of us do leave marks on others.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Aching To Be Heard


Beautiful Minds




Not just to be heard, but being completely understood is also a strong desire. Many times we keep so much inside because we are afraid of not making any sense or clearly defining the deeper meaning of our thoughts filling our minds.

The struggle to find one's voice in a world filled with such variation and understanding is intimidating. But having the courage to go against the discomfort adds a certain depth and value to your life, a level of satisfaction within yourself is attained where previously there was none.

Many times we forget that the stories are what makes life interesting. Please don't agonize, share yours with us.