5:32 am

 5:32 am

I have been up for hours. Thinking and feeling and talking to God.

About being dead. About being alive. About if existence is as pointless as it feels in the middle of a storm. Both metaphorically and physically. 

I am goal-less, which feels soul-less, and makes me tired.

I contemplate another move, only to recognize that moving doesn't help. Its just a pretty change of scenery until its not. Im incredibly disillusioned with the world. And I dont know if this place has sucked the life from me or if im simply over life.

Let me count seconds. The average person falls asleep in 7 minutes.  420 seconds. 

Hopefully, this'll be a blimp in the sleep radar. And I'll wake to a blood blog of a dream forgotten. 

1,2,3,5,6,7... 

On Supernovas

Nothing about me expected you.

And yet, from locking eyes with you, you felt inevitable. Thanos.

So here I am, cursing your existence. An imaginary creature breathing real air. You were not supposed to be a real thing. I made you up; taking parts and pieces in my mind and crafting the perfect tin man. Yet here you are, flesh and blood and broken and beautiful. Demanding space and time and acknowledgement. Taking attention and turning it into oxygen. Becoming breathable.

I am doomed.

"It is written on the stars."

"What? Marriage has come up already?"

"It has not been discussed or even mentioned. But yes, it has come up."

May my surrender be swift and graceful... However, I'm pretty sure it'll be a cage fight till the end. 

Spoils to the victor.

Let's go.

Dewberry 

Summers Swift Surrender

September 7th.

The entire Summer has past. It was a summer of stabilizing and lessons and trenches. Mental trenches, emotional trenches and spiritual trenches. Which is to say that I fully dug into life. I realized I hadn't blogged in quite some time and I wanted to explore that.

The swift realization came to me that my blog has always been my space to speak and now, now I have friends to talk to, buckets of them. The kind that listen non-judgmentally and respond intelligently. I am not saying that I didn't have that before but I now have it in excess. As soon as a situation comes up I mentally scroll through my rolodex, aka, my contact list and think, "Who is my best advisor in this situation?"

I used to limit my friendships to 5. Here in this place of roots, where they tell me everything is bigger, they've laughed off my number and established a squared base. With or without my consent. But I love it.

I have just enough of all the things that makes life fun.

I am happy.

I am content. 

My soul is at rest.

Until next time.

Onward,

Dewberry

46 finds me...

Openly curious.

At an interesting point. 

Having decided that most things in life are about timing.

Annoyed I went to Colorado. Happy I left. Sad that it's over.

I am genuinely recreating my life. 

It is big and expansive and confusing and simple and wonderful all at once. 

Trying to figure out what time it is for what.

Lacking energy to care about what's trivial.

Calm.

At rest in a restless way.

It's my itchy feet. No matter what I always want to see the next thing. 

At a precipice.

Still me.

A

So That Happened

I had this beautiful analogy about how you can't have 2 stars in a solar system until I fact checked myself to find that you can. Which was disappointing because the metaphor was poignant and hopeful. But I am unwilling to sacrifice my love of science at the alter of art. Ergo, the metaphor dies a swift death. 

To reframe- some things are real. Some things are tangible. Some things are visible. Some things are not. A child splashing in a visible wave blown by an invisible wind can testify that both what you can see and what you can't see can touch you at the same time. 

Love is that. Love is both a noun and a verb. Is is a chemical reaction that can be seen with an expensive machine and a feeling that can't be articulated due to the left and right brains inability to have neuro connections. Say what? We cant's say what we feel and we can't feel what we say. So we grope for words that come close and hope that our energy will fill in the gaps. 

Song of Solomon says that, "Love is as strong as death is. The insistence on exclusive devotion as unyielding as the grave itself." Love is as strong as death is. Death can not be undone. Nor can love. I believe this. Love, like matter, is never lost or gained- merely redistributed. Sometimes, in some cases, the concentration of it is enough to bring a destruction. So the safe thing to do is to redistribute it. Spread it thinly over a large area making it palatable for the masses. Or more accurately, walk away from a thing so powerful that it has the ability to destroy other things that equally matter. A calculated decision to sacrifice the potency of the love to save the lifestyle. 

A good and noble and right and healthy decision. One made with no regrets. 

Mostly because at the end of the day I know. And you know. It is a shared knowledge.

And that is enough.

A

 

Going to Stay, Staying to Go

I Go a lot.

I like the act of Go. Go makes me happy. 

I always have a travel bag packed with my passport and travel documents. As soon as I return from a trip I promptly repack the bag. I am always ready to GO.

I realize I don't dig roots or solidify relationships or make "permanent". Not only does that not matter to me, it also kinda makes me proud. The idea that I am nomadic, able and willing to see the next horizon, next sunset, next people, next place. The globe is my playground. I make my rules and create my life uninhibited by what "regular" people do.

I am remotely smug about the idea that while everyone else' feet are mired in concrete, I've done the impossible and learned to fly. I have wings. The ultimate sense of freedom. 

Now I am in this odd geographic place where people stay for ages. Their roots run so deep that even an act of God, or request from God, doesn't move them. I think that's so weird. The born blind trying to describe color to a child. We are not on the same page and probably will never be. We aren't in the same book. We don't even use the same alphabet.

Which takes me to my relationship. The thing I appreciate about "California" is that he is rooted as an anchor. Nothing tosses him, nothing upsets him. He is dug in, a barnacle. This is his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. This unwillingness to be moved. We are polar opposites in this, which perhaps is a a part of our attraction. His stay compliments my go. His hesitancy balances my rashness. My look-less leaping balances his analysis paralysis. We are both intelligent and able to communicate in a way that is productive and solution seeking. Our personalities compliment each other. 

Until they don't. Until I feel like he's being lazy and he feels like I am being pushy. Until I feel like he's burying me alive in quicksand and he feels like I'm dropping him in the middle of a tornado. Until I get mad and he gets frustrated and we don't even have sex as a way to blow off stream. Then it just feels like we are opposites instead of compliments. Then it just feels painful.

Here is what I don't know- I don't know if this is normal. Does every relationship feel like this? A push pull of no one really getting things the way that they want it. Is this the balance that relationshipping brings? Or is this a sign? Is this the "work" that everyone says a relationship takes?

Side note- I also feel like "Why am I making compromises for someone who isn't even my husband??" I am getting literally nothing out of being reasonable. Why am I being so nice? It's not getting me anything. I pay my own bills. I entertain myself. Anytime I ask for something I am told to take a number and get on the waiting list. I am really unsure of what I am gaining in this situation with this man who isn't my husband and hasn't articulated plans of movement and growth. 

So if we aren't growing why aren't I going?

I don't know. Previously my answer would have been that I like him. We have a solid friendship under all of the complications and jagged edges. Now- I don't know. Perhaps we are only friends as long as I stay in my corner and don't bother him. But that's not friendship. That's emotional manipulation. 

And selfish.

Which brings me full circle.

A

King-Dewberry

 Writers write.