Sometimes my words get stuck. Like too many people trying to enter the elevator at once or exit it. They bottleneck themselves and adhere to an all or nothing free flow policy.
Sometimes some of the best stories are best left untold. Sometimes they can't be trivialized or marginalized or shrunken down into two dimensional characters created by 84 keys. Many of my best stories make their appearances only in my mind, in the moments between my sleep and my wake.
There is something to be said for the sacredness that is born of knowing a thing by touching a thing. I could describe the smell, the texture, the look, the color in vivid detail. But some things demand more honor than that. Some things deserve no less than to be experienced.
I have a box at home. I call it my box of special things. The box itself was a gift and through my life I have added things to the box that I intrinsically value. I open the box periodically. Handle each thing. Allow myself to remember all of the moments I've lived that have made my life uniquely special. Then with love and care I put them back.
Sometimes I do that with my words. I am verbally stingy with the things that matter the most.
Interesting side note- on more than one occasion I have had people that know me say, "What?! I didn't know you were _____! I didn't see that in your blog." I find that humorous. My blog is not my leather bound. It's my space to vent, my echo. Much like FaceBook isn't the proper venue to play out your relationship. It's cyber space. Life happens in real time.
I think this point in time is one of those sometimes. These words have gotten stuck because they know that they hold a value too deep to be relegated to an echo of an abyss. They know that if they get shared, when they get shared, they would be allowed to breathe the same air of you and I. The kind that carries energy and life and love and laughter. The kind that is only gifted in real time.
Therefore my stories move on.
Dewberry
Friday, March 31, 2017
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
The Interim
There is so much to say. Yet, my words can't seem to assemble themselves. Nights are the most challenging.
A
Sunday, March 5, 2017
3 O'clock in the Morning & Texas
It's 3 O'clock in the morning and I am awake. I am wake because I made the choice to allow myself to go to bed at roughly 8:00 pm last night. In no space-time dimension do I need that much sleep. I was also dreaming of my ex (recent) and I think it was undesirable enough that my brain put a kabash on the whole sleep idea.
I laid awake in the darkness for about an hour, trying to let my body determine if it was sluggish enough to go back to sleep or not. I debated texting people. I debated calling people. Fact- Single people are notorious for being up in the middle of the night. I debated a middle of the night run to the airport to chat and drive around in circles. I decided to blog.
Blog about what? Texas? Weird compliments that people give you? Status updates on What'sApp? People wanting to imprint on my house? Following threads? Young men? Old men? New shoes? How funny it is to hear your kids respond to your blog in real time? Especially when I discourage them from wasting their time by reading it.
I think if I were to wake someone up in the middle of the night tonight the thing I would want to talk about the most is how you never know what life may bring but sometimes you have to go with it and see what happens.
I guess we are talking about Texas.
One of my favorite poems is called, "The Road Not Taken" by Frost. I will not give you a summary, hopeful that you'll google it and Frost can speak for himself, but that poem describes what seems to be my life philosophy. Another favored is called, "First Fig" by Millay. When you put the two together it explains how my life is lived. What does this have to do with Texas?
I, in a moment of thoughtless decisiveness, bought a non-refundable ticket to Texas. That isn't true. It wasn't thoughtless decisiveness, it was a heavy decision made quickly. One that if I had waited I equally both would have and would not have made. Since more time debating taking the trip would have placed me squarely in the middle I have no regret of the purchase.
Here you could insert the obvious question of, 'What's in Texas?' N.A.S.A. of course. That's funny.
I don't actually think that the point is what's in Texas. Have you never or ever had a gut feeling- a gut feeling strong enough to drive a decision but you don't know what the question is? That's what this trip is about. There is a question to be answered in Texas. I'm not sure of the question but I'll know when I find the answer.
This happens often in my life. In looking for nothing I find a lot of something. Some days you just have to follow the thread. How much of this has to do with N.A.S.A? I don't know. I'll probably go again. I think only by being there will I be able to determine if it was as cool as I thought it was the first time. I was pretty ill when I was there. I have no expectations, false again, my expectation is to be rather disillusioned by N.A.S.A.. But I still want to go because I still want to know. I want to get to the end of the thread.
That drive, that need to know if what I think I know is so, it takes me on wild rides. I have a feeling... How many of my more interesting life choices have started with that same sentence? Most of them. How many of my choices to not do something originated with a feeling? Most of them.
I think the point is there is a question to be answered (don't know the question) and it seems as if hopping on a plane will suffice in answering the question. Even if the answer is no, the question will have been answered.
I know. I know.
I'm running in circles.
Metaphor- I came across a ball of yarn. I've been unwinding and detangling it. I am almost at the end. As I detangle it I realize that the layers of brightly colored yarn have disguised a misshapen center. Maybe at the center will be a rock. Maybe it will be a toy. Maybe it will be a map to another ball of yarn and a whole new adventure. Maybe it will be oddly shaped yarn. I am not sure what is at the center of the yarn but the only way to know is to unravel it.
Hence I travel to Texas.
All things being what they are, at the very least, someone else will make the bed and coffee every morning. That's always nice.
A
I laid awake in the darkness for about an hour, trying to let my body determine if it was sluggish enough to go back to sleep or not. I debated texting people. I debated calling people. Fact- Single people are notorious for being up in the middle of the night. I debated a middle of the night run to the airport to chat and drive around in circles. I decided to blog.
Blog about what? Texas? Weird compliments that people give you? Status updates on What'sApp? People wanting to imprint on my house? Following threads? Young men? Old men? New shoes? How funny it is to hear your kids respond to your blog in real time? Especially when I discourage them from wasting their time by reading it.
I think if I were to wake someone up in the middle of the night tonight the thing I would want to talk about the most is how you never know what life may bring but sometimes you have to go with it and see what happens.
I guess we are talking about Texas.
One of my favorite poems is called, "The Road Not Taken" by Frost. I will not give you a summary, hopeful that you'll google it and Frost can speak for himself, but that poem describes what seems to be my life philosophy. Another favored is called, "First Fig" by Millay. When you put the two together it explains how my life is lived. What does this have to do with Texas?
I, in a moment of thoughtless decisiveness, bought a non-refundable ticket to Texas. That isn't true. It wasn't thoughtless decisiveness, it was a heavy decision made quickly. One that if I had waited I equally both would have and would not have made. Since more time debating taking the trip would have placed me squarely in the middle I have no regret of the purchase.
Here you could insert the obvious question of, 'What's in Texas?' N.A.S.A. of course. That's funny.
I don't actually think that the point is what's in Texas. Have you never or ever had a gut feeling- a gut feeling strong enough to drive a decision but you don't know what the question is? That's what this trip is about. There is a question to be answered in Texas. I'm not sure of the question but I'll know when I find the answer.
This happens often in my life. In looking for nothing I find a lot of something. Some days you just have to follow the thread. How much of this has to do with N.A.S.A? I don't know. I'll probably go again. I think only by being there will I be able to determine if it was as cool as I thought it was the first time. I was pretty ill when I was there. I have no expectations, false again, my expectation is to be rather disillusioned by N.A.S.A.. But I still want to go because I still want to know. I want to get to the end of the thread.
That drive, that need to know if what I think I know is so, it takes me on wild rides. I have a feeling... How many of my more interesting life choices have started with that same sentence? Most of them. How many of my choices to not do something originated with a feeling? Most of them.
I think the point is there is a question to be answered (don't know the question) and it seems as if hopping on a plane will suffice in answering the question. Even if the answer is no, the question will have been answered.
I know. I know.
I'm running in circles.
Metaphor- I came across a ball of yarn. I've been unwinding and detangling it. I am almost at the end. As I detangle it I realize that the layers of brightly colored yarn have disguised a misshapen center. Maybe at the center will be a rock. Maybe it will be a toy. Maybe it will be a map to another ball of yarn and a whole new adventure. Maybe it will be oddly shaped yarn. I am not sure what is at the center of the yarn but the only way to know is to unravel it.
Hence I travel to Texas.
All things being what they are, at the very least, someone else will make the bed and coffee every morning. That's always nice.
A
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