death

Death chose itself today for me to springboard from and I am a strong believer in intuition and the interconnectedness of things, so I accepted death. In accepting and stepping in, I allow space for emissions. Being such a frightening word I could make a personal selection that is more subtle; more settled and acceptable. But this proposition for communications is from an other source. Here is the interconnection. Ordinarily we refer to these emanations as extrasensory or as signs; feelings or infractions of a larger thing. This is just the beginning, the ordinary, the initiation of purpose and meaning. This in reality is a few steps back from the threshold of interconnection. What is required is for the mind of an individual to let go and let the being enter the idea or sensation walk further on to where things undefined begin. One must be willing to engage the half sleep, underworld, where the light is dim, the air has taste and the body glows as in the illumination of a dream. La Duende. When you go below the surface it requires death. A death to your topical, tactile, tenacious application of life because the things you will hear in this underworld will change the things you have been told to believe.

The prose written here following was a reflection on the annoyance of excessive talkativeness
where the incremental details of the surface become foolishness and boisterous full of triviality and coyishness.

One fragment of thought I strain for while drowning your words.

Interesting in the most dismissing way are you unto yourself.

Largely in love and in 'look' with your life in all your flattering charm.
Not remotely interested in me you speak only of yourself.

'Who are you?' you never ask, your self engagement is so high.

I press my thought over your mouth with force simply to breathe for a moment
whatever it is of mine of yours I might share.

You pluck it away again lickety split, speaking only of yourself.
and all the while flirting you go on and on and on.

I grow weary while deflecting all of your speaking and push again
my soul into your words to share a bit of air in the exchange.

When you finally listen your eyes open wide
and your mouth finally shuts because the things I say are not only words
but have meaning.

And my words won't lie to you.


Just past the heart, go beyond the eyes, round the corner of faith to the interior dark hall where you were left naked. The place of disillusionment, torment, bad smells, hind quarters. The last place that you lived and died. Identify terror wrap your arms around it and lie no more. You must never lie about who you are. You need not tell the secret but you will never lie about the truth. Deeper you must go, deeper still to retrieve the lost... and what has been lost.

I guess I'm writing to say I love you to the silence. Hello to dark corners and why are the corners so dark and the upper world so bright. These words are the light that come to dark places; to thoughts under ridden, places no one smells, when sometimes I wonder where to go.

Just past the heart, go beyond the eyes, round the corner of belief into the dark hall where I breathe and rest in peace.

reticent

Merriam Websters thesaurus writes this about being reticent;

1-given to keeping one's activities hidden from public observation or knowledge — see secretive 2 tending not to speak frequently (as by habit or inclination) — see silent 2

This word enters my mind today as I continue to wrestle with all of the things I've decided to change and all of the things that have decided to change me. I keep faltering, never thinking I am in the right place wondering what is going to happen to keep me from being happy next because of my decisions.

Fear is the motivating force. Fear is a negative factor not a positive. One to be recognized for sure but not to be driven by. I let it creep into my conciousness and hide my day from belief.

In the word reticent I read the reference to secretive. This word is uncomfortable.

I have chosen to leave my husband. A belief I did not hold until the day I decided to leave. Like a twister that came and tore off the top of my shed; or my head and blew everything out into a pile to sort through. Funny this choice of words should come fleeting, meandering crost my mind. This theme for me, this twister.

Once I visualized my pain, the circumstances of my separation and I saw myself walking across a landscape. At some point I came to the edge of this place I was walking, then stepped off. I fell for many, many feet to the ground that seized up to meet me. There buried in the soil in my vision I saw myself emerging, my body glowing from the inside out. I emerged anew. But the twister kept spinning on my shoulder and kept me pinned to the ground. I couldn't move. What is this image; what keeps me pinned in place? Why am I still living?

Why do I not celebrate this departure and agree with my heart and mind . Why do I reject and doubt the thing I pushed myself into knowing and the thing I forced myself to do, knowing it was immenent to my survival? Reticent; why am I reticent about the thing I now know and believe to be true? It is fear that keeps me inert. I am in fear of my own truth.

Honesty is a hard companion but a satisfying lover. Another page.

Renee'

Every days daze...

It's my first blog and I love to write. Can hardly wait to get this thing rolling.
I'm so far outside of mylife right now I'm trying to ride up along side myself and see if I need anything. Not so far, getting up along side myself that is. Maybe it's better if I don't. What I really want to do is go to bed for one long night sleep. More for me tomorrow. Ciao!