Courageously Restarting

I forgot about my blog. (boo-hiss) Luckily I don't have a TON of followers or else that would get awkward.........


I'd like to think that starting over is perfectly normal. Exercising. Few of us have 100% attendance. Same with eating healthy. I actually had a journal entry about this just this morning! Funny how things crop up. I don't believe in coincidence either.

The blog was something for me to use the literary word to express myself during difficult times or ironic times or funny times or just plain good times. I find that I miss that feeling. But I grew up - graduated college and moved to a new place where I got caught up in trying to connect to real-life people. So now that I'm settled - nearly 3 years later - "I'M BACK!!!!"

You wouldn't think about it but the Lord wants us to always understand the idea of starting over. I think as humans it's almost second nature to let things slip and then try again and then let it slip and try again and again and again. The Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to do this. No matter what the circumstance is. So even for my silly blogging that got dropped for a few years...starting over again always feels so good! So. Let the adventure begin. Again.

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The Path Ahead

I don't pretend to be a good writer. I just try to make things interesting once in awhile and if it suits me, I share the thoughts and feelings inside me. Feeling very pensive on this fine Sunday morning, this is one of those times.

Sometimes in life the path ahead is unclear to me. Things that happen along the way make me pause and overthink all sorts of nasty thoughts.

The destination is clear.

But there are times when the path has been overgrown by a thicket of doubt or a tree has fallen in front of me that takes much effort and pain to clear.

Since General Conference (2) is coming up this next weekend, I have been pondering a lot of things in my life. God has promised me so many great blessings and given me many blessings that I have done my best to appreciate. But what an impatient creature I am. I want these blessings now. I have not the patience it requires. Because of this impatience...I falter. I stumble. I doubt and fear what is ahead. That maybe I'm not going to receive those blessings after all. 

But God is great. There is no one more trustworthy than God. It is my weakness that bars the way. But it is through His strength that I will overcome.

I may not know my pathway's journey ahead but I do know that God knows it. He is the Master who loves me and will lead me through all that I may encounter. He knows and understands my pain and in Him will I trust. 

D&C 24:8

"These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." -John 16:33

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My team

Last night I struggled with the idea of sleep.

My mind literally would NOT settle down and let me get some Z's. So as a result I could NOT make myself get up and go to 7:30 class (much to the disappointment of my wonderful roommate).


So I slept in (as much as was possible considering my mind was still hard at work...) and with the time I had allowed myself before I went in to work, I decided to do something productive.

I got on to the official LDS website and listened to some of the speakers from General Conference that I hadn't listened to as attentively as some of the others. I felt the wonderful Spirit settle down on my freshly made bed beside me and teach me things about myself and my eternal worth as a daughter of a Heavenly Father.

Although this isn't from any of the talks I listened to this morning it made a point to me that helped me realize where I'm going.

"The future of this world has long been declared; the final outcome between good and evil is already known. There is absolutely no question as to who wins because the victory has already been posted on the scoreboard. The only really strange thing in all of this is that we are still down here on the field trying to decide which team's jersey we want to wear!"
-Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles

I know what team I'm on. There isn't even a question as to which is the best team. I may have slip-ups and stumblings as I play for my team but my Coach will never forsake me or send me off the field until I've finished what I've come here to do.

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Passionfruit

There's a lot in the world to be obsessed about. Growing up I had a huge obsession with horses. Anything that had to do with horses was by far my favorite (whether or not it deserved such elevation in my little world).

Although I have small obsessions like giraffes, collecting notebooks/journals, bracelets, stapling papers together, and sports to name a few, there is one mainstream passion that I have begun to notice taking over my life.

I absolutely adore, love with all my heart, cannot do without, must do all day for the rest of my mortal life...

Getting to know myself. I certainly don't know myself as well as I should and I don't know half the things about myself that I observe in my friends and family on a regular basis. I know what I like and what I love but not why. It's like I'm a mystery!!! (that was for you Abbie Dean) A soul waiting inside for me to discover. I have always enjoyed getting to know people, their little quirks, why they do things the way they do. But until recently had never thought to discover myself.

I spread the peanut butter on one slice first and then wipe the remaining off on the other slice of bread before spreading the delicious jam or jelly of choice BECAUSE that's how my mother always prepared our PB and Js when I was a little tike.

I like to organize and clean my surroundings when I'm feeling nervous or uncertain BECAUSE I've discovered that when I feel like I have control over one menial thing, I have some control over life no matter how hectic it may seem. 

I sing loudly and without abandon to the radio BECAUSE I love life. Life holds so much joy in every day and singing out loud just for the heck of it makes me happy.

I pray all the time...like ALL the time, so much in fact, I'm sure I've heard the Man Upstairs sigh a time or two when I call his name...but all joking aside. I pray to a God that lives BECAUSE when I know something to be true I do my best to live by it. I know He will answer my prayers and listens to the small little problems in my life and does His best to comfort me.

God has given me so much. Even just considering me as a human being and His spirit daughter, I have a lot to be thankful for. Every time my faith falters, every time my soul cannot grasp onto hope's bright light, every time my head hangs down, my Heavenly Father is there for ME because he loves ME.

If the Supreme Being of the universe loves me that much, then there must be something special about me.

That is my new obsession. Finding myself through my Savior, seeing my true reflection through His eyes.

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Dream big

Dreams, butterflies in the azure sky. Floating, lilting, playing in the soft downy clouds. Beautiful bright colors gleaming on their backs in the morning sun's rays. Nothing can reach them but a child on wings. Children are their caretakers, treating their fragile wings with gentle care and love.

Adults stay to the hard, cold ground to which they cling. They're really grown up caretakers that have stopped using their wings and grasped 'reality' tightly in their fists. Fear guides them now.

One such grownup child sits. She is small and few take notice of her. Her wings are broken. Her's is a lucky story however. She can still see the butterflies and her own wings. Most grownup children forget to look for either of them anymore.

Everyday she stares with hope and yearning at the beautiful orange butterfly dancing above her little spot on the ground. So close and yet so very far away. Her eyes shining and sparkling she beckons her desired treasure near. But it will not do. Dreams cannot get that close to the ground or they will die. And so each sunset ends with tears of sadness.

A little blond child stops and watches her reaching skyward with curiosity and compassion on his little smudged face. Gallantly, he offers his wings to her. Her excitement is beyond belief. She doesn't even notice his tattered clothes and matted hair.

She leaps into the blue. Her day in the sky is magical. She dances around clouds and amidst oceans of dreams and laughter. Her special friend is the little orange butterfly perched on her slight shoulder. Even as midnight colors and bright twinkling fairies blanket the sky, she wants to stay but the nice little boy must be missing his wings. She drifts down on fluttering wings to where he sits. His face is beloved to her now and always will be. With tears in her eyes she carefully hands the precious wings back to her savior. He kindly accepts.

He hands her wings to her. They are no longer broken. He has fixed them just for her. She wraps her arms around him in the best hug she has ever given. A small movement catches her eye. The little orange butterfly is falling to the ground from her shoulder.

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Book covers and what's inside

The Master Librarian always says, "Never judge a book by its cover." The hard part is there are so many attractive covers. They look so enticing and exciting. Most of the other book covers are mediocre and thus just beyond my notice. Not that I judge them for it. Just ignore them. A few grab my attention because of their atrocious looking covers. I definitely judge those and I think those are the ones He's talking about. But there can't be much to love inside their covers when they look like that.

I peruse the selection of new books before me. I sort them according to their title and on a smaller level their state of attractiveness. Humming as I finish my job there in the library, the Master Librarian walks up behind me and watches my work silently. I hardly ever see Him even though He's always there.

My sorting is getting more liberal. His presence somehow makes my eyes see differently. Some books look precious to me despite the raggedy appearance. I feel his attention move to the previously sorted books. I can feel the prickle of guilt start inside my gut.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Little One." My cheeks burn as I go back through the piles and rearrange their order. I must see what is inside them before I can decide their place in the library. Some of the prettier ones have horrible things inside them. I'm horrified! Many of the uglier ones are so beautiful on the inside. Some of them I sit in wonder for hours staring at what I see inside them. A quiet nagging starts in the back of my brain.

One book sits in the back corner of the library. I do my very best to never touch it. Or dust it. Or come near it. That book has been there for a long time. I've never liked the look of it. It always made me mad to look at it. Sometimes I couldn't understand why the Master Librarian would make these kinds of books.

I look to His face. He knows where my thoughts have wandered. Suddenly I know that He took great care to put that book together and it hurts him when I avoid that book so much. I hang my head in shame.

Once alone again, I wander over. The book is dusted over and just as hideous to me as ever.

I gingerly pick it up. The book seems eager to open up to me. What an odd sensation to get from a book. I open the once repulsive cover. Wonder and amazement flood my entire being. Why hadn't I opened it before? Sadness replaces my feelings of awe. How lonely it must've been because of my aversion.

It took me a long time to see and it will take me even longer to learn to "Never judge a book by its cover."

An age old phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover.' Repetition usually denotes a valued lesson...it always falls on deaf ears. Learning often involves mistakes in retrospect. But those are the hardest lessons to learn. Regret is often their companion. But they stick longer.

Snap judgments can last a lifetime. And thankfully the Lord showed me the truth. All the bad thoughts, the misconceptions meant nothing to me. I was shown the soul of someone I had deemed unworthy of my love and compassion. But that was the biggest lie I told myself. They needed that part of me more than anything else I could've given. I realize all the little mistakes through the many years I've known them that had I saved judgment for later I might've made their journey a little lighter, a little happier.

To have a friend in someone who needs a friend so badly, is probably the most fulfilling role a person can fill. Hopefully I'm big enough to fill it this time.

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Monsters, beasts and the like

I listen carefully as I wait for them. They always come when it's the darkest. When I can't see them, only then will they come. The thud of my heart drowns out their coming, but I can feel them all around me. I can feel their empty souls. Ugly and lacking in light.

I try to elude them but the darkness is theirs. I kick and punch with all my might but nothing I do seems to faze them. My strength is being spread too thin. Too many.

Slowly they infiltrate the small space inside me. I scream but no sound comes out. The more space they take up...the harder it is to push them back out. They are cold and spiky. Prickly. My body crunches into a tiny ball, trying to squeeze them out. But somehow they've found more space to occupy. They reach into the parts of me that are weak and try to break anything they can.

Weakness. I can feel it piling up. How easily they found it all. How abundant it has become. There is no hope within me. It must come from outside. Anything.

Eternity drags by as the skirmish continues. Repetitive fears and worries flung around the room. Good always prevails...my time is coming...

Light. The Sun.

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And did not know it. What!

This little delight is me trying a hand at poetry. I spouted it out one day when I was feeling especially pensive about life and the "elusive future" (as Pres. Monson puts it) in store for me.  We all search for answers to what will happen to us as time goes by. Although I still sometimes worry about my future I know to whom I can turn for solace and comfort.

They say it like it's my choice. But how could it just be mine?
It can't be up to me alone, can it? That would be too easy.
The world isn't run on one girl's dreams.

And if it were up to me…would I choose the lighter road?
My decision weighs on the balance, not balances the weight.
Destiny doesn't change for one heart's high hopes.

In the divergence before me, I know what end I want.
Easy trails and smooth walking don't describe that road.
Life won't slow down for my feeble knees.

To take a step in one direction, I need to have courage.
But to reach that goal however, I can not walk alone.
He will walk beside me for my faith.

The world may not care for my dreams. He does.
Destiny may throw my hopes to the wind. He holds them in his own heart.
Life may push on without me. He won't move forward leaving me alone.

No matter the path I choose.

I usually have a hard time accepting the possibilities that life holds for me. There isn't enough solidity for me but that's exactly how God planned it. In order to progress I must take a step in the dark hoping to find ground beneath my feet. The solid ground of my Savior, who will always be there to support and succor me.

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Scottish traveling

The rain splatters across my windshield. The wipers scrape a grating rhythm. Poor weather stripping makes loud air whistle to get inside. No sounds but for these, the rain and wind. Besides its setting, the sun has long been hidden behind inky wet clouds. Hills and mountains shrouded in billowing fogs.

My long drive from the "Welsh" city, made mysterious by the dark mists. Cars few and far between increase the stretch of darkness.

Misty Highlands from ancient times, feel close. Looking through the mist to the darkened hillsides, I can almost see long ago Scotsmen. Bagpipe reeds drone a melancholy melody through canyons and ravines. Kilts of various tartans and half cloaks blend in a bagand procession. A longing rises in me.

The lands of my ancestors. The British Isles where much of my heritage hailed from. There has always been a deep longing within me to see the green covered lands of lore. The luring pull of unseen places and beguiling stories of yore, entice my mortal existence to adventures.
 
To see my homeland, turned into such a place by spring rains, always turns my mind and heart to those lands that lie so far away.

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Glowing inside

I sit inside this decaying mortal body. I've been trusted with its care. It functions well. But every moment is precious. Although there is strength and physical hardiness to be found, my gift is fragile. Any moment could find me flying back to the presence of my God, leaving it behind.

My beautiful perfection has been marred by some of the things it does. I feel bits of me being chipped off by the sheer depression of a mortal mind and the weak faltering of a carnal nature. I try to stop it. To warn it but while I am in this body, my voice goes unheeded a lot. My voice. It used to ring through the halls of heaven, but now it's small and quiet, barely a whisper. 

Words of encouragement drizzle down on me like warm summer rain. There is nothing else comparable to this feeling. The voice of the prophet of the Lord carries in it the voice of my Savior. My Redeemer speaks to me through his servants, words composed to lead me through the darkness into His everlasting light. The love and light in their eyes reminds me of moments before this life. Of a Heavenly Father and Mother. I swell with happiness and fill the shell that holds me here.

First Presidency

These are the moments that regenerate the light within me. The channel that mortality hinders, opens up at their soft words. The more light my mortal lets in, the less I am pushed back. The abundance of light that this gathering and teaching has provided always stitches a part of me to my frame. This is why I'm here in this body.

To become what my Father is. Light.

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Golden delirium

I watch the little white fluffs coasting down from grey low-cast skies. Street lights cast a glow of gold across the white terrain, almost beguiling me. 

But I'm no fool. 

There is no warmth on the other side of the double-paned glass that I look through. It is a false type of gold. 

Hell's gold.

The real gold won't come for a long while it seems. The presence of cold and slushy snow drifts acts to push back its coming. 

The world has been subjected to this cool silver season for a small eternity. Every year it seems to last longer than the winter prior. And colder. It's always colder than the last roll around. 

Heat. 

That's what I look forward to. Hot molten sunlight saturating my skin and hair. Inhaling spicy summer air, warming my frozen soul. Gold and lively green hues surrounding me and feeding my dull spirit. Sunlight reaching into every dark corner and refurbishing the winter dilapidated happiness.

To run through fields of lush green grass chasing balls and frisbees. To catnap in sunlight's warm embrace. To accompany nature's inhabitants through morning's first waking, along deer trails and mountainsides. To explore the wilderness of a hidden grove. To lay in repose, watching the clouds drift lazily across an ocean-blue sky. To watch tiny seedlings swell to adulthood in the sun's daily presence. To lose yourself in the pink and white frothed orchards.

These are what I hunger for and every winter I'm left wanting. Starving.

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Day of conundrums

First conundrum: To wake or not to wake?

Out in the world of the awake is a haggard life full of dreary colors and drawn faces. No warmth resides in earth*s first morning breath. The happiness of the sun*s rising has not yet come to pass. The remaining winter bird*s twittering and lilting songs are absent. No sane creature stirs from its place of slumber. A sombre existence in a cognizant world.

Second conundrum: To class or not to class?

A professor*s lecture; full of pomp and vague humor; falls upon many closed ears. Numerous thoughts revolve around a world of dreams and happy hauntings sporadically tapping into instruction. A scarce few nod to the beat of exhaustion and button their eyes secure to the drone of the professor*s lulling oration; which arrests sycophantic attention alone. The chosen subject parades no excitement or fascination to claim justification for the sinful earliness of the rendition. The sandbag man is a far more virtuous and heeded competitor in this dark hour. 

 

Third conundrum: to eat or not to eat?

Being that the first and second conundra coupled; cause for quarterhour shuteyes and hurried traveling; eliminating tardiness served as a consequence for cuffing the snooze button. Time warrants especial division. Gluttony doesn*t comprehend the college cuisine and time deficiency increases eradication. Barren cupboards and wasted spaces common corridors in scholarly quonsets.

Fourth conundrum: to cut or not to cut?

Safe paths on busy highways in blocks and rows. Cut pathways snake through glades and manmade forests frothed with cultivated ices. Danger*s path the quicker road whilst safety*s course runs straight and eternal. Time saved prospects point out slippery ways.

Fifth conundrum: to work or not to work?

Well earned bills and hard spent hours; counterparts work well with instruction. Double-crossing juvenile*s wander lazy patterns within dusted academies while worn out managers sings praising. Beastly creatures run rampant through lowered appendages chasing star sounds. Late leaving monsters grate on hearing aids and mentors. Shaved trees whir round signatures and metal spikes in endless rhythms. Creeping bothersomes watch through clear membranes. Racing to time*s clock to beat the lagging constitution. 

Sixth conundrum: to study or not to study?

Missed concepts from early mornings literally book-ridden. Reconciling weary eyelids and drooping posture steps to ambrosia. Waltzing figures catching butterflies and bowling bubbles in neighboring ballrooms cast shadows on rainbow walls. Rambling attention befits festivities and laughter. Social calls inhibits motivation*s flow. 

Seventh conundrum: to sleep or not to sleep?

Days lain awake; end results to rest. Began with sleep*s deprivement now swift to late activities at it*s expense. Life*s spent worries laid to rest at bed*s edge.

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misericordia Domini inter pontem et fontent

The ground is hard. It hurt a lot when I fell on it. My mother had to let me go. I want to cry but I don't know how. I can't see her. I don't have eyes yet so life is dark around me. All I can do now is feel and listen.

My entire being shakes with the rumblings of the earth. Noises penetrate my protective shell. She gave me that protection when I was still with her. Days go by I think. I feel the warmth of the Big Light each passing day. He is essential to my growth. But I can't grow much right now. It isn't the right time.

It gets really cold for a long time. It's so hard to survive on my own. Luckily the Light still comes around. It's nice to have someone to rely on. Whenever He shines through the snow I know I can make it at least one more day through the bitterness. Sometimes I just wish that I could grow all the way and be done with this stagnation. But the whisperings of my genetic coding cautions me to continue my dormancy. I do not understand the world around me yet so in order to survive this frail existence I must abide.

I don't know how long that part of my life lasts but I feel the snow melt around me. The warming soil lets me sink down into its protective depths. The voice of my instinct nudges me and whispers encouragement for my future.

It's time to grow.

Time has no measurement in my life. But it is of the essence that I am timely. My size seems to expand and I press against the walls surrounding me.  The protection of my shell has always been such a comfort to me, but I must not be restrained. With all of my might I burst through and see warm darkness. The warmth is a promise of seeing my old friend the Light.  

My roots sink deep into the Light-warmed earth and I anchor myself here. I soak up the living water and essential nutrients that saturates the warmth. I can almost feel my body filling with light. I have so much growing to do.

The surface is near. I can feel the air touching part of my searching fingers.

I break the surface. I have eyes. So many eyes. To see the world and the Light and His brightness all around me. I can't take it all in fast enough. There is so much wonder. I stretch out my first arms and devour the brightness from the outstretched rays of the Light. My entire body leaps into growth almost like a fire burning! I grow as many arms and hands as I can. I want to be closer to Him. It seems like such a hard thing to do. But every little piece of my body yearns to get closer to the Light.

Sometimes huge creatures move past. I see them ingesting the bodies of some of my family. This scares me but I push past my seedling fears to keep growing. I can see that I am still smaller than my mother. Her familiar love provides a canopy overhead. I see in her my own potential. Can I really get that enormous?

The voice that is always with me, my guide and my protector, fills my tiny mortal with hope.  It tells me of my future. I look within and see...the possibility of Me.

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Disgusting distasteful deceivers

The bag sits innocently on a shelf. Other bags surround it but this bag is different. It is new and exciting. The packaging is bright yellow with rainbow of colors flying about with an alluring pattern.

Skittles.

My taste buds are always pleased with the taste of the rainbow. Never has disappointment been the emotion I*ve experienced when devouring their deliciousness. I am definitely a fan of their delicious flavors.

Thus I am viciously betrayed.

The view before me suggests another package of fantastic flavor. The smell of sweetness somehow wafts from the unopened package. I take the bag of Skittles Blenders in my hand; checkout; and arrive home in a matter of a moments. I pull the colorful bag out of the grocery sack and open it to the yummy looking contents.

I grab a few of each color; intent on deciphering which flavors are the most delicious. I pop a few of the light green in my mouth. Meh. The flavor is definitely NOT a party in my mouth as I was expecting; a little bitter for my taste buds but overall a mundane flavor.

The next color; creamy orange; zooms into my oral cavity. Chewing. Chewing. Nope. Not a fan.

Pink. This is always a great choice. I can*t go wrong with this color. Surprise fills my soul. It isn*t tasty in any way; shape; or form. What had possessed the flavor creators?! My mouth is feeling completely unsatisfied.

Red; surely this color will give me some sort of delightful surprise. I shove the crimson candies in my mouth; determinedly. The flavor hits my tongue and...my tongue rejects it wholeheartedly. My mouth begins to complain and my stomach churns at the noisy orifice. There is no way I*m sending the abhorrent mass down.

Blue. The last color of the new Blenders* flavors. Perhaps I had gone through the worst colors first. This very well could be a flavor fest waiting to burst in my mouth with a magical sensation of ambrosial delight. Hesitantly; I put the indigo pieces past my lips. My entire body revolts! I have a mouthful of inversion inside of me! Luckily I*m able to remove this disgusting inedible stuff into the nearby trash can.

My mouth is extremely disappointed right now.

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Less timeless

I haven*t been here long. 

Just a little over a fifth of a century really. It*s timeless to me because it*s all I*ve ever known. I don*t have a specific beginning point to my memories; merely snippets of my past that shimmer in my conscious. It*s surprising that I remember as much as I do. So much happens in one day. More often than not; there isn*t enough time for it all.

In retrospect; time goes by like a pinprick. At the moment; it certainly doesn*t feel like it is. This is where regret falls. Maybe time isn*t as timeless as it used to be before. The closer I come to the literal meaning of mortality; the more I appreciate the time that has been allotted me. 

No matter how much I appreciate it though; it still has a way of slipping away.

So many silly aspirations flit about in my dreams. I hardly ever act on them. Fear. Doubt. Pain. I know I forget to live my life for fear of losing or for fear of change. Whatever the case may be; I feel like in all the 21 years I*ve been on this planet; I still haven*t lived the fullest life that I am able. I*m not a fearful person by nature. Any fear I may have; comes at another*s bequest. I*m really quite optimistic and laid back about everything. Which has proven quite worrisome to my parents many a time.

Time. What a small word for such an altering constituent of life. The best moments in mine; are the moments that I*ve spent doing what I love.

I love being with my family. But you and I both know that there is never enough time spent doing that. Every time I*m with them; I can be myself. No pretending; no facade; no tough face. But this is where life throws its curve. I never feel like I measure up. In a family where the genius and talented gene runs rampant; I never feel like I have anything to offer to the family name. I*m not dumb nor talentless; but my progress in life has been halted many times because of my fear of failure when compared to any of them. I wish that I hadn*t let all that time go to waste worrying about it because then I would have so much more confidence in myself whether or not failure was the end result.

Having so little confidence in myself; I can*t stand the thought of people thinking badly of me and that is my worst fear. Fear. It holds me back every time; even when I know it is ridiculously futile. 

If I spent more time doing things just for the heck of it; doing what I want to do; and less time fretting about others* opinions of me; I wouldn*t have so many retrospect regrets.

Fact; time isn*t long enough. But...

would I take the best advantage of it if it were?

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Sounds of the Summer

I stand there in the open space. My eyes are already closed and I take in a breath of warm summer air. I smell the spicy heat and the nearby alfalfa. The knee-length grass brushes my legs and the sun*s rays warm my skin. Lost in the laziness of the warm season my mind loses the need for focus and busyness. The warmth soaks into my body and my entire being is at peace.

The sounds of summer bombard my ears. The whine of traveling cars is a distant overtone to the ensemble. Tractors in the fields discing and swarthing; rumbling through their life*s work. Lawn mowers humming in nearby yards. The drone of an airplane flying low over the alfalfa fields echoes off the face of the mountain.

But beneath man*s sounds rings nature*s call. Crickets; hiding in their secret places; give evidence to their location; chirping a summer melody. Meadowlarks warble and sing their songs. The wind tumbles and plays through orchards; rustling the leaves. The cawing of magpies adds the brass to the animal symphony.

My puppy*s barking jolts me from my warm musings. The biting cold of the winter reality tingles on my exposed cheeks. A sigh escapes my lips. Winter is a time for nostalgia.

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Hazy

I fall down from the sky and creep down the mountains through canyons and ravines. My fingers seep into every crack, every orifice as I spread my being across the valley. Darkness is my friend and best companion and we give protection to those who seek it.

My thickness blocks out the sun and the sky. I surround and cover everything beneath me. I take chill and ice with me wherever I go. In the winter time I leave marks of the fabled 'Jack Frost' along railings and windows. My breath slips through leaks in buildings and touches every living thing. I am relentless. I cling to every surface that I can, drawing the warmth out of everything I touch. I have no substance but I am a wall.

No one can see what I hide. I hide the lovers' trysts. I hide the thief's scheming. I hide the world from every eye. No one knows what can hold me. The sky can only hold me for so long. I am wild and free. No one can control me. No one can stop me. No physical hand has power over my spirit.

I am what makes lake's mysteries stay mysterious. I am what shrouds the countryside with charm. I am cause for a poet's passion in a poem. I am the listless feeling of the clouds. I am the cap of a mountain. I am the warning of an ocean storm. I am the yore of the Scottish glens. I am in the morning. I am in the winter. I am in the cool spring.

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No place like it

I sit in my car, taking in the seemingly painted scene before me. Except for the light illuminating the air around the two story house, the world around me is blanketed in cold darkness. The silence and solitude that keeps me company, causes my stillness. I look to the beacon of light that this place represents in my life. What a wonderful feeling to return here. There is a sense of relief, of calmness. I know that here I am loved. It is here that my character was built. Here I have made memories.

Opening the door I climb out of the black vehicle and grab my things. The closer I come to the lit building, the more happy my being becomes. My feet barely the touch the ground as my heart feels lighter and freer.

The burdens of everyday life can be left outside at this place. I step through the threshold into the light. Warm greetings and shouts of excitement welcome my entrance. My face can't help but break into a smile. This place seems to increase the light in my spirit just by being here. Though the world has dumped snow on the world and on my life of late, nothing can take away the warmth and comfort here. This lit world within is my refuge, my safe place.

I can be myself here. I can find myself again. All the despairs and stresses of life are still a part of me, still looming in my mind but I can forget them...for a little while. I am filled with peace and tranquility because I'm home now. Home.

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Silence...

Silence.  I've come to realize that at the worst times in my life...silence is a killer. Silence in the dark hours of night or early morning is deadly because that is when silence can do the most harm. It's emptiness is far too comforting to my self-pity and doubt. My mind doesn't function well in emptiness or silence. There is too much that can be thought about. Too much that needs thinking about. Thus, a chosen pastime to fill the space that silence provides, is found. To think. 

In my experience this kind of torturing silence is always associated with darkness. The dark and I…have an interesting relationship. When I need to hide my tears or just myself from the world, the dark is my most beloved friend. When I feel alone, lost, or afraid, the dark then makes me, my worst enemy.

At this point in my life, darkness and silence are the bane of my existence. But somehow I cannot make my thoughts leave it for the light. That inane part of human nature is to wallow in my own pity, my own depression. To seek comfort from the light and life, is healthy and I recognize that. Somehow it isn't as simple as just going to a place of light. Darkness has a nasty habit of dwelling in the corners of my soul. Like an itch, it sits at the back of my thoughts and picks away at the feeble light within me. I used to have so much light and it was so powerful. It was chipped away because I allowed it to be. 

But in all this empty silence, I find myself humming... Abide With Me, Tis Eventide. The darkness loses its enmity and the silence...the silence. It is still there. It still presses on my weary hope and faith. But now I have something to hold on to. Comfort and succor comes from my Savior. He is the eternal Light that can replenish mine. There is hope. I now have the will to look to the light on the far horizon and not lose faith. I can do this, this thing we call life. And in a blink of my little green eye...I will be with my Savior and Heavenly Father for the eternities. Silence...

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