Breaking hearts never gets easier.
And that’s a good thing.
I try to enjoy the wind as it reaches me here in the open window’d car.
I hear the leaves talk too.
It brings me you
and the absence settles.
This brings me only memories and reminders that have impacted me enough,
to be able to come to me this way.
I try to enjoy it
but I only wish you were here
and that the breeze was not.
If we discontinued our lashing out at people and slow motioned our time with our reactions, I think we’d find a lot less irritable of a person inside of us.
I get that reactions are initial. They’re quite beautiful in that respect. Your response is beautiful in just the opposite way. You DO have time.
It’s like feeding the heart celery. As you make the decisions to respond after letting yourself think, you gain the creation of a possible habit and lose 6 pounds of ego centered mud.
Half the time do we even want to respond wearing a coat of anger?
Shedding that will take time and practice but we’ll feel a lot lighter and have less resistance towards people around us.
Besides, after a situation in reacting poorly, how many times does it return to a safe, comfortable place again?
So just skip the part where you insult others and just be collected and calm to begin with. That will generate enough good loving warmth that makes wearing the damn coat severely impractical.
Sometimes I think about you humans while I’m out. I was in Aisle 7 the other day and had the urge to just get home and write about how often I hate that I hide when I see someone I know.
I feel the comfort in my soul to know you are here. That I can come home to you and it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read all my posts to know what you can about me, but just the fact it is out there for your eyes to find. It’s part of a success. The amount that is laid out here, it is fascinating for my heart to feel.
It makes bringing the dark and scary and wobbly personas of myself to the table (outside of WordPress), more of something I feel capable of doing.
Thanks Cyber Room. For helping to make the other rooms of my house be filled with more me.
Sometimes I find myself in a closed room sipping on sugar cubes of my past. I keep taking from the same bowl, these perfect little fresh six sided sweets.
I feel the sides, I take the angles and I let dissolve and I let absorb.
Like with too much of anything, my insides will begin to cringe and unfold their exasperation and disapproval.
Every once in awhile, I step inside this place where I roll in the mud of my past. I let myself feel awful for my decisions. I pull in blame and frustration and I coat the whole room in these colours. I am angry and I am determined. I can’t do anything but eat the sweets that turn so sour, to crawl into cave where all I do is feel bad and wonder how I could have messed up so terribly.
Deep down I know. I truly do know. I had to do my past the way that I did so that I could reach where I have. I do align myself with motivation and self awareness, help and understanding, yet these spaces of time come to me strong every so often. I don’t remember ever really pushing them away, but at least now I know that I have the ability to climb out. That in another day or four, I’ll be positive and upbeat again.
I’ll soak in my sweet sweet truth of my life; everything from my perspective to the actual. I’ll make myself sick with consumption of my frustration and feeling of stuck.
When I’m done doing that, I’ll lay in sun and let myself soak that. I’ll let myself be sick on content and the ever always, ebb and flow of life.