For Those Who Called in Concern

My Dear Guardian Angel,”R”

Well? What’s up with all the despair stuff?

Here’s this, Miss: Others cannot bear your pain, but you can. You always resurface, bobbing up like a cork with a smiley face. (Ok, sorry for that.)

But you know what I mean.

It is not their life – when they experience a slam-dunk of emotion, they have their own words. You manage to put it out there &, as you said, to share & show your care. Your plea for help will not go unnoticed & it will say for others what they cannot.

Others may witness, but they may not take the wheel of the boat to steer you into harbor, nor push you to do so. They can point, like the Ghost of Christmas Future, but only that.

If your vision is locked down in emotion, you’ll not perceive this at all. That’s perfectly okay. The words are given to you in their order & for their reasons. It is intent, one of the ways you bring about Change.

Yesterday was about letting go. The hotbath, the talk, the feelings, the scouring of Rose’s shop which yielded little to nothing. One small disappointment followed another – losing all your emails…unanswered questions…a crazy day for you, my anal-retentive Child.

Now you can work out that comedy routine you need to polish off for Open Mic this last Friday. Roads are clear & paths opened of obstacles Put up the fliers, hand out the broadsheets, laugh & beat the dream of the Future with a big stick, for it has brightened with the wash of your pain.

For those who console you, give thanks. They will smile to hear of your returned good cheer. This cloud has passed over your sun. you made it sound like the storm of the ages, but all that’s left is shining.

Soon the world changes: it will no longer be edged in darkness. The light will be brighter than you’ve ever seen, for the Father has taken up the polish & the Mother has surrendered her apron to dance.

Think of it as expressing the Community Angst. Give thanks the job of Sin-Eater has changed to writing words!

Don’t limit yourself to one kind of music. The blessing of your words is for all. You are the tool we use to focus, & if others catch fire, so be it. You have not been burned…blessing enough for this midnight.

Be well, my Little Old Lady. You make a fine wordsmith & your craft is sharp with unexpected Light, that all who wish to, see.

“Write on,” to coin the phrase yet again, stamping a new face upon the currency – write on.

Love,

R.

Happy Birthday To Me

Today is important, but only to me. Today I begin to explore my 7th decade on the planet. Today I plan to lay down new trails for more serious exploration, to turn away from old pathways that led me into soul’s harm – imaginary pain, taking offense where none was intended, poor habits of health, seeking not the perfection of the moment in the simple ease of drawing breath.

I might ask what I have learned & jot some notes: wordsmithing is a fine art, worthy of paeans of praise, but only in a literate society. It is a far better art to adjust to where the world lives now & dwell there. Yet in the places I cannot bring myself to gather up & enter – the worlds of Facebook & Twitter & Gab – so much energy surges, pulses, quivers upon itself, turning about & racing free. At times, I like the idea of hive mind; but only when applied to flocks of birds turning as one over the face of sunset. Humans need to unite over more than surface stimulus & unity of heartmind is so much more important than the latest line dance. Although I must admit, one might lead to the other.

Recently, I participated in a play called “Beyond A Reasonable Doubt.” it wore so many attributives: but mostly it was a moment of intense focus wherein all my energy applied. It was triumphant, except where it was not, where I took umbrage at my own mind’s seeming incapacity to remember long passages of mono/dialogue. And at others’ seeming inability to recall these as well. I lost my intensity as I reflected personal frustrations outward.

Recently, I took on an office job, thinking a return to a regular paycheck would remedy some immediate financial needs. Yesterday was my last day there, after six weeks. I simply could not relate to it in the way I once did.

Last night I did a 90-minute massage on a woman with self-diagnosed fibromyalgia. It was a barter that her friend offered to grant her ease from constant discomfort. I observe how the world goes around, kindness touching upon gift.

This morning I awake & seek new habits for myself. Once again free from rigorous scheduling. Momentarily, I scheme upon what I need to acquire, the “this n thats” of a life already out of balance financially. I opt instead for choosing new screen savers. From a wide open, sunny beach, I travel to misty mornings with a far dragon lifting wings upon her hill. This would seem a more fitting approximation of status. Comfort needs to rise above need – & a realization that I already am comfortable precedes acquisition. I offer “so help me, God” not as an affirmation of innocence, but as a softening prayer, for I alone am unable to overcome some ideas which need to be removed from the forefront. I need to turn the kaleidoscope one small twist. I choose to be more giving in the light of other’s gifts. None of us can afford largesse in my circles, yet we all practice it assiduously. Hive mind, indeed.

Lest this all seem too heavy for a promising morning to a day of celebration, I offer up a chuckle at how things turn out. The play was a grand success here in town. Word got out that it was good & we had a great audience turnout – a marvel in this half-horse town. I was lauded at a local restaurant with recognition … both a blush a treat! I’m told our play garnered more than any other offered this year by the local community theatre group. It caused rifts – one stagehand took umbrage at being told not to use her cellphone during performance, sitting in the audience. Obvious? But two people quit over it, while another was castigated by a fourth’s unwarranted accusations. More learning. Here, where a hive mind should have united in pleasure of success lay emotional carnage.

And lest this all be too heavy for a September morning where you live, ponder this: it seems to be a custom that the cast gives each other gifts…so because my character complained loud & long about having to wear manacles during the plea bargain session, our director gifted me with fur-lined handcuffs. Yesterday morning, I hid them in three different places before leaving for work; none safe enough from imagined burglars. I cast mind all day about where to pass these on…I’m not one for holding onto anything I cannot use in the immediate (!) nor intend to use in the near future (!). I dare not bring these to any of our local thrift shops…all goods are brought inside & inspected at these. And “re-gifting” them is far beyond my contact list.

From the sublime to the mundane with the stroke of a pen. Guess I can leave them in the packaging for my heirs to ponder when I’m gone. Guess I’ll continue to live well so as not to have this be soon…I can see me blushing from the afterlife!

Be well upon your days, my friends. Rest easy in your minds & hearts. Bring love to every encounter. Never surrender your ideals for less & always be aware how easy it is to fall in love just a little bit every day.

Peeling the Price Tags Off Life

Dear World, At first I thought these were separate poems…but as I reread them before this posting, I realize they are One Rant About Living Life. The choices are upon you, made from you, about you.

Jump on in!

PEELING THE PRICE TAGS OFF LIFE

One by one,

I scrape at these with ragged fingernails

Burning a torch in daylight

Nothing is as expected

Unless you cast off suffering

Reclaim your power

Lose the knowledge of being poor

To manifest the many lives we know

To be Available.

Stand still for no distractions.

Reach & clamp onto the wrist of the hand

Slipping into your wallet

Pinch it off. Cast it into slag heaps for the fire!

I am entitled; I am no commoner, no serf

Tho my wages are less than modest

My dreams are not

Each day is one more step into an

Unknown of my own making

Mal-informed, uninformed, misinformed

I take no heroes from among false gods

I declare myself immanent

There is no time left for dissimulation!

Our souls have been hacked

Our thoughts are written in the skies

We move in & out of credibility

With impunity; but life is not a fiction role

Where is your truth?

What has happened to your kingdom?

Where is your wealth?

Sucked dry by siege, by sanction

By laws against nature –

YOUR NATURE!

The sins of other’s fathers

Visited upon my ravaged soul

I would claim my own

Had I time to commit them

But I am wound about $9/hour

Still wondering if the coffers will

Ever clink with coin

To pay the owings engineered by other men.

I am in my own word-war, world-war

My own upsurge of independence

Created by simple aging

The four horsemen mill outside

Their minions ring the house

While one smiles, reaching for the doorbell

But I am not going to answer this call

I am no longer either in control of my thoughts

Nor in thought control…

I have moved beyond into a kind of

Lifelike improvisation

Where breath is enough

Where life is enough

Where love is never enough

Since that pushes me into the arms of others

To seek it, bring it, endure it, bow to it,

Embrace it, one from all, from one.

There is no denial in my life anymore

Only very careful choices,

Sifting thru the gemstones to find one that fits

The one that seats in my navel

Upleveling the energy of eternity

Emanating.

The blessing I place on my forehead

Shines on anyone more poor than I

Pulling them into a light

Where they dust off their lapels & fasten a flower.

I will be the one who makes it through

All Systems.

I will be loved, I will make my way

Cannot you see where your life has led you?

The life you waste in watching the lives of others

On a bright & fervent-fevered screen?

Outside, the sun is rising/setting,

Outside the skies dance with moons & stars

The air will feed you; the light is nourishment

Why would you forego this for pretending?

It is so seductive to live your own life

Free from corporate lies, medical rumors,

It is a privilege to worship the gods of my living

The angels of my choices bear me up

Out of abandonment

Into the fullest expression of life I can be.

I spend no time following the false

I worship no idles (sic)

My life moves forward of its own volition

Pulling me forward, pushing me upward.

Curtains open every day to new stages,

Stepping into palaces where I meet

The leadership of life to whom I will not give my power.

My life isn’t made of falseness

I recognize the limits of my godhood

I acknowledge the fierceness of my warrior-self

Fully. I juggle words like knives

Some do make me bleed,

None make me weep.

I have been known to make stupid choices

But only by others: to me they validate

Existence.

My life is defined by the next new pen I buy

(Herein my craft, my croft)

My boundaries gallop beyond any distance my aged eyes might see

For where the world ends

My imagination begins.

My rogue nature emerges

In the house I once divided

Yet pull back together now

The redeemers have entered

My social circle

We join hands & raise them to the sky

No longer silent, but voices raised collectively

In a song to rock the world from lullaby to

Willful march,

Be you fruitful in your thoughts; it will

Ring the world

Will take us out of comfortable orbit

Into prophecy & foretelling

Where the story ends well

Where the lovers get their Kiss

Where the wars subside into the very ground

They so bloodily seeded

The deceivings of the users

Thinking themselves possessed of forked lighting

Will instead experience my laser

Of shattering power

My brain will emerge

Through my heart

I will love the world back into being.

The Truth is not afraid of you.

Why do you fear it in return?

Your soul has never shirked from duty

To shepherd you into divinity

To reveal your god-nature

The certainty of this

Is writ upon the granite cores of worlds

Your parallel thoughts

Wrinkle stars with ponderance

The light of your being alone

Has stifled hunger, seeded worlds, changed a universe

In its course

The life you bring to life

Is unbelievable

Were it not to be believed by simple existence

Keep moving forward, keep holding forth

Your heart, keep offering

Your being to service

For everyone is more needy than you

By virtue of not being you.

With love,

Carol Borsello          9.15.2018

http://www.carolborsello.blog

Last Chances Are Seldom That

LAST CHANCES ARE SELDOM THAT

Betimes, I weary of this life, even my own name.

Far horizons sing more clearly every day

Tho I long for them no more.

The trick of the light

Turned to a trickling

After rising oceans

Stole the land I stood upon.

This place is only an awakening

I play at touch while longing for a full contact event.

I flirt when I long to fall & be fallen upon.

I bring forth this love like a treasure found in the junkdrawer.

So long pushed aside looking for a real thing.

There is only potential to be made of

Skin & tactile surface

These imply anticipation, a discovery of imagination…

All I need would be/could be given into Love

I am willing now, to release & relearn

To go public with private passions…

Bring me to the Gate, O Love,

I weigh the latch in hand & lift it free.

I could care less of being found beautiful

I am as you imagined me

Finally, in the state of knowing it so.

The thoughts of others so long imagined

No longer slow me down

Or turn me away.

They travel over me as water over stone

Giving off rainbows.

A quicksilver moment

The prophecies predicted you

But left out so much –

            You’re married

            You’re committed

            You’re entangled

You’re a stranger, really.

These are not up to my undoing.

We are close by circumstance only

Who started it anyway?

So unlike me, yet it must have been.

I am an ever-opening heart.

I am the last to love, an unmarked trail

Full of my own footprints,

Far too familiar from following alone.

The light has changed. I’m in another era

From that last bumbling home.

There’s a mystery as to what could be discovered,

The farthest indelible vista

Of the lover I see reflecting in your eyes.

I feel an impish sense of grace

A dance of infinite energy

Love animates my bones, adds a sparkle here & there

Smooths my skin, manifesting like silvering rain,

I will find you; I will sing you onto the waters where I walk

Upon your thoughts

I am always ahead of you…waiting

The trips & triggers of clandestine love

Surround me, a deepening mystery

Of which I shall not speak.

A white flash of light in closed eyes

Turns my sleeping head to you

I walk with my heart in both hands

This simple single offering to you.

Come to me

Remove the layers of obligation

Like overheating wool

Your heart is stiff with scars

I will make whole.

Offer me but a passing glance

A ticklish whimsy

My heart will do the rest

Take me at my words, this austere truth

Gone lush with longing

Only this: to feel you skin to skin

Like air in secret places

Cooling fevers of unknown origins.

It’s not that I’ve kept myself

For anyone, I’ve just kept myself

Because I didn’t know you were here to share this with.

Your hands stay at your sides

When I will them “touch me.”

Your body stays separate

When I will it to melt into mine.

Let’s redefine all boundaries

Bridge all separations

Because we’re made from love for love…

I can’t be shy about us any more

I love your smile; I beg your touch

I wait your arms returning around me.

I look at you

And there isn’t a “no” to be heard.

Last Chances & Random Rhymes

The lights are all off

Moonlight through the window,

Strange Venetian stripes

Make you exotic.

Words will not say this

Like your hands on my skin

Chilled & heating both

Speaking cell to cell

A communication nonpareil.

I need a man with long arms

Willing eyes – see past this skin

To the heart ablaze within.

Take me now, I’ll last forever

The end of time never so near

As when we kiss & match our bodies,

These beginnings opening fissures.

No word so pure as touch

Escapes this pen

Time has melted from the clock

Held tight to you again.

I promised to clean house

But I am writing poems

About backing into love

Since we cannot meet face to face.

There has to be a way

Around or through

I refuse to take this underground

When all I can see is your sky to fly into.

The Most Dangerous Words

Are those unsaid

They hide like thorns in greenleaves

They are unkind, unkempt,

Blackened by Truth.

I brawl & bawl & break open

As they pierce me.

Something is bleeding here.

All I ask for is a heaven

To rest in.

A sigh to rest upon.

A love to press into

To wrap myself around

All I have is reaching fingers

When we have to draw apart.

My eyes would fill with you

And not these tears

But love is a

Never-ending ending.

There is an alarm going off in my heart

Like that insistent reminder charm

Messages await.

But this is written in blood & fire

I die to hit the “send” key –

Releasing our love to the world.

I have made up a story

I am pretending your regard

I’m playing at becoming your fantasy.

Even at my fabulous age –

Desirable, warm, funny, talented…

The crest of love forgotten:

The Love of A Life again…

“Ping!”

Oh, there it is again

It’s such a short message I want to say

To just one of the eight billion of us here,

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Dreaming Change (Happy 4th of July!)

Have I dreamed this sea-change boiling across America? It’s a kind of Stadium Wave happening across our country as one group stands up, thrashes about, & another sits down.

In Hawaii & other places, land forms & rearranges itself, heaving from unknown depths in an incredible brew of white heat & black rock. Mountains slide sideways & crush nascent dams. The sun seems to fracture its light or appear as a shadow behind itself. Shorebirds land far inland as their photos appear all over media. Bears move onto porches to reside next to the woodpile. Whales beach themselves in unprecedented numbers. I certainly am not dreaming this.

We are threatened with 5G technology, a weapons-grade “helper” which is proven to confuse minds, cause headache, scramble thinking, sadly being installed in schoolyards. No way I might have made that up. What have “the powers” got against us? Why do they hate us so, to spray Round-Up on our fresh foods before releasing these to market, to redesign vegetable cells & redraw gene structures? I don’t want drought resistance laddered into my tomatoes, or insecticides rendered into my smoothie strawberries. I would love for the corn I buy to be corn & not engineered fuel.

I read about MK-Ultra-driven shooters, each with his own therapist/handler to bring out the worst prior to setting him loose in the populace. I don’t want to meet any Montauk boys – or girls for that matter, during the course of my day.

Information bears many prefixes: mis-, dis-, non-…but all I want is the straight story of events, their causes, their outcomes & how they are being addressed. What happened in Las Vegas & why do we hear no more about it? Were the men in black Kevlar at Parkland School unworthy of notice or comment by mainstream media?

I see short-sightedness & stupidity visited upon my neighbors & friends as a form of friendly fire masquerading as guidance. The skies twist in places, braiding clouds to bruise the logical mind. Groundwater disappears overnight, while downpours loosen rocks, in turn eradicating roads.

Whole populations rise from what they perceive as stinging insult, but instead of simple rhetoric, they line up cannons. Today I saw a star-spangled top on a woman while her significant other wore a sage green tee with a black automatic weapon stenciled on it. I actually wondered which was more representative of America at present.

Huge lines of people are on the move elsewhere & then become the butt of argumentative behavior wherever they try to arrive. I’m well aware not everyone is who they seem to be in these groups…no vetting has been enacted, the children with them may not be theirs & the Four Horsemen often ride alongside them, witting or no. But while we may wish them to return to their roots; this is an impossibility since the divide & conquer mentality of politicos has rendered their homelands deplorable. We created the problem we complain no one can solve.

We close borders to them, while our own destabilize, the very land humps & shivers, children disappear, economy spirals into the gray on the dollar bills, downgrading the green. We’re in an interactive system & need to recognize it’s a closed loop – atmosphere, nation-building, health – all connected in an intimate dance of creation & flow.

We have indeed released the Kraken we were assured might be controlled if only this, that, or the other happened. It rides the crest of the sea-change we experience, tentacles lashing out in fury.

The lies need to be refuted & remedied from both sides. The power to exercise global change must first bear some resemblance to what we wish the change to be. We straddle worlds so divided we cannot conceive agreement & attempt to enforce transformation. This clear & present danger to our individual selves & souls must be brought into order. At last glance, the Kraken was gaining, making this difficult indeed. The whole setup never came with an instruction book, tho many agreed upon what they perceived to be one in the Bible. Unfortunately, rules no longer apply & oratory serves no purpose.

Dissolving each boundary that is set, whether personal, political or perceptual, is sorely needed. Certainly, the world itself seems bent upon dissolution. But ours as humans came first. When promised heaven, what can we do with being delivered to hell?

Indeed, the storm is upon us & before its rage, we race for safety. It takes interesting people to live in interesting times, to counter the curse & give birth to amendment so enormous it is soon obvious we took on too much too fast. I don’t know where life’s demarcation occurs between forgiveness & right action, but I walk that thin line of light every day, in every encounter.

We each need to be great again as individuals for the country to be so. We need to curb the absolute power each one of us thought it so easy to handle. We have worn out the rule of law by applying it with force. Let us now try to administer it with love. It can be done. It is so quiet when we stop screaming. Change becomes possible, when love is used as the unerring power source to stoke its engines. Love is the only leash the Kraken will bow its scaly head to, rest its whipping limbs within, close its bulging eyes to rest upon.

Dig up your individuality, dust off all cliché it has rested in. Move your heart to the forefront, stop trying to think through unthinkable times. We must stop the harm out there to stop the harm being visited upon us. Do it now, as it’s unlikely we will ever have the full story!

Give the impossible its due: our hearts are online now, networked, hooked up, tuned in. Put the children in the center of the circle for protection, remove them from harm. With your eyes open to the future, attend to the present. Declare nothing to be unbelievable, even Peace in Our Time.

 

It Rained All Night

Such a commonplace event, rain. Unless you live in the Chihuahua Desert of New Mexico’s southwest where we’ve had no real rain since February when we had a day of windy-wet weather.

What resulted from a faraway “tropical depression” caused exultation here. A mothering rain fell all night. I woke at 3:30 a.m. to the gentle pulsing flow, swinging my legs from bed & rising with an energy I haven’t felt so far this summer.

I had left the doors & windows open, hoping for a breeze from Turtleback to breathe through & dissipate the built-up heat. To my delight, the chimes slowly named their notes from the yard pole as the rain began. The soothing sound of its fall, the distinctive aromatherapy of a desert releasing heat & sponging in moisture brought me straight downstairs to sit by the door.

The sun is a force of nature here. I joke the heat from the Trinity site (Alamogordo’s first atomic bomb) has revisited us since exiting outside is slowed by a solid wall of heat that stops all progress. I’ve lived here for years-at-a-time twice before, but this third time is exacting quite a struggle to stay cool.

Since I came from Delaware most recently, my memories are of north-facing French doors being sluiced by nor’easters, days & nights of drumroll rain, pouring water, bouncing drops, gusty winds all contributing to zipping up my Maine rain jacket & tying the hood tightly. The rain tossed itself against windows like someone outside was flinging buckets one after the other. Umbrellas were fruitless, turned inside out after two steps.

In T or C this year, the sun is different, intensified into a kind of microwave heat, immediately igniting the skin & clutching the lungs. Sometimes, I want to ask it what I did, it seems a personal affront when temps rush to 107 or 110 of a day.

It’s heavenly to wake to this gentle sound & sit by the screen to inhale moisture. The form & force of recent weather here has been argumentative & I’m so not in the mood.

This steady drizzle is an arpeggio after the crashing cymbal clang of relentless, raw, unnaturally white light. It is grace, softly miraculous, growing my sense of joy in the breaking morning. It’s a prayer answered, one from the people & the land together.

My poor garden fell victim to the unyielding heat. My water bill soared; I brought the containers to the local community garden with a sign saying “Adopt Me’ stapled to each. Many this morning will be offering gratitude that they need not uncoil the hose today & stand outside to relieve the powerful daily thirst of anything green-growing.

An uncomplicated enough phenomenon, this rain. I bow my head & accept heart’s-ease to its simplicity.

Carol’s Carousel

I don’t know what to think anymore. I barely know how to think. Anymore.

I have had to research bump stocks & look up Nikki Haley & John Bolton. I spend time poring over reports about McCabe & Comey to try to understand the current “political scene” when I want to scream at everyone in DC, “Will you just behave?

I am one of a generation which may die off before the changes so looked forward to may even occur (NOTE TO SELF: climb aboard the good ship Hope & stay afloat.) I don’t claim to understand transgender issues, being certain that I am a woman who has never wanted to be a man. Having a penis would really get in my way. I don’t want to leave my stem cells for implants into AI computers simply because someone knows how to do that & thinks it might be a good idea. Hooah!

I don’t get violence. Having been in & around the medical profession for most of my earth-years, I understand physical damage from savagery of any kind: mental, physical, spiritual, emotional. I predict for myself a gradual fade from life after accomplishing as much as I can towards healing on all levels. I’m weary of fighting for the money to buy food for my fridge. I could understand paying taxes if the pothole at the end of the driveway ever got filled; but knowing my money disappears into fitting a fin onto a bomb is distressing. But tax evasion isn’t an option I’ll readily pursue – I don’t look great in stripes. I’m feeling some nervousness about making the monthly payments needed to assure some quality of life, although I have the strength & power within me to work the odd jobs I encounter to earn my way into fresh veggies.

After years of plugging along, pinning slogans like “Be calm & don’t worry”, of framing thoughts like “following my bliss”, or “doing things for the joy of doing them”, I’m slowing down. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet ET’s with golden triangle heads or blue feathers. I have stopped listening to my formerly intensely-followed gurus. I’m cautious about signing up for Starfleet Academy or manning bridges of any kind. Once anticipated, I no longer eagerly await what may emerge from the future to surprise me. I’m really happy to sit in the sun right now, to stay out of the unreasonable desert wind, to watch my little green tomatoes turn into little red tomatoes. Someone once mocked me for “watching the clothes dry on the line” but at this point, that’s quite a satisfying pastime. It indicates the privilege to be clean in a world where so many are not given this option.

I’m happiest when teaching…helping someone figure out something: how to use their cellphone, for example. I live in a town where everyone’s grandkids have recommended they have the latest tech when the “grands” only want to be able to call the kids on Sunday night. “What’s an app?” they ask me, “Can I get the words to come up when I watch videos?” “How do I stop all these advertisements?”

I’m planning to teach a class called “About Email” on Mayday, & the more I research carriers, the more I figure I’ll sound like some paranoid nut when I tell them what I understand about the collection of biometrics by nefarious one-world-government scions, the retention of data by people who are totally not entitled to know that I wrote my friend about how I feel, whether political or pleasurable. How do I help learners to preserve their privacy or get them to understand there is even a need for this in a world where the providers are all-pervasive about control & have the morals of cats in heat when it comes to selling us out? The State does not need to monitor our computers. Seriously, nothing on them is that interesting. For myself, I don’t expect anybody at the State Department to grok my poetry or wordplay. I only have one way to expand into the universe & it is with expression of my personal experience as such. And it comes out through language. If “they” consider RIDING THE LIGHT subversive, my tax dollars are totally wasted.

I know old ladies are disposable as rain puddles. It doesn’t stop me from working towards what I call The Good. It doesn’t hinder me from offering time & effort toward helping others learn how to function at the basic levels of courtesy, kindness, care & understanding, of actively paying it forward. I know at any time some doofus with a God complex can take control of my car & send me over the side of a cliff where others will be endangered trying to retrieve the detritus left by that push-button destructo-mentality.

I guess I can’t explain where I am in the present moment. I had a reaction today at our quite wonderful book club discussion where a totally innocuous book sent me into a red-rimmed rage for no reason I can discern. Reading the book chapters aloud brought me to the boiling point wherein I rushed home & stared wildly about for an hour. It isn’t even a book I admire, but a reaction of this magnitude of anger is totally foreign to me and/or what it should have engendered. WTH? Is it the sugary snack before bedtime that has me so reactive?

At the same time, I am tired of being a spectator; I want to participate in life. I want to travel to see wonders of geography, I want to sit at the feet of a master & take notes on keeping my mind in discovery mode. I want to pay my debts off so the nervousness can re-settle into a joy of life so daily I take no notice of want of any kind. Bread & circuses haven’t interested me in years. It is time for me to expand my thinking to encompass God & the Youniverse to a mystical, uplifting, soul-thrilling vibration. I want to thread that needle spoken about in Scripture, so I can pass through it into either the grace of comprehension or Comprehensive Grace. Isn’t that my birthright?

I am so over Darwin & his purloined theorem about survival. I once read that the word “love” was mentioned 96 times in The Origin of Species, while the phrase “survival of the fittest” appeared thrice.

I once felt I could get closer to the answers of Life’s Questions as I aged. I foolishly thought the world would become more logical, the weather more habitable, my life more accommodating to happiness. I thought I would have friends, if not family, who looked at me with love shining from their hearts through their eyes. But now I rely on the comments of strangers to lift me through the nights. Now I have no ties to what is considered Reality. I opt for helping some with cleaning their houses, offering a class now & then to aid others in understanding the new tools available & coping with their use.

I often tell people I’m allergic to TV, but I still find myself drawn to videos on the computer which show the exotic Cirque du Soleil acts, dancers who can move their bodies as I no longer am able, political commentaries which contradict each other one after the next.

I am as confused as any teenager about my current identity. Who will I be tomorrow? What will my achievements count for…or against? This life made of chapters cleanly divided by time & (at times) geography, by the borders of marriages, the maps of spiritual pathways, the fulfillment of dreams. I’m acutely aware too many of the paragraphs in this blog start with my most personal pronoun. I need to be led into divinity somehow & overcome this tendency to consider myself only human. I used to be able to do that better. How come I’m losing the knack?

The last frontier is never that. Horizons rise & fall regularly. I’m alive so long as I keep moving – even if it is in a circle while the calliope plays corny music. Cuz I don’t know anything, anymore.