Snapshot

the photo's faded

and not like we remember

the picture never did really

look the same

colors run

together inside

the darkened walls

of forgetful minds

it looks like time

is out of order

these fragments of memories

in clarity attest

the images are jaded

here on the page

and nothing like

the reality we've known

No Hablo Español...

Ok... so, I have this friend... A fairly new friend actually. One of those friend-of-a-friend deals. So, I don't know this guy REALLY well, but I think I'd like to keep him and his wife as friends. They're fun people, they live nearby, and we share common friends and interests.

There's a fine line that one walks when they're new to any relationship, the one that so many people can't even see when they're first dating or developing a new friendship with someone. You want to get to know each other. You want to like each other. You want to do whatever you need to so that you don't upset the fragile balance between you. At the same time, you both know there's no such thing as real relationship without honesty and authenticity so you can't just go along with everything the other says... especially when it goes against what you believe.

So... he starts ranting today about a the subject of non-English speakers (a.k.a. non-natives). One of his customers was mad at him because he doesn't speak Spanish. This is not the first time that this has happened to him in his job and I understand that's really frustrating to him. His response, however, was, "you are in america we speak in english, learn it" and "I find that to be pure lazyness on there part when they to the usa. the gov needs to be more strict about that."

Now, I'm not picking on him (well, maybe just a little, but I swear it's all in fun). I've encountered this sentiment repeatedly in varying degrees, and I'm using him as an illustration because he's the most recent example, and because I'm fairly sure he can handle me poking a bit of fun in his direction.

So, here's my view: I feel like all cultures and ethnicities should be appreciated and valued and, yes, even celebrated. However, I also feel that it is important to learn to relate to the culture in which are living. So while I feel it's important to maintain a sense of individual heritage and even language (which is, for a lot of people, a huge part of their identity and self-worth), it's also a necessity for people to learn the primary language of the country in which they live.

To further clarify, I think that it just makes sense, if you're looking to be a part of any culture, to become a part of that culture. One should NOT expect the world to bend to them. I would not travel overseas and expect every person I meet to speak English. But the main difference is, I'd probably find someone who speaks English in any other country much more quickly than I would find someone to speak Spanish (or any other language) here in America (particularly in rural PA).

We in America are incredibly insensitive to those who do not speak English as their primary language. As another friend countered in this debate, "I suppose the next step is that we need to get rid of thick accents, right?" Now, her point was delivered with all the politeness she could muster, but I know that she takes this subject very seriously. And, I don't think that Friend A was expressing this depth of "animosity" toward non-English speakers, but I honestly don't know as I don't know him all that well. But, I've heard that sentiment as well, usually in association with annoyance of a generally racist nature ("I hate calling Customer Service lines and hearing that 'Muslim' accent.")

I do think (with all apologies aimed toward Friend A) that it is rather hypocritical for someone to complain about non-English speakers with improper spelling and grammar, but then, I realize that not everyone is as linguistically minded as I am. I just find, in my own personal experience, that since most of the world is bilingual, we merely display our ignorance when we act and assume superiority on these types of issues. Just sayin', it wouldn't hurt us to learn some other languages.

Some days, comments like that from friends would really annoy me. Some days, they'd roll off my back, barely noticed. Today, however, is apparently a day when I come back with snarkiness and a blog rant.

On The Edge

They tell me to relax

to let go of it all

while I teeter out here

by myself

As if that's all it would take

to call me

somehow

into the center

As if it's really that easy

just one small step

As if there isn't this wall here

obstructing my view

hindering my path

As if I even belong there

and not banished outside

wandering alone

unsteady

So, I'll let down my guard

and try to relax

allowing myself to let go

And when I inevitably succumb

to gravity's embrace

I'll fall in sweet bliss

Knowing I'm finally where I belong

What The Darkness Proposes

The lights went out

and the power went down

but the energy only increased

As long~dormant dreamers

in mystical madness

became children of nighttime released

In silent seduction

they cast off the confines

of whatever they'd been told to do

Filled with the thrall

and the wonder that waits

living fantasies somehow more true

As starlight collides

in the frenzy of freedom

that sleeps in the deadness of dawn

The pointless pursuits

Wasted drowning in day

Forgotten as Nox rights all wrongs

~~~~~~~

Today's creative writing prompt from A Writer's Book of Days is: "Write what the darkness proposes."

Shattered

Razor-sharp splinters sink into the mud

embedding themselves in permanence

These pieces of Eden left from the fall

fracturing light-scattered shadows

Drawing blood from over-scarred wounds

in the semblance of healing power

The colors of passion, of hope and trust

when ignited with joy become beauty

Alone these pieces are nothing but pain

but together they make something more

Temptation

I danced in the rain

on my wedding day

on the thirteenth day of June

I've boiled the milk

and cried when it spilled

because I somehow lost the salt

I've slept east to west

on the bed facing north

and messed up the sheets on Friday

And I've dropped my umbrella

on the hard wood floor

as I sneezed in the chill of the draft

So I'll lurk under ladders

but I'm done hiding in shadows ~

a black cat ready to pounce

And I won't wait seven years

before I gather up the pieces

of this shattered and dying reflection

Rain

twirling in circles

'til we all fall down

in a panic of frolic

and endlessly spinning

captured in trails

like dogs in a frenzy

defending themselves

from personal attack

bead~covered glass

shields the elements

from all that's inside

as a drop breaks away

in inertia's grasp

slowly sinking at 45

degrees of freedom

not long thereafter

another bead breaks

falling more quickly

at a much lesser angle

trying to follow

but landing alone

caught in unyielding distance

of altered perceptions

and geometric dissonance

over time's senile space

Doubt

the questions

this shadow

rising around her

threaten to strangle

what doesn't succumb

in this room

no one sees

the stuff of life and proof

and the echoing silence

from shattered remains

so she waits

barely moving

seeing glimmering time

trapped in her mind

sole dysfunction of haste

its darkness creeps
into corners of light
causing the answers to turn

chasing truth under rugs

as she grasps at the strings

Moss

Now I lay me down
to sleep upon the ground
as icy fingers creep
slowly through my bones
numbed to everything left
inside this empty heart

the agonizing pain
which makes me insane
is knowing I can't fly
without falling on my ass

so I'll curl into a ball
safe inside these walls
and find the only relief
left here in this dark place
like feathers on my face
the beauty of this comfort
in the midst of all the pain

~~~~~~~

Today's creative writing prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: "Write about a pillow."

Channeling the Ancient

'When I [Mitch Albom] asked the rabbi, “How do you account for all these different faiths? How can they all be right? Isn’t just one right, and the rest wrong by default?” He gave this example of trees. He said, “Do you believe that God made trees?” And I said, “Yes.” And he said, “So why didn’t he make just one tree? Why did he have to make a bunch of different kinds of trees? He’s God, and if he’s going to call this a tree, why wouldn’t they all look like this? But he made oaks and pines. Why? Because they’re all varieties of God’s creation. Why can’t you look at faith that way?”'

I am discovering that I'm a mystic, a contemplative. I think that I've always known this actually, but the reawakened poet in me is resonating with this form of spirituality more now than ever. My faith and my spiritual journey have become far more real to me and I'm finding this silent contemplation and the quest for deep spiritual connection to be the only things that truly fill my soul or fulfill me as spiritual being.

But apparently this is the stuff that scares a lot of Christians.

In my experience, something about the possibility of being wrong, or the possibility that God is more than a series of rituals, rules, or religion terrifies those who've been raised in the "Christian" church. Because to most people, admitting that we've missed the point (by having assumed that organized, mainstream "Christianity" is the only true path to God) means that we've somehow wasted our lives. But the thing is, nothing is a waste if it's leading us to a deeper and more meaningful relationship with the Lover of our souls.

I think the problem is that at the very core, all of humanity is filled with the same "collective consciousness" ~ an awareness of the supernatural ~ because we're all created by the same Supreme Being, regardless of what we call Him/Her or how we express that awareness. There's the deep yearning for something more, the need to search and sort through the great questions of life, and an innate desire to connect on a spiritual level.

And it predates Christianity. It predates religion in general. It goes back to the very beginning to the "God created..." where it was simple ~ a relationship. There was simply a man and his God, until the relationship shattered, and the distance was created. And as time moves along, that distance widens and deepens and humanity struggles to find that path back to God.

And we do what we can to find it. All things lie within our hearts; placed there by God. I think a true desire to find God will lead one to the appropriate path.

Jesus declared Himself to be the ultimate example: the way, the truth, the life. He lived a life of servitude, a life of humility, a life of love, and a life of contemplation. And He is the embodiment of this way to God. Those who KNOW Jesus will find God.

But what of those who never had the chance? How about those who spend their lives seeking God and never hear the name Jesus? What if we've entirely missed Jesus' point? What if those people know Jesus better than all of us who fill the chairs in our sanctuaries every week, sing our songs, and pray our prayers?

I'm not offering answers here. I truly don't have them, but what I do know is that it's ok that I don't. If I did, I wouldn't need God. I would assume that I've "made it" and I would be no better than Lucifer who decided that he was "like God" (leading to his expulsion from heaven).

I will walk the path to God without apology and without fear.

I will continue to seek and use any tool from any religion that is available to me to do so. I'm not afraid to admit that God is bigger than Mere Christianity. I'm not afraid to walk a labyrinth, or light a candle in memory of someone I love, or see God's fingerprints in the sky and hear the voice of Love in the wind. I'm not afraid to challenge the status quo of Christianity, to throw off the rules and regulations set up by those who have bought into "Christianity" being the only answer. I am not afraid to allow my spirit and my soul to explore concepts of communion with God and others through "non~traditional" means. I'm not afraid of the "new~age" movement which is, for the most part, little more than a reawakening of ancient spiritual practices on the road to understanding God. What goes around, comes around and the wheel of time keeps turning.

For those of you who've read this far and are now praying for my soul, I will reassure you that I do believe in the the basics of the Christian faith. I may not interpret everything exactly the same as all of my Christian friends and family, but in what matters I can agree.

I just know there's more to this "abundant life in Christ" and my God created me to be this way for a reason. I intend to find it... or die trying.

Carving the Moon

I don't want to talk

about crossing the lines

or standing in corners

or traveling through time

I want to dance

in the circle

of pale moon light

and know that it's here:

this water

real life

We build all our boxes

to keep us inside

on this spherical planet

in "linear time"

Creation repeats

through living

through death

and the planets evolve

over seasons

endless in years

Why shouldn't I feel

that there's more here than this?

That hell is a myth

and heaven doesn't exist?

What was will be over

again and again

co~existing in echoes

of what we've reflected

in the moon

in our souls

I don't want the answers;

I'll live with the mystery

of time overlapping

disregarding our history

Hanging

it's in the air

this weighting

words

each one

drenched and drowning

in permanent change

and uncertain instability ~

indecision

dangling in danger

struck again

merely waiting

finality of judgment

as the jury deliberates

who will make the final cut

The Wish

Close your eyes

and hold on tight

to moments

missed and misremembered

Take a breath

and picture

what you want to be

Another year older

decades wiser

but eons more unsure

of where this path will lead

Exhale slowly

and then let go

of all you think you know

Progress

There’s a girl inside
shoved so deep down
I don’t know that I remember

She’d come out sometimes
to play and dance
in sweetened haze descended
from liquid fire consumed
before such freedoms ended

She’d like to have friends
and not need to hide
under layers of lifetimes
insignificant confines

She huddles under labels
like blankets people gave her

crazy and insane
unstable and careless
heathen and faithless

Disregarded again
as nothing more interesting
than silly
… immature

but her view is something different
buried beneath pain

so she swallows one more pill
and follows prescribed methods
living up to outer expectations
to function on the inside

But even now
as she submits, she wonders
if she’ll ever fly again

her heart is somewhere outside
this grand façade of sane
Not big enough to hide the pain
Not hard enough to protect her
from the one she longs to be

Chill

I feel

so tired as the wind

moves in. Like

the back

of someone's hand. Struggling

to move even one step

forward.

Mostly the colorful aroma flirts

with my senses, teasing

me with it's psychokinetic

instability. Forcing me

to notice the exquisite

agony as the charm ascends

and insight spreads.

This pristine production

on a backdrop of pretense ~

a generous remedy confirming

a malfunctioning creed.

Caught

in the imagination of one's

sanctity

erased, the end

results in hyperbolic

minimalism

in the dangerous safety of

rejection's lovely

embrace.