Every Now and Again

Every now and again I let myself care.  I suppose it is that I forgot what the pain of rejection and dismissal feels like so I need to dip myself into those cold waters and swim until my limbs seize up and the breath is squeezed from my lungs and my heart feels as though it wants to burst.  Then, the only way to thaw myself is the shower of tears that fall.   My rational mind is mostly unaffected  it reminds my rather stupid emotive side that it knew better and had warned us.  There is not much to do but allow myself the luxury of irrationality from time to time.  The checks and balances of my psyche are a strange and marvelous thing. Actions are so important and if a persons words exceed their actions it is time to reconsider who that person is to you.  When you love someone, show it.  Be kind to them.  Treat them gently because life if difficult enough without adding to the burdens of our daily grind.  The Beatles sang that you have to hide your love away, and Goethe said *what business of yours is it if I love you* and I wonder anymore if there is truth here or simply too much of the pain that comes with opening yourself to the possibility of…. more.

Every now and again my heart wants to be found special and I mistake interest shown for something it is not… I do not understand why we cannot come with instructions and directions on how to find the parts of another that work in unison with our own.  Friends are just as precarious as the desire for lovers.  Too often we lose vital parts of ourselves in a quest to be liked.  Sometimes we give everything and get nothing not even emotional fulfillment.  An expensive lesson to learn… learn it the first time.  If you are fortunate enough to meet someone who gives back as much as if not more, love them well.

Try not to be bullied by your heart, it is a drunk, blind fool and will drag you into the gutter of misery and defeat if it can.  Sadly, no one will heed these words.  People will continue to be reckless and ignorant when it comes to love.  But me, I am pretty sure that I am getting tired of the cold waters so much so that I won’t be going to the beach.

My Favorite Hours

The construct of time is everything and nothing.

There are a few small hours in certain days that pass more rapidly than I want.

If I am careful the hours stretch like dough silky smooth willing to give as much as needed.  And I knead but am not needed.  I have not solved the puzzle of why me and not someone else… there are plenty of others there always are, never fool yourself, never lie. I tell myself little stories of plausibilities and stop my capitualting with sadly simple truths.  Actions tell a different story than words ever will.

There is a tender place inside of every living thing, it drives us toward irrational thinking.  I pretend I have clad this space in armor and thorns.  But in these hours the eyes it does not have peer through the tangle wondering if someone has come to break it free only to be reminded as it presses toward escape by a sharp jab which sends it crashing backward away from the light.

Perhaps I am wrong to cage such a wild beast.  I let it run amuck once I cannot say I regret it but I can say that I learned much as a participant observer. So that now when my neurons fire and my pulse dances in my veins I check myself looking for chinks in the chainmail or holes in the thorny hedgerow.

The problem I fear is not so much that there is a beast, but rather it is being tamed.  For there is warmth that builds in these hours and it radiates through a frozen core making me want to shed the caging and trim the thorny growth.