I decided that I have been moving too fast and doing too much.
I opted out of the workout to write a little, because I feel if I don't put it someplace, I will literally self-destruct.
If you wish to read something uplifting or happy, go find another entry, because it won't be this one. My group would tell me I am feeling sorry for myself; that I should look at all the blessing in my life. OR, if I don't like the way things are going, change them. It could be worse, you may not have a job--or a leg.
I suppose all that unsolicited advice has its place. I am sure I have divvied out my pearls of wisdom from time to time--falling on deaf ear as well. Still, here I am again.
Lately I have had a hard time.
Call it dumb luck, carelessness, the usual bad timing, Mother Nature, fate, bad karma, Mercury Retrograde, the season, the day.. I feel that I have been cursed.
Things have shifted. I have shifted.
For a time I was feeling ok with myself--grounded, or at least working through my stuff. Then situations arise where I go back to self-doubt, beating oneself up, and asking myself, "What is wrong with me?"
I consider my family for a moment-- wishing that I had some kind of relationship with them that resembled normal. It would be nice to have someone to hold me and say it was going to be ok. I suppose that is what spouses are for. Or friends.
But I want something for myself. I want something pure and true-- and impossible.
I understand the eastern philosophy that you have to let things come to you. You must be open and receptive for those things to come. I have tried to be open and willing. And things have come...and gone.
And after 4 1/2 years I can't help but wonder what must change? What must I do?
How can be anything but who I am? How much longer must one wait? For life, for real companionship? For love? And at those moments--when my expectations are too high, when I am let down due to my own shortcomings, I feel myself turning wintry. Detached. I let go just a little more. Retreat into myself further. I insulate the wall even more.
To the outside world I will put on the face. Be as productive as I can and throw myself into my work. But inside, I am little more than a pulse with legs.
Here's to a warmer season...
And because love battles
not only in its burning agricultures
but also in the mouth of men and women,
I will finish off by taking the path away
to those who between my chest and your fragrance
want to interpose their obscure plant.
About me, nothing worse
they will tell you, my love,
than what I told you.
I lived in the prairies
before I got to know you
and I did not wait love but I was
laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose.
What more can they tell you?
I am neither good nor bad but a man,
and they will then associate the danger
of my life, which you know
and which with your passion you shared.
And good, this danger
is danger of love, of complete love
for all life,
for all lives,
and if this love brings us
the death and the prisons,
I am sure that your big eyes,
as when I kiss them,
will then close with pride,
into double pride, love,
with your pride and my pride.
But to my ears they will come before
to wear down the tour
of the sweet and hard love which binds us,
and they will say: “The one
you love,
is not a woman for you,
Why do you love her? I think
you could find one more beautiful,
more serious, more deep,
more other, you understand me, look how she’s light,
and what a head she has,
and look at how she dresses,
and etcetera and etcetera”.
And I in these lines say:
Like this I want you, love,
love, Like this I love you,
as you dress
and how your hair lifts up
and how your mouth smiles,
light as the water
of the spring upon the pure stones,
Like this I love you, beloved.
To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.
I don’t know anything about light, from where
it comes nor where it goes,
I only want the light to light up,
I do not ask to the night
explanations,
I wait for it and it envelops me,
And so you, bread and light
And shadow are.
You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,
and to those who want to hear tomorrow
that which I will not tell them, let them read it here,
and let them back off today because it is early
for these arguments.
Tomorrow we will only give them
a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf
which will fall on the earth
like if it had been made by our lips
like a kiss which falls
from our invincible heights
to show the fire and the tenderness
of a true love.
Pablo Neruda
