headTalk.

Its wetness permeating my skin
     now wrapped around me as a veil.

Solitude forming the disguise of comfort,
     choking my every breath.

Muting the pigment, slowing the pace,
     where mind controls span and reason.

Alone in woods where no other mortal can be found,
     my solitude.

We’re told to seek forgiveness from God for our own shortcomings.

We’re told God only gives us as much as we can handle.

What comfort is it to a 6-yr old child, used for sex, to be told God wouldn’t let it happen unless she could handle it?

When will God ask for our forgiveness?

What would it take to forgive you?
—To the one who tried to ask.—

Did you really think after two decades it would be enough to offer me $100 to buy my love? One Christmas in all those years would really be enough to make it up to me? The years you missed with me are worth far more than that. Had I accepted, you would’ve gotten a bargain. You, however are not worth a fraction of your offer. No, I won’t even consider accepting.

What would it take to forgive you?
—To the one who almost asked.—

You came to the door today, I wasn’t supposed to be here, you were expecting someone else to answer. A moment of panic for us both. No words said, and eye contact narrowly avoided as you handed the small box of my belongings to me. Behind the closed door, through a part in the window curtain, I watched you get into your car. You sat there looking back at the house and for a second I thought you might work up the nerve to turn around and come back to my door. I could see the struggle in your face as you made the decision to turn on your car and drive away.

What would it take to forgive you?
—To the one who never asked.—

If you showed up at my door today, unannounced, after nearly ten years of absence, would I let you in? I willingly admit I still love you. When you disappeared on me, I thought I would never get over it, never get over you. I am over you, yet I still miss the way you made me feel. If you could promise to make me feel that way again, even if for a small moment, I would let you in. But would that be enough to forgive you for the way you make me feel in your absence?

I’ve been asleep for years. I’ve been afraid to embrace life, friendships, lovers, etc… Someone woke me up.

I’ve been asleep for years. I haven’t been moving. Life is moving all around me, the sounds and visions make it through to my subconscious but I do not participate. I am breathing, my heart is beating but my eyes are closed. I am aware.

I’ve been afraid to embrace life, friendships, lovers, etc… I am aware. People surround me and I call many by titles such as friend and lover. I do not embrace these titles or participate or believe or reciprocate. I know I need to embrace, but I do not trust.

Someone woke me up. One person, one moment, my eye lids lifted. I saw with my eyes, I saw with my heart. I saw, for the first time, the visions and sounds that were available only to my subconscious and I began to participate. I began to embrace, believe and trust. I began to move.

Someone woke me up. It began with “Please trust me.” It began when fear ended.

For my eyes only nature’s beauty given to interpretation.

Yesterday morning was absolutely gorgeous. The sky was bright the sun was warm and everything seemed more alive than usual. I had time to kill so I took a walk down by the pond before heading off to work. I found 8 turtles sun bathing, a dozen or so geese including three goslings being escorted by two very over protective parents, and a Blue Heron wading along the shoreline. The dog chased frogs into the pond and Eastern Cottontails into the brush. I felt a rhythm to all the motion surrounding me. All that nature squashed into the same space fit together so perfectly. Surely, in moments like this I’m seeing a reflection of the face of God.

[originally posted in May 2006]

Time stood still for a moment.
The world was spinning by,
And caught up in it’s movement,
It felt good to be inside.
We share in this emotion,
Our hearts believe the lie.

I had a wool sweater once. Very comfortable. Very warm. Very soft. Big enough to be really comfy but not too bulky.

I sat on a friend’s couch one evening enjoying a brew and some tasty curry dish I can’t remember the name to. A friend across the room noticed my wool sweater, offered a compliment and unknowingly began a chain of events in my life.

I instantly felt betrayed. The sweater never lied to me. It never claimed to be anything more than what it was. I assumed, “If it looks like wool, it must be wool.” It was my own lack of desire to look deeper that kept me from the truth, so I can’t blame the sweater, it didn’t really do anything to deceive me. I just simply hadn’t asked the obvious question though all the signs were there.

This stupid sweater led me to examine every relationship in my life more deeply than I had before. Realizing that I take people, like the sweater, for face value, I began to see the qualities that make up those I interact with. I started to see people for who they really are.

Some friends I found desperately needed to be handled on delicate cycles while others do quite well on high heat. I’ve ended up parting with a few who had no real substance and, on the opposite end, I’ve gained some really great friendships with people I never would have expected. It hasn’t been easy, I wish relationships came with ‘care instructions’, but learning to look for the fabrics that make up a being has taught me a lot.

I haven’t been able to forgive the sweater though. I came home that night, threw it in the washer to rid it of the curry smell, threw it in the dryer (this was a first as I was so careful not to dry the wool sweater before), and threw it in a drawer. I didn’t wear it again all winter.

I had a wool sweater once. Now all I have is a sweater.

[originally posted May 2006, updated for this post]