It's only fear..

“Fear is only as deep as the mind allows.”

— Japanese Proverb

It was time!

Time to face the very demons she's tried to avoid her entire life.

It will be hard!

Yes, she's forgiven them, or has she?

and will that be enough?

Her heart races, her gut screams,Be careful! You're treading on dangerous territory!

The snakes that are fear coil at her feet, their venomous tongues flicking furiously as they wait to be fed...

discomfort grows

turmoil ensues

her resolve begins to fade

But wisdom prevails

She refuses to be consumed...

not this time

It's only fear

"It's time do this", she says with a confidence she's never known, "We've got important things to discuss." 

Dismissing her fear, this time she knows she'll succeed.

  

  

Mastering the art...

Hmmmm.....I've been tossing around ideas for hours.

Should I write something deep and throught provoking?

Should I write something light and humorous?

I begin to write

draft after draft

No, too deep!

No, too cheesy!

No! No! No!

Wait! Finally, I've got it!

I think I'll write a  compelling slice on the controversial art of procrastination...

Tomorrow!!!

A story I cannot tell....

The story is true but not for the faint of heart. For that reason, I barely speak of it, even in my dreams.

Her tormented eyes still plague me, fragmenting my soul with images; refusing to let me forget. It's over now, but that's not the end of her story. In fact, it is only the beginning of a tale so haunting it's much too painful to write. I must find a way...

Will my heart ever find the words?


Once upon a time there was this lady...

To be continued...

Riddikulus

She stands alone, realizing it's now or never. She's ready. Life's been preparing her for this moment since the day she was born. The hard lessons have fortified her strength. 

Today, she marches into the battlefield, armed with the power of knowledge and determination, awaiting her adversaries undeterred. Her heart beat quickens,  excitement fills the air....

As she faces her fears for the very first time, she smiles! heir not that scary at all! 

Riddikulus!

Embracing the messy side....

It's not for lack of trying!! I continually strive to be more like my calm, collected, perfectly organized, "annoyingly" logical, left brain friends. If only I could be more like my them... I dream... I envision...I emulate ... only to have the other side emerge....

It's not that the other side is bad, it's just different.... More chaotic, more passionate, more heated! It's the side of me that is obsessive and compulsive, and fun. It's the side that can spend hours on end searching, reading, writing, drawing, plotting, or praying. It's the side of me that gets overly excited, takes everything to heart, and is capable of loving and hating the very same person at the very same time. It's my artistic side, my sensitive side, the side that will listen intently one day, and barely hear the next. It's the side I am always trying to improve and forever trying to defend.


It's messy!

I think too deeply, care to deeply, love too hard , get angry too often. I forgive, but never forget, and sometimes I only "think" I forgive.....

It's exhausting! 

Oh, how I admire the logical, organized, decisive peeps that live in my world. How I envy their apparent ability to glide through life with a sense of serenity I can never seem to achieve. The decision makers, the organizers, the intellectuals who use logic, and never base a decision on raw emotion. The people I can always count when I really need a friend. 

I like to tell myself that one day I'll be more like them,  but after all these years, I don't see that happening. So for now, I'll  work on embracing the messy side. For only then will I be able to embrace the real me. 

A prayer of gratitude

Soft morning sounds rouse me into wakefulness. I stretch, I yawn, I rise, reveling in the precious peacefulness of these predawn moments. I gaze through the window; hoping to remember. The inky blues and muted purples of twighlight meld, seamlessly before my eyes, into radiant golden hues that represent hope to a waking world.

I sigh and whisper a prayer of gratitude, thankful to bear witness to the glorious beginning of a brand new day. 

All she could do...

She sat in silence, her body soaking up the golden rays of the morning sun. 

They needed to talk, but she could only listen.

They were the same she and him, cut from the same cloth she could practically read his thoughts. His stormy eyes flashed in her direction, stabbing her with his despair.

Her instinct was to console him. To touch his shoulder, to coo soft reassuring words, to smooth his tousled curls like she had when he was little.

But she sat in silence, absorbing his pain, wrapping herself in the armor that is motherhood.

The hands of time had shifted her place. With compassionate soul, and thankful heart, she lovingly stepped aside.

She knew he needed to find his way, and all she could do is listen.