The Dreamcatchers Saga Video Clip #1

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The If Factor

So, I know this boy...
Who is really a man but let's just say boy.

I could never figure out how I feel about him. I know I love him, but the bitterness it's mixed with makes it false. No, the love is not pure the way that I feel it should be. The way that I have taught myself to love does not apply to him. Because I hate him too. Or his decisions, or toxicity, or lack of thereof, or personal self destruction mixed with self gratification mixed with selfishness of his entire being mixed with...

Well, fault.

I hate how he has never thought of anyone else even though I know goodness is inside of him. I despise how I can see the light in him at times but how it's never strong enough to win out over his darkness. I grew up believing that any form of light can snub out all darkness. What do I do with that belief now when I have witnessed how untrue that is for him? I hate his negligence on everything that matters in life and how he doesn't realize how much is at stake. I hate how I only become important to him when he has no one else because they all have already walked away. And I hate the bitterness that I feel. A bitterness I need to surrender.

I tell myself to love. Love those who are hard to love even harder still. Love intentionally. Love recklessly. Love fully. Love initially. Love the flaws. Love the beauty. Love the paint others cover themselves in. Love the humanity within them. Because I have all of these things too. And if I can't love them then how can I love myself?

But he makes it hard.

And I can't save him.

And I don't know what to say anymore so the silence is filled with more silence and more silence until we are buried in it and I can't breathe. Until I feel the gap between my life and his. Between his truth and the real truth.

And I don't understand and I can't fathom why I just can't get it. My entire life I have always known what was at stake, what could fall through, the people that could walk away forever. So I keep them. I make sure that I keep them close and put them before myself and look from their perspective and sit where they have sat. I make sure to try and feel what they have felt. To simply... keep them. Because it could all fall through at any given moment.

So, no, I don't understand where he's coming from or where he is going or even where he will be at eighty years old.

But I learned long ago from a very different boy that I am not a savior. A very different boy whom I let drown to finally save myself. And I have no regret of that whatsoever. I still dream of him. But now he a thing of nightmares.

He lives with the monsters and ceases to exist anywhere but in a realm of the past that I never did have. Because now it's gone. But I take away the knowing that I can't save anyone. Especially from themselves.

The potential, the worth, the consciousness ebbing away before my very eyes. And though I have tried and tried I cannot live with that. Because he embraces darkness and I fill myself with light. And we all know darkness and light cannot live together. Neither one can thrive. Maybe I can pump him full of light. Put it in an IV and allow the needle in his vein to bring him back to a life he has no idea is possible. It can mark the beginning of a very different needle then the ones he is used to. Maybe the light will fill every cell and membrane and he will forget who he is so he can begin again. Maybe it will spill over and then I can forget too.

And if that were to happen, maybe the love would not be tainted.

 But that is a lot of if's...

Made of Dust and Color

We wait and choke. We think and re-think, training and retraining ourselves, our mind, our spirit. We release a thousand years of societies conditioning. We sit alone and detox sin from our flesh or we may unify to feed each other what we can't feed ourselves. We all want a small taste of absolution.

And we wait. Meanwhile we sink. We feel the most alive as we are drowning in our own skin and starlight. Made of dust and color and magic from the universe so intense that it engulfs into a kaleidoscope of light and fire. Living a million years searching for anything that means something. Something that you and I can't find in material possessions or a strangers love. We seek, wandering, and yearning for a piece of our soul that has seemed to escape. A piece of our soul that seems to be in another world that we cannot enter. There we live, half alive. There we live in addiction and a need and want so great that we thirst a thirst that cannot be quenched. We are a dry well.

So we wait but we don't always suffer. As we search, we can find. As we knock the unimportant things off our list of regrets, we breathe. When we can finally stop being so damn scared maybe we can become whole again. Can you imagine? Dear friend, can you see it? I can see us. Fully alive, eyes wide open, and aware of every fiber of your body and soul. Electricity will finally burn at our fingertips, our feet will find gravity, our heart will be united with truth as it drips from our tongue like sweet lavender honey. Finally, we will know that our soul hasn't abandoned us but we have abandoned it. We will find it residing with the light, simply because a soul cannot thrive in darkness. So what has ever made us think that we could?

Maybe one day we will figure everything out. Or maybe we won't. Just maybe the latter would be best, because once we have the answers what else would we ever have to learn? Would our quest be over and our mark made? Maybe our questions are really one of God's unseen miracles.

Our Questionable Journey

Starting from square one, and listening to Taylor swift songs on the bathroom floor, I realized that I never stop growing. I never stop expanding. And I never stop doing. And as I grow, as I expand so does my writing. Everything that I write develops into this phenomenal spin and kaleidoscope of reality and hopes. And I have faith that it will find it's voice, that I will find my voice, and it will change something or someone standing still.

I am a Taurus. And contrary to widespread and popular beliefs I welcome change. I don't like it too much at once. I don't like the negative (but who does)? But altogether I do welcome it. Because change is adventure. Change is a new chapter. Change is possibilities. 

Once upon a time I wanted everything to stay the same. I even sang about it. But then how does one grow? Growth isn't always suppose to feel good. And like a child does with their own growing pains, we will whine at times, maybe shed a few tears surrounded with complaints. But in order to flourish and flower and reveal my true self then I will accept that. 

So, no. I don't write about the things that I did when I was fourteen and fifteen. Words intertwined with the memory of puppy love and a blue eyed boy. I don't write about the same things that I did when I was twenty. Songs of brown eyes now and an acceptance I have never quite found. I don't even write the same words down that I may have had just a few months ago because I'm not that same person. I'm not even the same person I was yesterday. Because even though everyone wants to tell you to grow up or that we will all understand some day, we never will. Because I am convinced we will never stop growing. Not until we're in the ground and fade into a quiet memory. And we will never understand what is impossible to the human mind because NOT understanding just may be the journey in life. And if we have it all figured out, if we have no more questions to ask, maybe that would be the saddest part of all. The very real end of a journey that no one else could take but us. 

Along with the changes in my writing. Along with the changes in my soul. I am also okay with the uncertain, ,with the inevitable, and with the questions that we carry with us always. And that is enough.

~Barefoot. Woven. Human~

Life. Visions. Seasons

The Simple Release

I haven't written in a while. I've been sitting, stagnant, unrelenting--- waterlogged. I've been just about as steady as dry sand in hurricane winds. But I think a lot. Quite a lot, actually. The words just never reach fingertip, which in turn, never reaches pen or page.

I've been thinking a lot about what's between dust and dust. I mean the present and now. Paused and eternal. fleeting and escapable all at the same impossible time. I've been dreaming of revelations and how to get there. What roads do I have to cross, people I have to hurt, tides I have to succumb to? And I've been widely seeking earth rattling visions.

I have realized that all the while, as this world passes and passes, as we are but a blink in the continuous space of time and reason, I have been dying to become all the while dying to be here. I've been dying--- and living all at the same breath taking time to the beat, that very same beat, that the rest of the world hears even if they never admit it.

Even if they will never know it.

I've been reading quotes and quotes and quotes and quotes and...

Reading, finding pieces of myself in another's thoughts and insights. In another's revelations that I thought were once my own. Reading---and knowing---that I am never alone.

Most importantly I have been feeling, acknowledging, and listening to the tugs, pulls, and cries of my very soul. It acts as if it tries to detach for only a moment. Oh, if only for just one, singular, solitaire moment to bow at the feet of it's Creator. For the soul, it will forever remember another time. A time before time that the world has erased from my mind and body.

But the soul knows. It knows the truth. It knows nothing but the light of it. The truth of ourselves, our God, the secrets of the universe that has been whispered inside of it. The truth is inside of us. Always. And it knows.

I cry with it's cries, my body selfishly tugging back.

Please. Please. Stay.

Tell me you listen to your souls. Tell me stories of commonalities and childhood games when everything was easier. Tell me they remember what this world wants us to forget. What society tells us doesn't matter anymore. What materialism and consumerism tells us that we don't really need in our lives. Wake up! Wake up. I dare you...

Tell me you recall the days.

For we are all in this together. Perfectly imperfect and not always fitting in. But that is okay. Every fiber, every shred of dignity, every heartbeat tells me that it's okay. Every human being from every single continent, every animal from the elephant to the whale, the wolf to the bear, all the way down to the smallest kitten that depends on bigger and better things than itself is connected and here and alive.

If you would just listen to the stillness and wonder for only a moment. If you would just hear what your soul is fighting daily to say. If we would just remember it would be so much easier to forget. Forgetting the things that never, really, ever even mattered anyways.

Surrender...

It's liberating and freeing. That one, dear, simple release.

We owe ourselves that.

Promise Me

Red gown in my bedroom,
Hair down, dancing,
Dancing... 
Trying to pull off a move,
We never could.
You bend down and kiss me,
And I can see it so clearly,
You're wild eyes are saying,
This is it,
This is it...

So promise me, you'll remember this night,
11 p.m making our own spotlight,
Laughing until both our ribs ache,
I'll never forget the look on your face,
Promise me...
Promise me...

Sunsets, a strong fire in the sky,
You're hand is locked in mine,
I never knew the good kind of hurt,
And it kind of hurt,
The way the fire burned,
We walk down the street,
And I, I can see,
Peach pink rays on my skin,
On my skin...

So promise me, you'll remember this time,
9 p.m, coloring outside the lines,
Laughing, wide eyes glowing bright,
Doing it so  wrong that it just feels right,
Promise me...
Promise me...

See me, red gown,
Hair down,
Because I see you...
I see you...
With your brown eyes,
A thousand favorite times.