simple truths

I have always felt as if someone forgot to include the manual when I was made. I try to watch and see what everyone else is doing. But, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense.  I have finally come to the conclusion: No one knows what the hell they are doing. Can you tell me for sure, why you are here? Why you are doing what you are doing?  Yes, we can come up with some superficial answers- but frankly, we are all going to die and everything you have done will be forgotten. Erased by time.  Meaningless. A chasing after the wind. -Ecclesiastes   But we are here nonetheless and no one wants to look weird, or stupid, as if they don't know what they're doing.  We create roles and rules (that's the manual I mentioned never getting) so we can live with some direction and purpose. We try to nail it and be the best at it. All the while looking around to see what everyone else is doing to make sure we have it right. According to who? Who says they have it right? Becaus...

 Growing up in Oregon, made rain feel like home. Where the sun makes people warm, the rain makes me feel warm inside. Like my soul is wrapped in a blanket, warm and at home. Every little pitter patter on my roof calms me, brings relief. Like cool water on a burn, is what rain does to my soul. The smell of ozone, clears away the mask, its ok to be sad sometimes. Like the rain makes life grow, sadness also creates growth. If you don't try to shield yourself from it. Don't carry an umbrella. Sit with your rain, like a blanket, let it wrap you up and keep you warm. Soon enough, you'll have no need for it, you'll be warmed and free. The sun will be back. It's ok to sit in the rain while you have it.

The Lonliest Oak A tall strong oak left in charge of a plain. Lonely, with no one around. Stuck in pride, but dread. His dreams over his head. Stuck alone, rooted to the ground With no one around. Large and boastful, but with no one to envy him. Neglected by nature, became withered. It's cold outside, and everyone has come in, but you. You're alone and rooted. Yelling with no one to hear. No one to envy him. It's cold outside, and everyone has come in but you. -Taylor C. (11 yr old)

 Apathy is dangerous. The result of words, overstated unrequited.  Indignant indifference and forced involuntary solitude put a lid on and simmer How's that taste bitch? Open wide...say "   " Nothing? Say nothing! No one here gives a fuck how you feel, or why or when or even how you got here.  From words that fall out of my fucking face, flat and dead like lead bricks,  only without a sound, but twice as hard as gravity, they hit the fucking ground. Words should flow like helium. With grace and ease float into ears. Apathy. at least she hears. At least she lets you say your peace.  She just no longer cares. The little voice that says, "Come on, girl," is gone. Ricocheted off into other space Actually, it doesn't fucking matter. Words are heavy and I've got to save my power To crawl out of this fucking hole without a hand. Without a ladder. maybe I mighta cried or called for help,  "going off" I think they call it... Those stupid noises, an indi...

Whatever you output comes back to you, often amplified. Thoughts, feelings and actions are your energetic resonance. Re-sonance. The word itself implies a re-sounding, or a repeat of the vibration. Not every bit of energy we create will be positive. But do yourself, and me a favor. At least be authentic. Because, in its negative form, truth is still truth and all truth is honorable.

Kneeled down on the hard floor in a closed-off, quiet, sunlit-streamed-in place. There I am. Just me now, taking up both halves of this space. Just a while ago, we had bickered and struggled, angered and raged. Deceived and ignored. So many tears have streamed down my face. For this love, I gave up everything. It broke me, but I kept on giving. Even when apart, there was nothing that could replace. He knew and I did too. I could stare a lifetime into your eyes, and he did until we part.  Despite the world's wisdom, and also, in spite of myself- I still loved him. What the world doesn't see is who I have to live with now is me. What he gave went with him. It wasn't mine to keep. Not the pain nor the heart. The love I gave is what is left in my own two hands to hold, since death do us part.