for as long as i can remember i've had just one true wish, just one. sure there are lots of other things i've wished for, but none that have driven me as this one has, and still does. the one wish that I know will never come to pass, the one that there is no hope for, yet, even knowing it, i can't let it go. i'm slipping away again, just like so many times before... withdrawing, isolating, closing doors, boarding things away, locking the hurt away... i know that all i'm doing is locking myself in with all the hurt but i don't care, it's not really any different that living with it.i feel the call for silence, just as strong as before. in a way it's cleansing, washing away all the falsehoods, all the deceptions, the delusions. there is a clarity in the pain, like the arc of a torch, blinding, yet..

hidden within the bright fire, caught only in the facets of a shattered heart, exist every possible color of life. the problem is that none of us perceive any of them the same. a thousand prisms casting millions of rays, still fail to reach that place where i wait, and wait.

and weep

to evoke... is that my purpose, my hope?

it would be nice to know

or maybe just to feel, for just a moment

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, I thought about you, you know, because..."

"But why now? After all this time?"

"I told you."

"Look, I don't understand,  I can't see what you want here, it doesn't make any sense."

"I told you, I just thou..."

"I know what you said, I heard it. But it's not the truth, or at least not all of it."

"But..."

"There's no half way, you know, not unless all you want is to hurt me."

"That's not what I want."

"Then what do you want, eh?"

"I..."

"Let me know, it's not like I'm afraid of the pain anymore."

"What?"

"Come on, you know  how it is, you can get used to anything in time, even lies and pain."

"But I've..."

"Don't say it. You know better."

"But..."

"I'll be waiting."

life has a way of teaching me lessons I don't want to learn, of forcing me to ask questions I do not want answered.

I always wondered why most older people I have known were so cynical, it's obvious now. I know why I'm becoming that way. It's the only way I have to protect my heart. I don't feel less these days, the pain still burns and stabs me, it's just easier to hide. heh... practice makes perfect...

A young man died, young enough to be my son. Conditioned by the society he was part of he died proving that he couldn't escape. I kept asking myself why he couldn't see what his choices were doing to him, but I think he did see. At least it seems that way now... he'd been to the doctor, had his med's... and still chose the habits that killed him.

sigh... too many questions today, and no answers...

safer not to ask...

"But every time I told myself one lie, I had to to tell another to justify the ones that came before it."

to paraphrase...

"What's wrong with you? You're just so damned picky..."

In a way, it makes me laugh. Being picky... well, we all are, picky that is. Yes, we are, every one of us.

I could tell you hundreds of stories about people I've seen being picky, some of them very funny, more, just sad... and then, too many that make my heart ache. But the thing is, the tomes I notice people being picky is most often when what they are being picky about is something I personally like. It's the rejection that stings, that what I like, or want, or dream of could be revolting, nasty or vile in the eyes of someone else. That's what hurts, what galls me, makes me want to hide my feelings and desires.

Yes, there are those who take being picky to absurd extremes, like people who refuse to eat anything except one kind of food. But all of us have things we are picky about and think nothing of it, it's just who we are.

We're picky about...

Who we want to be seen with

What church you go to

What we watch

Where we eat, and what

How the person of our dreams will look

What color is their skin

The shade we'll wear

How we vote

The brand we'll buy

Is that recyclable, or not worth the bother

What we'll drive

The side of the bed we sleep on

Which leg goes in our pants first

The role with the end over the top, or the bottom

Seat up, or down

... lol

You name it and there is someone out there who has a definite preference, very, very definite...

and the truth is that it's like being angry with the weather, cry and scream and rant all you want and the rain simply does not care, it falls whether you like it or not.

But there's a secret.

One almost no one ever guesses.

It's the only truth that can free me...

accept what is.

instead of demanding what isn't.

I accept you, it's all I can do.

You think, that after all these years, I'd have learned to leave well enough alone...

But no, of course I can't.

Even though I know better, I can't shake the hope that someday some one will cross that divide and free me from this isolation. Yes, it's a lost hope that just fills me again and again with pain I don't want to endure.

So, I endure again...

and still don't learn

Where I work I'm frequently put in a position where I need to judge the honesty of the people around me. In the four years here I've seen a very wide variety of people, all of whom, repeatedly tell me they are being honest with me. I see hundreds of new faces each year, each needing some form of help, I work at a homeless shelter. Each person we let in is given a set of rules that they must agree to to be eligible for a bed, either in our long term program or the emergency transient shelter, and each always swears that they will abide by those rules, signing a form to that effect. One of the major rules is that we cannot allow then on the property if they have been drinking, yet over and over I end up refusing to allow someone back in because they fail a breathalyzer test, or refuse to take the test. Last night there were three who came back well after our house curfew swearing that they hadn't been drinking, repeatedly, until, that is, I pulled out the testing unit. Suddenly they found that they now needed to be honest with me  and asking for leniency.

My issue here isn't what any individual did but what I see in life. If asked, everyone I know will emphatically tell me they are a very honest person, that they never lie. But I know better, I know because I watch them, listen to what they say and compare it to what they actually do. I also know how often I lie. Yes, I do lie, not always,but the truth is that everyone lies, I've never found a person who doesn't. I can accept that people lie, what I find hard is the number of people who insist that could never lie. In other words, everyone.

When I look at what I've noticed over the years it obvious that most people don't see their own lies when they tell them. So much of what we do each day is deeply ingrained habit, so deep it's become part of our subconscious actions. Thing we literally don't notice, unless something brings it to glaring focus. I know that's how it works for me, those times when I get caught shot, wondering what just happened. It's a very disconcerting feeling, and one that tends to be brushed aside as quickly as possible. And it gets brushed aside because we, and that includes me, don't want to face the fact that what we think we are never matches up with what we actually are. The age old adage is very true, 'What you actually do will always be true.'

Because of where I work I see a very large number of people who lie far more often than most people, with many, even the simplest things are made into lies. I guess it's kind of like a pressure cooker where things are condensed very quickly. I know I've become far more cynical because of it. And truth be told, I think it's a far healthier thing for me because it has made me question myself far more often. I don't know if it's made me a more honest person, but I do  hope it has.

But I've also found that I've stopped asking about things I believe people will lie about. In a way, I guess I'm assuming the worst.

I don't believe that 100% honesty is possible, if fact, I believe it can cause just as much harm as most lies. Each of us have things we don't want to be known and truly aren't the business anyone else. I accept that, and always will. But it still bothers me when people say things to me that I know are not true, all the times someone says something that their own history has shown me are lies.

I'm sorry if this sounds bitter, but it's something that's been brewing in my mind for months and finally needed to get down so I could work out how I really feel about it. Quite a bit of what I write here is that way, all the time thinking things over is useful, but it isn't until I start put it in writing that things star falling into place for me.

One of my passions has been writing, it's also one of my daemons.

The biggest problem I've always had as a writer has been getting past the initial spurt of energy, that surge that fills me and gets the first pages down. Some times that energy will keep me going for days,  other times it sputters and fades in just a few short hours. And then I find myself sitting at the keyboard, full of ideas, but lacking the will to put them down on the page. Part of it is that age old nemesis called self doubt, part of it is not knowing where to go next and part is wondering if I do make the effort, will anyone ever read it, and of course like it.

Back in the days when I was in college and had weekly deadlines for my writing class I could churn out the pages, not always easily, but I could get at least a rough draft ready for the next class. Now I'll spend several hours working through an idea in my head but never manage to get even some of it down. It's never been the ideas that has stumped me. Even in the worst of my writers block moments the ideas are there, just not the ability to take them from my mind and put them on the screen.

I guess what I'm saying here is that I'm looking for some way to change my habits, some way to give me a deadline to shoot for that doesn't seem to be just a fantasy in my own mind. I know that there are some out there who have read some of my work, and maybe some who might want to give it a try. If there are, and you're willing to help give me that sense of challenge to help get me moving, I'd like to hear from you.

For any of you that do know my work, pick something and I'll go back to work. If you haven't read anything of mine just ask and I'll send you something.

I will keep working on it on my own, but I know my history, all the fits and starts that fizzle out. I know it is habit as much as anything, but I'm notsure this is a habit I can change on my own.

in recovery...

It's been a while now, but a few years ago some things happened that made it so that most of my collection of books was lost. There are several that I don't think I'll ever be able to replace but I'll still try. So, that's part of what I'm working on, the recovery of knowledge. Even so, I've been working on a thought that struck me about two months ago, dealing with touch. Delving into this has kept much of my time occupied. It's also something I'm working to include in some of the fiction I write. Of course, first I have to be writing again.

So, another form or recovery...

To get my butt in gear again and write.

The last few months have been... interesting. Things I thought were so... are not. It's been years since I held onto things and couldn't walk away, when I couldn't wipe a face from or idea from my mind. But even now when I find I can do it, some things don't seem to want to be forgotten. It's not the first time this has happened, but I think it's been one of the most profound for me. No matter what has happened, no matter the hurt, I think there will always be things I'll have to remember because forgetting them will hurt me more than remembering.

It does make me wonder what's next.

And, as always, it opens my eyes, for good, or ill.

My dreams are alive again... flowing, growing, screaming to be set free. All because I have opened my eyes again.