Monday, August 25, 2008
I have a lot of journals, notebooks, steno pads, sketchbooks gathered in piles, stacked in boxes, leaning in shelves and I know there is a constellation of meaning to them. This morning, as I rocked up from my bed, I grabbed three and flipped through the intended words and thoughtful works inside. Sometimes it is very sad to read my inner struggles from five or more years ago as they catch up with the ones that are still haunting me. Some demons are more imagined than real.
There is a line in one of my writings that prompted this entry. It is a sigh to the Lord.
Cloak me in your shield of light.
Save me from my imagined turmoil.
Is the Devil going to be as determined to keep me still?
("Be still and know that I am God")
Sit with me and tell me something.
Hold out your open hand
And allow me to gaze upon its Universe.
Follow and clean my footsteps from hesitating darkness.
It is only when I look ahead
Will I succeed.
Same journal, almost a year later:
Don't waste your time asking me "What?"
My answer extends beyond measure and cannot be expressed with words.
It is when you can find confidence without asking "What"
That you will find me.
There is this flawless path of knowing,
And the uncertain group of hopes with fears.
Endless anguish colapses in the frame of memory.
We also pass through this envelope of time,
Only to surface and gasp for heaven's air.
Well, that's all for now kiddies!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Well, I finally did it. I've been wanting to for awhile now. I canceled my website. Yahoo was raising their monthly web hosting fee, so I clicked CANCEL plain and simple. The month's not even over and they completely erased it from the web like THAT! The bastards. Who gives a shit? Yeah, I saved most of my text, graphics and pix. Shake the dust off. Impressions by karen guarino is done and I'm glad.
So now it's time to keep walking. Sit with myself and think, think, think. There's a story, there's a tale and a miracle howl somewhere in this body of hope. So here I am at the burning barrel again, tossing in forgeries and devil maps of where I thought I was supposed to be. Jesus, everything makes so much more sense to me when I'm dreamy-still and entranced with an earful of songs. Where are the wooded areas? Where are those paths that led me to spiritual places only seen by me? The tiny voice speaking through pebble petting streams, cool, smooth tree bark, bending grasses and leaves that turn over and over on windy caresses. It's time for me to listen.
What is this? Well, it was a honey brown stained piece that I bought for $2 from a Grandma's Attic table tag sale. It has two "mystery" dowels across the face of it and a pocket. I plan on displaying it with a row of mini drip candles or tied dried flowers hanging down for charm. At least I crackled and tackled it instead of letting it sit for a year or more. More fun in store for today!!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Routine has its place. My early morning routine is a must. Don't futz with my slipper slide to the coffee zone. Don't tell me to snuggle for five more minutes because before coffee, I'm about as cuddly as a rabid badger. You're truly better off. So, with feet to the floor, I'm barely out of my dream state while I'm zombie rockin' over to the java machine. Please, just give me a solid hour to fill one up, sit, sip and stare into the web. I'll come around.