Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax, Of cabbages, and kings...

So. It's been awhile. I'm not too sure about writing even now. It's not that I couldn't think of anything to write about, I've written pages and pages in my head these past few weeks, but nothing ever came past my very busy brain.
I wrote about Trayvon Martin and how my heart breaks at the hurt and injustice and our ability to be cruel to each other. I included the biracial Cheerrios commercial and the hate mail it received.

I wrote about Cory Monteith and the pains of addiction, my own struggles and the struggles of those I love, and about hating the deadly disease of addition and not the person addicted - a difficult thing to do, something you have to recommit to daily.

 If this were only cleared away,'  
They said, it would be grand!....
I wrote about how I spend my time looking at the world differently now, like I'm seeing so many things for the first time. I spend so much time looking at couples and trying to understand how having a partner works. I never quite got this concept. I was so very sure in my youth of  the ways things were and the way things ought to be; I wasted decades in certainty and frustration.

I may still write about the Royal baby because the birth, along with so many things these last few months have moved me to tears, tears that I don't always entirely understand.
All this, and songs on the radio, people walking their dog, a photo of a young man who would have been my son's age had he not killed himself 2years ago. .. 

 I know this, I am more open than I've ever been. I feel things more deeply - all things, joy, pain, love, sorrow, and very rarely, anger.

I weep for you,' the Walrus said:
      I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
      Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
      Before his streaming eyes.

So, yeah. I'm sort of just hanging out. 'On hold' it would seem. Lots of internal musings, not too much external manifestations. I think, maybe, if I had a close friend I might process some of this more quickly. It's mainly me and my dog, me and my sketchbook, me and myself doing lots of pondering, lots of observing.

I don't think I'm lonely, precisely, I am on my own however. In the next few months two of my three children will be moving away, and a large part of my existence will be open to redefine. I look at the next 5 years of my life and see some major changes. I may go back to school. I likely will move from here, maybe, .not sure, more pondering required.
The time has come,' the Walrus said,
      To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
      Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
      And whether pigs have wings.'

Till then, I will try to write more, to develope a disipline about daily writing again. I have enough time, and I waste too much of it.