carving a space

when my heart is freshly manicured like this, i must take a pause.




i must remember not to worry, 'you are beautiful' even though you are occasionally stubborn and funny looking and needing to be right and not taking advice well.

i must remember that sadness is really rather silly if you can sing along anyway and see that you're being a dramaqueen in your own little soap opera life.

i must remember that life isn't figuring about figuring out what job, career, education i need to get; even though everybody treats it that way.

hahah sweet, yeah, it's chiiilll. the important thing is that i read plenty of girly books and doodle and write poems and do sudoku puzzles and go for jaunts in the sun. sing and have solo dance parties and make picnics and do yoga and drink tea frequently.

but i already know and do these things, so writing it is silly but i like the confirmation. it means that i can close up my laptop and go fall asleep in my cushionbed and wake up early tomorrow and eat waffles and draw pictures.

maybe someone is reading this - please know you are lovely, and you deserve to live as if you are lovely.

Funny how the moment goes back to forever;

just as if it was waiting for you to figure out that it's been that way all along.

Fresssshhhhhhhh, so clean. So natural and pure

- sort of.


Yesterday sometimes comes in. Not all of yesterday, just little snippets that claw at my ankles and make bloody scratches on my calf muscles. In the name of NOW (sipping beautiful tea, piano music, scattered sheets of writing and study notes) I will revisit THEN and apply some band-aids to the back of my yesterday-torn legs.

I remember all the times you retreated into your safe little world. You are a terribly frightened person. I remember the infantile, selfish complaints.

I remember your lies, your twisted reality that you forced upon me only to later leave me dejected and lonely in the grey drizzle. When I was learning about life, you taught me that it isn't and shouldn't be the way that you are living it.

Most of yesterday has faded, but what hurts the most is that you ARE NOT, AND WERE NOT THERE.

But now, here I am. Very much full of life, feeling thousands of beautiful emotions, experiencing thousands of marvellous potential worlds. A quiet sort of confidence, I like to think. Maybe a little too sensitive, but at least I know how to feel.

At least I know how to love.

And so, because my calf muscles work real well and my feet take me to beautiful places, I acknowledge yesterday with a satisfying acceptance. I feel a little sad for it, but damn, I'm doing just fine thank you.


Back to piano, tea, notes, oh and yoghurt? I think so.

It's pure again.

Peaaace.

Oh, maybe.

But is it art?

Is it dead flowers sitting in a travel mug,
feet going numb in the ocean, drying on the sand-
grit between your toes; spending hours creating ugly pictures,
commenting on the personalities of crows.

Is it spending time being alone and contemplating? Maybe ignoring your phone so you can do yoga and feel pain in your thighs that releases some sort of magic potion into your bloodstream. It could be being the things that you do.

Being brushing your teeth
Being the spoon that travels to your lips
Being the pen that touches paper?

No, it's believing, that's all.


Believing that your little corner of the universe in entirely beautiful in every way and that you're the one who gets to decide.

peeeaace.

Wondering, Feeling.

Compassion means so much to me. Loving others. Caring about other people, wanting the best for them. It is what I want my life to be about.

I also want my life to be about peace. About simplicity. Breathing, walking, eating, loving, sleeping, making love, making art.

Creativity. Creating days full of love. Creating pictures, words, feelings, ideas.

I include these in my life in the way that I can given the time I have to dedicate to the pursuits of creative activities, stillness, compassionate ventures. And though I feel Perfect Ten satisfied with my life - satisfied that I have done everything that was meant to be done in the best way I have known how; I feel as though the part of Charlotte that is pure and connected to the rest of the world has had to be put aside in the name of a Standardized Education.

I meditate, but not as often as I would like. I don't have time to volunteer, or the energy to start any projects that would be meaningful for me. I often don't feel at peace enough to truly connect to the people I meet. I have little time for creative juices to spill over, though I do take every opportunity that I can get.

But what is getting in the way? What will get in the way for the coming years, if I let it?

Learning. Learning is getting in my way, standardized learning with tests and grades and information input knowledge output. Now, I must caution that I have nothing against learning in principle. I think learning is wonderful for those who have a deep desire to pursue it.

BUT I DON'T.

I don't care much about learning, at least not in an academic setting! I want to learn from stillness, learn from nature, learn from relationships, learn from LIFE. I'm ready to be REAL, to be a person. Not a student. Some people figure this out late in life. They realize they've been pursuing false financial, material, future happinesses. But I can see that now, and I refuse to follow it! I know where my happiness comes from: it comes from my values of compassion, creativity, mindfulness. And so I think it seems absurd to let other things interfere with that.

But the real question is; what am I if not a student? I have been a student for every year of my life that I can remember! I want to spend some time becoming acquainted with the part of me that is not governed by roles or personalities. Perhaps then there will be room for standardized learning. We'll see.

World, I'm just going to put this out there - what can I be? I'm tired of doing.
I'm ready to be.

A Real Post?

So, I don't like this girl.

I mean, she's nice. She doesn't hit people or swear or anything like that.

But God, she's like a robot. A robot that pumps out huge, unecessary words and seems to be able to connect absolutely every possible situation to something relating to her upper-level Environmental Studies courses.
Not that I have anything against Environmental Studies. In fact - I'm quite certain it would be a fascinating discipline of study, but Lord above, when I ask you how's it going I'm not looking for a verbal version of your course syllabus.

So, that was an interesting component of my lovely little day. And probably will continue to be on a weekly basis as she and I have frighteningly similar extracurricular schedules.

I'm enjoying this tremendously, this blogging binge of mine.
I find that it's all fine and good to express the beautiful and awesome things in life, but I tend to begin to think too much about them if I start writing about them. And that makes them less of 'awesome' and more of 'case studies of awesome'. I find that when it comes to writing, I prefer to take negative things and play with them so that they become sort of neutral or even amusing and not so stuck in my mind. The positive things don't need help. I've already created those, they don't need me interfering further.

I'm gunna go dance Jazz Funk and write about Public Art and possibly eat yoghurt. Peace.

Peeping through the keyhole, there was a sight to see:

An eagle soaring high through curling branches of a tree,

Silken-headed youth sitting cosy ‘round a fire,

Eyes of lovers fluttering with passion and desire,

Fragrant clumps of jasmine hanging moonlit on a wall,

A basket full of kittens, black and white, so soft and small,

A plate of frosted cupcakes (oh so tempting) pink and white,

The sun streams through a window, leaves a patch of warm bright light,

A hula hoop is racing past the hips of a young girl,

An oyster opens up its shell and gives the earth a pearl.

Peeping through the keyhole, I see another sight:

A locust kills an earwig in a bloody insect fight,

A baby spits its breakfast on its mother’s shiny blouse,

Kitty’s gift to the doorstep is a mangled up field mouse,

Teenage sweetheart’s braces clash as they attempt to kiss,

A thousand dollar watch falls into an ocean’s dark abyss,

A needle sits, discarded in the mall’s new parking lot,

An open wound becomes a scab as blood begins to clot,

Clumps of hair clog up the drain, so thick and coarse and wet,

A teacher’s armpits pool with putrid stains of anxious sweat.

Peeping through the keyhole, I’m confused as I could be:

It seems the yin and yang of life remains a mystery.