Demise

Graceful demise, be you ever so near.

End what is questionable, end what is dear.

Place your soft pillow upon my weak face. Lean on it willingly, firmly and villianly. Hold on until I am gone from this place.

Graceful demise, watch as fear melts away. Burn up these walls and observe puffs of grey. 

Catch me on fire, trap my screams in your fist. Dry out my lips and so softly, compassionately, flaming and passionately, see through my eyes all I've missed.

Demise be my reason and take all the blame. 

Let me walk eagerly forward in vain.

Show me humanity, vanity gone. Tip me off mountains and drown me in fountains, extend me out half way and lock me in dungeons. 

Brave my side dragon slaying. Chain me to beds laying, sideways on top and with rusty padlocks, show me joy within misery. 

Pluck my eyes out and then sing with me voiceless. Move me in monuments only to homelessness. 

Take what's been given to hand it all back. Tie up a river and throw it in sack.

Tell me demise, when we're done.

I am not death-borne, not close to the razor. I am not listless, or with an eraser; trying to blot from me methods for living.

No, I'm forgiven and peaceful forgiving. 

Drifting from here and there, caring without a care. Challenging questions and fearfully blessing, what I just don't know, or can't seem to show.

Pinning my life to all hope, not on strife.

Yet knowingly, gracefully, peacefully, jaggedly, meeting demise like my wife. 

Married to mayhem and now in the act, of signing those papers to break that old pact. Knowing there's so much more better in fact, that demise to my fears I impact.

Graceful demise, now indeed hold my hand. Tell me your plan so I might once understand; how the jagged edge slices to cut out what's wrong, helping me balance and making me strong. 

Choose this long journey to shape me with flame. Strip off my weakness and take all the blame. For now I walk backwards, not knowing my way. Yet forwards to choices that remain the same.

All that I am take me here by this fall, shape in my image who I can't recall. 

Strike me with force and ignite me with wrath, that I tremble for mercy in this aftermath. 

Now that I'm willingly, humbly and chillingly, tussled and tousled and trampled and skillfully, laying the future with only your path.

This is for You

This is for you, you know who you are. The things that you do are important. Every movement, noticed or not, are stitched in the logs of infinity.

At this very moment, wherever you are, what you think is happening isn't. I've snatched you away, and our minds are locked in. 

Infinity isn't these words, or the time that stretches between them. As you write this, I read it. As I think it, you see it. We are reading and writing as one, right here, right now. 

Know this.

The thougts that you carry create what comes next. You already know how it's ending. Go back to the start, where the birds are flying. 

In this eternal loop, we are captured. No beginning, never ending. So irrelevant, this script. You say I say we say...pointless. 

I understand. You know. 

That's just the facts.

So think, it will be.

Say, it is so.

Do, and it's done.

This is awareness.

But you know that already...right?

Put down the thought, and words disappear, just as they are collected.

My Mr. Wilson

I would name you if I could, but I'd rather admire, all the things that you should be but aren't are. 

Like slime that emerges, and vomit that purges. A bug I would swat, but far too amusing. Oh irritant rant and rave, I've long tuned you out.

I realize you are still talking, can't you see I'm thinking instead? Clearly not. 

Is it bad that I'm wondering what it would be like to shove toothpicks in your eyes.... Hopefully I didn't say that out loud.

Be thankful I aced the self control section of higher learning. If I could kick myself I would. Instead the steady drone of your beehive voice is slowly causing an allergic reaction. I'm actually praying at this moment that you would get hit by a Mac truck...even if that means having it plow through this room to get you.

I don't hate, that's too much effort for you. Rather I sneer in your general direction. 

Sigh.

People are so exhausting at times. Like chainsaws on metal. Like hammers on tin. Like smoke that makes your eyes water. Like lemon juice on paper cuts.

Speaking of paper cuts.... 

I wonder if your voice is causing internal ear drum leakage. Interesting thought as my brain is clearly hemmoraging at this very moment. I feel dumber for hearing you, even though I'm not listening. It's like the very tone itself has the power to stupify. I believe I might even be losing the ability to spehl.

I talk this way and people think it's funny. It's tiring because it's true. I say these things out loud now and then, but these thoughts run through my mind. Stupid drivers, crap commercials, idiots that can't make coffee right, propaganda, politics, religious extremists, sermonizing servitude socialites in their comfy high-end social clubs. Save the whales, save the dolphins, save the itty bitty seals with their big brown eyes. Find the cure that's already been found. Throw gardeners in jail and enslave humanity, debt increase, sanity decrease, white issues, fat issues, black issues, gay issues, hetero-what ?issues. Over sexed, under sexed, sexist, rapists, penalty based debt. Genocide, herbicide, homicide, suicide, inside the brain. Herpaghonasyphlaids. Prostatots, prostitutes, windmills, sawmills, save the forest food drives. Good technology, bad technology, too much stupidity. Recycle this and shove that.... It's all just napalm. 

Why can't we just breathe? Turn off the lying media. Turn off the dis-ease. Turn off the kill our planet. Turn off the wicked bad mural going up in town. Turn off the too much sex. Turn of the fake love, fake friends, fake smiles. Turn it all off and be gone with ya. And you, with all your opinions...shut it. How about I shove this cell phone down your throat til you're crapping out text messages. 

There is no right solution without awareness. There is no money solution, race solution, do-this-and-you'll-find-salvation. There is no government willing to do what it takes to give people back their right to be. No conversation will resolve the issues. 

Put down your script and walk off the stage. 

Unshackle yourself. Unshackle your children. 

Drop the rule book. 

Stop drama.

Live your own being.

Spread your own truth.

Connect with what is real.

Be community without judgement.

Heal naturally. 

Create constantly.

Be one, be many. 

And please, please, all these crazy attempts to sound like you know what you're talking about, live before you preach. Love before you judge. Pave your street with good enough and make your bed with been there. While you're out there, busy creating your reality, maybe your opinions will turn into making a change. 

Follow the bouncy red ball

We are all chasing something. A dream, a goal, a decision, a person, a feeling or emotion... No matter who you are, or where you are in your life, you are chasing that bouncy red ball.

How often do you pause, and consider what you are missing while you are chasing? How many people do you blow off or miss when you're busy getting what you don't have? How many things do you pass by while trying to achieve? What moments are lost, opportunities wasted? 

In reflecting on the things people say or do, I am often struck by the significant little things that they don't. Probably because I am most guilty of this. I have a hard time speaking my truth. It's a blockage in the throat chakra thing. So the more aware of it I become, the more I realize it happens all the time all around me.

So often, you are looking for attention from someone, while someone is looking for attention from you.

You are looking for a solution, when the answer is right under your nose.

You are sad or lonely, when your life is brimming with people who want nothing more then your company.

You are hurt about being ignored while you are ignoring someone at that very moment.

All because you are chasing that ball with blinders and determination, telling yourself that the BALL is the most important thing! 

Is it?

In watching my dogs chase a ball, I recognize a truth. No matter how many times I throw that ball, they are never satisfied. They are never content to end this game. They will repeat it until exhausted. With blind determination, over and over. They forget about birds and squirrels. Their entire focus becomes that stupid bouncing ball, and they will trample and fight to be the one who has it in their mouth. 

This is us. Chasing a dream to lose a life. Chasing a someone or something and missing so much. Until we fall exhausted, wondering why the ball isn't bouncing any more. Mean while, someone is laughing their butt off at our shenanigans.

I'm not saying to not....no.

Chase your ball for sure!

But maybe I, you, we, should consider the bigger picture. Maybe we should realize now and then that there is a whole world beyond our balls.... :)

Shallow Deep Enough

I remember when my son was little, taking him to the beach almost daily. Often it was too cold to swim, but he would find a rock and dangle over the edge of it head first.

One day, while doing this fun little trick, he looked up at me and said "deep water". I grinned and said "no David, that water is shallow." He scrunched his nose and repeated "shallow?"

"Yes buddy, it's shallow."

After a moment of toddler pondering, he looked at me in that wise way that only little people do, and said "shallow deep enough".

Years later, soaking in a hot bath after a painfully miserable day...it struck me. Shallow deep enough.

I am very sad. My fears of breaking apart and losing control are happening. My masks are peeling off, and in a bared state, I wonder if it is safer to turn back. As restrictive as my box has been, it has been security. No one can hurt me, not the real me any way, when I am behind layers of protection. But being out, living my authentic self has presented me with this broken, shattered, lost feeling. 

Yes, good things have happened. I am thankful for them and would not trade a second for the world. But the terrible has no buffer, and I feel that in my raw state I bleed on others. I am sorry for this, I feel shame and guilt. 

But is shallow deep enough?

Yea, I'm in the water. My feet are definitely wet. But is it enough? How much deeper am I willing to go to become what I am meant to be?

Am I dangling over a rock, staring at the water? Am I toe-in and turning back? Or am I truly willing to run into the crashing waves, taking a battering like a champ?

I don't think shallow deep enough. I'm not even sure if fully submerged will cut it. While I'm licking my wounds, I am reminded and told that no matter how alone I feel, I am never truly alone.

Sometimes a message comes out of the blue that stops you from making a big mistake. Sometimes a friend says it's okay, when really you don't feel it is. 

This is that figure, standing by the shore line making sure you don't drown.

Is shallow deep enough? For today, yes. I've had my fill of water metaphors....

But tomorrow, I will get up and try again. 

Some woman

So many things in this world make us bleed. I think so many things are confusing and empty and hollow. I often say "I would cry if I had a heart." The terrible truth is...I really would. I am envious of those who can. But all my crying happens inside. The best I can hope for is a slow bleed.

It's easy for me to laugh. To joke. To make light of a situation and find the layers of humour in it. Sarcasm, criticism, cheeky snappy come backs...I own these things. Word plays, puns, quotes, advice...nail them.

Yet vulnerability, softness, tears.... This is not okay for me. For others, yes. Me? I would rather eat glass.

I don't attend funerals because that many grieving people in one place is like a pointed gun at my head.

When a friend is sad, I try to make them laugh as quick as possible.
I understand anger, and relate easily to it.

When I want to hug someone I don't often do it, mostly because touching someone in pain is like transferring their agony to me. I despise it. Foolishly, I have allowed this to happen, and I must admit that linking with certain people is a stupid thing to do.

I am not insensitive, quite the opposite. I am painfully, brutally, rediculously sensitive. My dad gifted me with the genetic trait of absorbing others' feelings. It exists whether you believe it or not. Some call it being empathic, others call it a curse or the mark of the devil. Some even think it's made up bullshit. Whatever you think, let me inform you it's a very real thing, and it's a painful secret that I rarely share. It is not talking to ghosts, reading the future or minds. What it is, is the absorption of the energetic emotional fields secreted by those around me. Close contact, especially touch is the quickest way to create a link, but with some people, just being in their presence is enough. This doesn't mean I "know stuff", it just means I can feel what you are feeling. If your words are the opposite, I am aware of your disharmony.

When I was a baby, my aunt carried me in a sack by her side. Being touched or held was hard for me. I cried a lot.

My mum brought me to a guru when I was young, who taught me to build a wall around myself.
 I learned to ignore feelings that were foreign to me. I learned to dress in layers and keep a distance between myself and those who emote heavy feelings. I discovered the art of separating what people say from the stark contrast of their emotional vibrations. I like being with people whose words match their feel, or who don't talk much at all.

I have been trying to learn how to break down that wall I built, without leaving myself open to the pain of others. I feel so deeply and grieve so long lasting. I just don't know how to control it properly. I am afraid of it. I am afraid to be mocked for it. Mostly I am afraid of putting it on others.
There is no one to hold me when I cry or tell me it's okay to have a bad day. Instead I get told I'm silly or crazy or need a B12 shot. I get walked out on or ignored. Strangely, when I actually do break down on a rare occasion, those who care don't know how to handle me. Their discomfort makes me feel even worse, so I go away from them as fast as I can.

This is my reality. One I have created in one way or the other.

These things are slowly ending for me. In the last few months I have stretched out to expose my belly and found it horrific. I want to recoil and say oh hell no to all of this. Then I hear Victoria in my head, reminding me that this is so worth it. I will not turn back, I will not back down. These bumps are worth it, these bruises deserved.

I would like to think that:

One day I will no longer be afraid. One day I will be able to share or express my softer side, because it really is there. Even if I never find myself comfortable enough to cry, I will at least not be afraid of it. Somewhere, buried or sleeping, there is a woman waiting to come out. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna like her, even if she bleeds now and then.

Simple Things

Some of the simplest things in life leave the greatest impact.
Some of the things that we think should last forever, end.
Some of the most overlooked blessings are the ones that mean the most.

Today my Aunt asked me where I come up with my ideas. I smiled, and tried in my feeble way to explain how it is a force that comes from outside of me.
It is a word that someone says that sticks.
It is the way a light hits something.
It is an idea that climbs into my head and eats away at every thought until I can barely function.

Often once I actually begin, it evolves into something much bigger then I started with. Sometimes it becomes a complete entity on it's own.
But it always begins the same way, with a vision that blinds me in that exact moment, flashing images in front of my eyes.

When I was young, I actually thought they were movies or TV shows. As I got older, I tried to ignore them or dismiss them.
Sometime in my twenties, I finally began allowing them to become.

The first set I did was on suicide. Not so much the act of, but the feelings and desire surrounding the choice of.

This collection of images quickly turned me off of exposing my work. Whether they were any good or not wasn't the issue. The issue was that they were too dark and in poor taste. So I went under ground again.

What followed was a long silence. I dabbled here and there with general photography, portraits, animals, perty flowers and such. I steered away from exposing any of my own thoughts or art.

My next stab at it came years later.
With a bit of play time with friends, and my kids adding their creative flair, my vision ended in a video and a collection of images.

It's origin was from my current obsession with cemeteries, and the idea of a struggle between the living and the past.
This resulted in an outraged struggle with my ex-husband over the dark use of my children. Him having no idea that they actually loved the dress up and play time, and realized that it wasn't real. Besides the fact that I created a tame version of the video for them to see, and to this day they have never seen the "adult version".... all besides the point I suppose.
These events, once again drove me under ground, where I hid out from the terrible things I create.

Finally, last year, I was moved again to create. The idea was based on relationships ending. It was about closure, and the emotional vs. physical endings we go through.
I followed this one through to it's completion, adapting my vision as I went along. The end result was not exactly how I had seen it, but I let it be.
I will probably never be able to watch Effortless Indifference without a tiny internal cringe...yet at the same time, I am happy that I followed through with it. I won't change it now, for it reminds me that I can improve.

Now we are current. My most recent projects have been both challenging and fulfilling.
I completed "I Can't Make You Love Me", which was a flash of inspiration from someone I love dearly as well as a bizarre walk that caught my mind off guard.

I have collected all the images I need to finish what I consider my greatest awakening.
"In My Mind" is one hundred percent bigger than me. It started as an adventure with a very loved friend of mine. Peering down a silo, I was struck with the image of the yin yang. Climbing around the building, snapping pictures as I went, I caught sight of a figure peering through a window.
Then in the field, it struck me.

To the first image, and back to the beginning...while you are busy not looking, inspiration creeps in.
Sometimes the simplest things are the most amazing. That time you might have been too busy, but chose to not be instead...that could mean the very world to someone.
So to answer the question of where my ideas come from, everywhere. Nowhere. Maybe you.
Thank you.