Goodnight Betty

Is your refrigerator running? Because you better go catch it.

May all the bleeding hearts of the world unite. Is it possible to truly build something so unconventional amidst a sea of noise and stimulation? I push against all bonds and constrictions. I moved my muscles, I unwrap myself from the present I tied myself up to be. I am a mirror of you and you are a mirror of me. A fantastic stench and a mind that wanders and a job that I need to go back to. Toxic sludge to potpourri. A life so devoid of love, a world that’s changing. To snuggle on the couch, where are you Christmas?

Holding the door open to the cold, a flashlight in the heart. I keep my head up, I keep my head up, I keep my head up, for the fires of love are what get me through the night.

When I don’t know what to do, I drink tea, I ask the plants for healing and I allow them to work their magic. What am I supposed to do? I could go alone, out into the dark and the cold. Is that what is am supposed to do? Be alone with the night on a road of snow, push myself like I’ve done before?

The cheermister, and a world that’s change feels so dense. A heart that bleeds and a home that stays full of laughter and play and cheer and sometimes it feels like it is all looming and will never end. It feels like a distance and hiding away from the pain. Yet what of it?

There’s distractions, there’s movies that keep us away from the present, watching a story, trying to stay away and awake and in something else, something other than what we feel. So much so that it pains and hurts those around us, trying so desperately to stay away. Awake and aware.

The heart burns and the heart aches and the heart bleeds and if there is glass in my palms then let it be cleaned. Let it be taken out even if it burns, let it be extracted and released and let my wounds heal.

I love others, I love you. I love those that understand, I love those that feel it too. That know what it’s like, the calm and clear and heavy morning of waking up full of understanding. Making jokes underneath the blankets, secret passwords and laughs. A reprieve until waves crash again. There’s always light amidst the storm.

Is it more important to rest fully and entirely within understanding or is it better to stay aware? To pay attention.

The cold of the night? Or the resemblance of day? The fullness from emptiness of simply a place to stay. The grinch with his guise, his heart in disguise. A poem and a prayer to live another day.

How may we tend to these invisible wounds, how may we make it all better again? Do we sit with our tears, with our fears, our pains and our heartache, or do we go home, do we travel the distance in order to get away, in order to clear the mind and let the thoughts find their routes and rabbit holes? Do we listen to the intentions others have for us or do we instead pick our own?

Pains and aches and hurts that come in consistent waves, threaten to knock us out, yet at the surface of it all we remain riding, yet how can anyone who has known the depths of understanding stay above the waterline, how can anyone keep themselves on the surface when everything that goes on down below is where the true magic is felt, for it is known within bones, in words repeated, it is shown in action, it is remembered in breathing, and it is felt to the core.

Must we keep on stripping down the walls? Pulling back the curtains to reveal what’s underneath? For what I wish for is also what I fear, I walk the line of yes as I sink into a no. A know. An understanding of how difficult it is to really just be, to show up presently within it all, within it all within it all. Yet that is my prayer for you and my prayer for me. To not run, to just be, present within the mystery.

Present within the mystery.