The Wind blows strongly in my direction; lifting little trees and unmatched beautifully scented flowers that were planted inside my heart, taking them away, leaving their delicate roots buried in my soul forever like an ancient but perfect engraving carved on my being.

The Wind blows strongly in my direction carrying seeds from lands that are destined to be trodden, planting these seeds deep deep inside my heart. I watch as they rapidly and wonderfully grow into little heavenly trees and shrubs and flowers of different shapes, shades, and colors. I look inside of me and watch as their roots spread and interweave deeper and stronger, and the trunks and leaves grow thicker and wilder and more detailed.

Wind blows. It comes and it goes and it comes and it goes. And as content as I am with what it brings and what it flies off with, and as understanding as I try to be to its ways and wisdom, for a moment my mortal fears and human worries and clinginess get the best of me in spite of all. I find me praying that Wind does not take away what it has decided to bless me with. That the rapidly growing seeds would develop roots and trees stronger than any possible wind whim to lift off and fly away with.

As I dwell in these thoughts and in my own prayers and wishes, I hear a lighthearted chuckle in the air. Wind bends closer and softly whispers in my ears words of magic, strength, and faith. It tells me I should never worry, for it does not take away what becomes a part of who I am. It cannot cut through my flesh and eat off of it. These are not the ways of the Glorious Wind.

And with this thought, my faith is restored and empowered. And with this belief, I close my eyes and breathe in. I breathe in as much air as I could. I feel magic lifting me off the ground to higher skies and I smile. I breathe out and I open my eyes and I know. I know what I need to know in spite of my unending lack of further knowledge. I know I am forever blessed for I hold the magic of the wind.

It’s not cold yet, but I can literally feel the shivers going down my spine… and the silliest grin is stamped over my face.

Yaay! December is back!
Yup!  It’s here with its usual blessings and omens…

My head is filled with cool breezes and winds of ol’ familiar confusions and conflicts. It’s become a zero gravity room where things just float aimlessly around, never touching down.

I don’t mind much at this point. I’m watching thoughts and things float and jump and dance and hide and wave… and I decide to ignore the fear…

The never-touching-down thoughts will eventually land, maybe in the new year. Or spring!
Hmm… Nah…. Springtime is when already-landed thoughts and things that bloomed in December start withering and falling apart… to make room for a summer of decay, an autumn of fresh clean cinnamony air, and yet another winter of freaky beginnings. December is the high point.

December December!

Let it come. Bring it on. I’ll take it, swallow it, digest it, and take more in. Let it rain on me. I’ll look up with my eyes closed and my mouth half-open and try not to slip and fall on my back.

December, I love you. You’re one generous month with a cynical sense of humor and a genuine nature.

There’s a party up in the sky! Fireworks and drums and everything!
The light flashes through the window and fills my room for a second.
I can hear an orchestra…
Dedrummm…. Dedummmmm….
Tsk tsk tsk
Drip drip drip
And the beat goes faster…
Drrrrrrr
Tshshshsh
Drrrrrr
Tshshshshshshsh
My feet tap with the rthym under the covers…
My head dancing…
My whole body shivering…
And a childish smile find its way to my eyes!

Hello Winter

Previous post’s title is “no tomorrow”. I take that back.

In this dream we live in there is past, present, and future.
We have a tomorrow. Bright or dark, doesn’t matter, but it exists. And it is but an illusion. A very real and prevailing illusion.

Knowing what really matters and what shouldn’t…
I shall start rowing my boat… gently down the stream…

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very very
Mad World…
Mad World…

Soft and innocent
She draws you in
Smoothly pulling you
Out of your skin
Like a moth you go
And like a moth you burn
And like a man you hurt
And turn into stone

But close your eyes and carefully listen
To silent sounds and secret signs
Certainly as ever there’s a story
If you read between the lines
Neither a victim nor a villain
A soul where both meanings combine.

Soft and innocent
She’s taken in
Smoothly Pulled out
Out of her skin
Like a moth she went
And like a moth she burnt
And like a girl she glowed
And turned into flame

So close your eyes and carefully listen
To noise of silence, screaming signs
And just before you write the story
Read the old scribbled lines
Neither a victim nor a villain
A beset soul with both notions combined

Far far away from home, in a house that does not believe in birthdays, I decide to skip a year. I will not be 24 this year. I will not grow older this year.

And the day turns to dusk and dusk becomes night and the night shifts to dawn. And I am not older. I am not younger. I am me and I expand in indefinable dimensions, not age-related.

October.
Fall.

Leaves. Plenty of leaves. Yellow leaves and red leaves and orange leaves.
Wind. Fresh cool breezy wind. I walk on Air.
Downtown stands and subway heat.
Random people walking, smiling and spreading peace.
Friends and laughs and giggles over early morning coffee and snacks.

Goodies.

Cinnamon. Banana pancakes. Blueberry waffles. Pure Hot Chocolate. More Coffee. More Cinnamon. Lots of Cinnamon. Cinnamon Apple scents. Candy Apples with Cinnamon and Caramel. Cinnamon apple pancakes.Cinnamon Air. Cinnamon Leaves. Cinnamon Sticks. Cinnamon Colors. Cinnamon faces and Cinnamon clothes.

Night time. Sushi. Karaoke. Laughing like there’s no tomorrow.
And sing.

Clouds. Bird’s eye view.
A walk in the woods by the lake.
Trees. Trees. Trees. Green yellow and orange.
Sunsets and waters.
And Peace. Good friend and Peace. Nature and Peace.

Missing. Nostalgia. Smiles. Texts. And a Song.
Text. Text. Text.

Long drives. Music in my head. Shy Bright Sun.
Night and a Halloween-themed park. A ride. A maze. A hay ride. And Pumpkins. Lots of pumpkins.

And Family. Old friend and Family.
“I am here to satisfy your taste buds” he says.
Burritos. Pizza. Sushi. Indian. Herbal Teas. Ice cream. Lots of Ice cream. Heaps and Heaps of Ice Cream. Frozen tongues and slurred words and loud giggles. Ice Cold weather and rain. Nonstop rain. Running. Chuckles. Warmth. More Ice cream. Nonstop rain. Nonstop Ice cream. And Hats. Many many many hats.

Those few moments before I fall asleep. Late-night-cold catches up. I shudder. I shake. I drift. I frown. I miss. I shake. I come back. I smile. I think of the day. I think of the song. I close my eyes. And it’s morning again. And it’s autumn again. And it’s red orange yellow and green again. And it’s cozy and beautiful again.

And today I say goodbye to 23.
And tomorrow I welcome 24.
In peace and quiet.
And fall.

As thoughts lay scattered inside my head – taking a short break from all the running and hiding and seeking – I stand right in the middle in blue baggy overalls and a green bell-shaped hat with my uncombed hair tied in a loose cluttered ponytail.

I tiptoe – barefoot – with a straw basket, and approach some of the thoughts lying around. I pick one up, hold it close to my nose, smell it, look through it, shake it near my ears, look at it again, decide to either put it in my basket or throw it back to the pile, then move on to the next.

I gather what I need for the moment, and I go to the center where a huge witch pot stands in glory and anticipation. I revise the basics of my signature recipes, and decide to add random flavors to this one. I pick the thoughts and throw one in at a time. After each throw of every thought, I add ingredients. A pinch of optimism, a dash of excitement, a hint of madness, two table spoons of patience, a sprinkle of fun, a few whiffs of magic, one cup of innovation, and two full cups of faith poured slowly while stirring.

I bend closer and breathe in the aroma, eyes closed and smiling. I stand back straight with contentment.

I leave the stuff cooking and sit down cross-legged near the fire. As I wait in patience, I sing a soft lullaby and watch the flames dance.

And I wait.

He/ It is here.
Say hello.
*Hello*
Smile and wave as he/it approaches.
Now sit down.
Communicate.

.

Illusions, fiction, and reality…
I put them all in the blender. I push the ON button, and I watch them as they mix and mingle and dissolve. I watch the color of each fading as they form one unique shade of a strange familiar color. I pour my cocktail in a silver cup and drink it up.
That’s what I do.

.

.
I know facts.
I know facts that keep changing.
I notice the change and I record it.
I know the facts.
I know they change.
I can sometimes predict the change.
I cannot however always predict the form of change.
I know the current facts.
And I do not trust their consistency.

.

I know I do not know much.
I take everything as it comes. One thing at a time.
And I wait.

.

I know it’s not you. Not any of you. It’s me. My perspectives and I. My daydreams and Myself. My disappointments have to do with me, not you.  And knowing this, and knowing the facts, and knowing who I am – or most of it – I calm me down. And I tell her to wait (she who is what I am inside and out in every unique freakish possible way, my yin). And I tell him to wait (he who lives inside of me and occupies about one third of my brain, my yang). And I tell them to wait (little mini-me’s that occupy that little space in my head). And I tell myself to wait. And that’s what we do.

.

Frankie says in another context “the best is yet to come”
I believe him.
I know there’s more to come than just “the best”. I know Good and Bad travel together. I know how intense one of them could make the other.
But I have faith. In Good. And in Bad.
Most of all in Me. In my allegedly supernatural power to focus on Good, highlight it, and disregard Bad.

It’s not fear this time. It’s impatience. Longing.
Okay. And maybe one ounce of fear.
But I’ll close my eyes and surrender.
Come what may.
I’ll breathe it in with acceptance, and breathe it out more enlightened.

Come what may.
Already.

.

As for you/he/it.
Time to go.
Say good night now.
*Good Night*
Now leave me alone.