Lost my mind, no one noticed...

It seemed a lamp died somewhere. That from the cool, damp air the light was suddenly, soundlessly subtracted. I was sitting on the verge of a dream. Had I been younger I would have been content to sleep there. And in that drowsy, comfortable state I had a strange, habitual feeling, that the sun would wake me gently. I indulged that feeling. I half closed my eyes. And waited.

Often afterward, I tried to remember those moments. Tried over and over to recall just what it was that began to disturb me, should have disturbed me. How, being off my guard, I was somehow insensible to the subtle changes which must have been taking place in my life. But deluded with larger concerns, I made no note of them as they were so clearly happening. A lamp gone out, a candle extinguished by the shiver of its own hot pool of wax. My eyes half shut, I had the sense then of impending darkness. And then I opened my eyes, not thinking of lamps or candles. And it was too late.

I'm sorry for all the pain...

There's ghosts in the windows and walls...

Remember telling me I was gonna hit the big time?

Then you died, guess it was too good to be true.

Remember, sitting at the table, you 

talking about your old regrets?

It seems the quiet dreams have gotten much too heavy

but I'm home now, 

and I'll hold on through the pain.

I see my whole life...

Knock yourself out...

And so the wait begins. 

Again and again.

He is encouraged to take the plunge into the unknown and discover the mystery of his own life where every action becomes an effortless, appropriate response to whatever life brings him. And as he tries to peer into his future, he imagines things too big for words; and so he stumbles. A condensation of myths that become a flat crystallized mass. His reality is a rounded thing that pulses. It overflows the mold of words. He cannot tell what they are doing. He can only radiate himself. That is his form of expression. Take it as truth, as you pass by this thing that is not a blog: he is yours.

That's so true...

I think I need a purge of my fantasies because it's starting to feel like I've stuck my head in the sand while everything is falling down around me. I can't ignore the damage. I have to track the exact trajectory of the hurricane because knowing the precise moment it'll hit and where will make things hurt less. At least, my brain is convinced this is so. The world outside feels so insubstantial and irrelevant, like a video game environment that's still buffering. Sometimes, I do manage to forget it all for a moment, but then my focus slips, and then my breathing quickens, and my head swims, and once again, the fantasy takes hold. Paradoxically it's the only thing that calms things down.

Only heaven knows...

Have a little too much of something terrible...

He thinks he cannot live anymore. That the light of his soul has been put out and that he will stay in the dark forever. But when he is engulfed by such solid darkness, when he has both eyes closed to the world, a third eye opens in his heart. And only then does he come to realize that eyesight conflicts with inner knowledge. No eye sees so clear and sharp as the eye of hope. After grief comes another season, another valley, another him. 

I know, I know. I've sent too many things into the universe and now am I bargaining with it for at least a few to come true, while in fact, none will probably see the light of reality. They're all such great fantasies though. Some of the best I've ever conjured. And even if they will probably never be found, I will keep them with me everywhere I go. I'll see them in the drop of water that falls into the ocean, in the high tide that follows the waxing of the moon, or in the morning wind that spreads its fresh smell; I'll see them in the symbols in the sand, in the tiny particles of rock glittering under the sun, or in your throbbing vein. How can my dreams be taken away, when I see them in everything?

Story to tell hallelujah...

I don't always feel it,

but that's when I need it the most,

I'm going to keep on singing,

until my soul catches up with my song.

There's times when my hands go up freely,

and times that it costs,

there's days when a praise comes out easy,

and days when it takes all the strength I've got.

That's so true...

She once told me that there are fragments within me that are the same age as the universe. That a part of my souls has been passed on for eons. Small shards that retained their initial brightness and purpose. Made from the tears of the universe as it wept when it saw the beauty of its creation. And because of those small pieces, we can never truly be destroyed. A part of us will live forever and ever. Finding connections, seeking out others to fill the mosaic of your existence. Breathing joy, celebrating living, and becoming perhaps something greater than your initial self. Greater than the sum of your parts.

You were right there all along...

Sam na oblaku

ne pustim dnevu da se budi,

vrtiljak trenutkov izmišljenih.

Maybe this was life in essence, time in its shrouded malleability. All of it a microcosmic round as the universe begged him to listen to its only message; none of it matters but love. So he allowed himself to feel it all: the fear, the anger, the sorrow, the subtle beauty leaking in through the cracks, the everythingness of pain, and in the end the love wrapped around it, soft and loud and invisible. All of it intrinsically connected, each moment a shared experience. Perfection was simply loving himself while broken, to move forward while still human. To strive for nothing but accepting exactly where he was at. To simply be here, now.

I hope you find your way home...

Time is cruel and incredibly brief. It is both merciful and patient while being fragile and easily broken. It is bright and way too fast. Autumn doesn't last long at all, and just adds to the quite funny arc that is our life. Knowing fear as a child, being completely bewildered by the sheer scale of our world. To conquering yourself as a young adult, and finding ways to make a difference. To going back around to fear in your older years and knowing that your initial assessment had always been right. Life was an endless churn of helplessness and fear we had no control over. If only I could learn to swim my way through it.

I will be the one who's stronger...

Love me to my bones...

Time stood still,

just like a photograph,

you made me feel like this would last forever.

Looking in your eyes,

I see my whole life,

They say you know it when you know it, 

and I know.

Promise that you'll hold me close, 

don't let me go.

It's not on you, it's in you...

Taking my mask off...

I'm here to tell you, and myself as well, that if at any given moment we feel like we're too much, there's still a place for us here. If you feel too much, don't go. If the world gets too painful, stop and rest. If you need a break, it's okay to stop for a while. This life is not a contest, not a race, not a performance, not a thing that you win. It's okay to slow down. We are here for more than a job, more than a promotion, more than keeping up, more than getting by. This life is not about status or opinion or appearance and we don’t have to fake it.

And I know this isn't a revolutionary thought. A lot of us feel this way. It's just good to be reminded that if your heart is broken, it's okay to stare at the shattered pieces on the floor. If you feel stuck, it's okay to take your time wiggling yourself out. If you can't let go, it's okay to stubbornly hold on. We are not alone in these places and we are more than just our pain. We are more than wounds, more than drugs, more than death and silence. There is still some time to be surprised. There is still some time to ask for help. There is still some time to start again. There is still some time for love to find you. It's not too late. If you feel too much, there's still a place for you here. If you feel too much, don't go. There is still some time.