Chance for Flight

has a chance /
doesn't want to stay here /
sees an opening in the sky /
dives forward /
is afraid /
pulls back /
falls /
can't stand /

can't fly /

must move /
must climb again /
there is a chance /
an opportunity /

lunges forward /
only to fall /

cannot lay here /
must not stay /
much too vulnerable /
will not stay /

stands on feet /
breaths in /
looks up at hill /

so much distance /
for what /
don't know /
doesn't matter /
better than staying here /

places foot in front of foot /
decides to continue /
finds it hard to /
hates trying /
doesn't know what's at the top /

what if it's the same /
will it be worth it /
hard to tell /
it's so far /
but staying here is /

doesn't finish thought /
can't finish thought /
can't process /
won't process /

tear falls down /
wants to stop /

it's too hard /
is the struggle is worth it /

just one foot /
in front of the other foot /
just one more /
and one more /

looks up from grass /
stops moving /
is at the top /

stares at sky /
watches clouds /
breaths in /
cries openly /

one chance /
one last try /
maybe it's what they said /
maybe it will be worth it /
the journey might be worth it /

tries again /
jumps /

YSA Centennial Dance Performance

I broke my car. Metaphorically. Futuristically.

...sigh...

Dean sat down today, and turned on his computer so he could talk to his son. They used Skype. I walked by the room, and heard talking and laughing. How beautiful, I thought. I was jealous of him. Jealous because he keeps his car in good condition.

I don't keep my car in good working order. When it breaks down, I take it to the shop. Because I need a means of transportation. Dean looks after his car, works on maintenance, cracks, oil, windshield repair... He hardly ever needs to take his car into the shop. It hardly ever breaks down.

Do you see what I'm saying? Dean looks after his car, like he looks after relationships. He doesn't wait until they break down before he fixes them, he gets on his computer, and talks to people he's not close enough to talk to in person! He gets out the phone and has real communications with people! I, on the other hand wait until my car has broken down before I fix it. If that! I'll fix it if I really really need it! If I don't need my car, I won't fix it! What a selfish disaster I am!

I don't change the oil in my car!

...sigh...

I'm taking a moment to analyze myself. It doesn't seem to be helping my mood. The relationships around me flounder. The relationships not around me (ie: out of circle of friends) are less than floundering, but rather non-existant. I just don't talk to people. I don't change the oil in my car.

Ugh. Maybe this will help. I'll be taking on the challenge of the computer hiatus. I shan't be on for the next two weeks, in hopes that something good will come of it. Maybe I'll be forced to talk to REAL people, instead of facebook, fake people. Maybe I'll have to square with myself and actually send letters.

Goodbye cruel world. Was nice knowing you.

...sigh...

"Ordinary Boring Molecule of Water"

Ha! I think this is my favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic to date. hahahahahahahaha....!!

Excuse me while I make my exit from learning how 'normal' people behave. I think I would rather be an abnormal individual, than a normal carbon copy of the next guy over.

Fulghum

My favorite author, is Robert Fulghum. I've read good books, (lots of them) but it's always been unimpressive as the Author gets high on themselves and has a name that's recognizable. They lose touch with that part of them that first begged them to write. They lose the reason they started. And yes, they are skilled, and yes, often they continue printing good messages or great story lines... But few authors have that spark for writing that they had when they began.

And though I couldn't pin down what by definition that 'spark' is made of, I know it's there. Call it what you will, and label me crazy, there's a spark of inspiration that almost draws through the words on the page, the eyes of the author themselves, alive and excited.

I find that Robert Fulghum has continued this spark. How ever it is that he has done it, he stands out in my mind. Even though sometimes vulgar, or off topic, he connects his soul to the words, and the words to the reader.

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge-
That myth is more potent than history.
I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts-
That hope always triumphs over experience-
That laughter is the only cure for grief.
And I believe that love is stronger than death."

Robert Fulghum

Amen.

PS... I have a site for awesome quotes. Robert Fulghum has a few among them.

Loving By Letting Go

To Let Go does not mean I stop caring for you.
      It means a new form of trying is to let you be.
To Let Go does not mean I abandon you,
      It means I realize I can't control you.
To Let Go does not mean letting you take advantage,
      It means I allow you to learn through natural consequences.
To Let Go does not mean piloting alternatives for you,
      It means I hope you choose to affect your own destiny.

To Let Go is to admit powerlessness
      Which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To Let Go is not to change or blame you.
      It's to make the most of myself.
To Let Go is not to take care of your feelings,
      It's to care about how you feel.
To Let Go is not to fix or judge you,
      It's to support and accept you.

To Let Go does not mean I shelter you from truth,
      It means I offer you experience and growth.
To Let Go does not mean I regret the past,
      It means I grow and live for the future.
To Let Go does not mean I criticize or regulate you,
      It means letting us both become what we dream we can be.
To Let Go is to fear less and love more.

      To Let Go might be the only way to love.

Riddle Me This

Riddle me this:

How many blossoms unopened at best,
may land in the autumn, forever in rest.

Have they been let fall? What is it yet,
for the blossoms to fall, is it hope or regret?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

What is to know, and less for to see,
if truth is obscure and barely your need?

For the words on the page, seem idle and weak,
but simplicity begs the truth that you seek.

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

I can't lift it up, as I can't change a view.
Impossible to steal, yet stolen from you.

Now ought I to try, not to refrain,
stealing the stolen back home again?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

The chill of the winter, may shatter the road.
The heat of the summer may liquefy gold.

What is the virtue, of knowledge untold,
when hope chills the heat and warms winter cold?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

Were the signs not enough, shown through the law,
of natural preference in a leaf with no flaw?

Or the beams of the sun, or wind now explained?
Yet interpret you will, away and ashamed.

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

Could the mouse do much better than the dragon to chase,
or the fish than the horse in winning a race?

Compare to the truth of fear versus faith,
how is the message, and how would it change?

So riddle me this.
Riddle me this:

Encased in the moment, forgotten in time;
was in fragments shattered, like forsaken signs.

Is there hope to recover, or sight to regain,
or neither an answer for nothing to feign.

Please riddle me these
Riddle me this,
I beg and I plead
you will not dismiss.
Riddle me, riddle me,
Riddle me this.

Sera Johnson © 2009