Monthly Archives: October 2010

what falters

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Turbulent Saffron © 2004 (photo), 2005 (comp) Dawnne

Turbulent Saffron © 2004 (photo), 2005 (comp) Dawnne

we dream, we live, we die. and that is how it always has been, ever shall be, ever can hope to attain. all, and something more than that, and something less.

and something completely different.

we are mesmerized by the lighted shadows, the shadowed lightnesses, and the sudden gleamings, no matter how disconnected (and all the more so if consequently irretrievable).

there is laughter in the light of the moon, and fear beneath the blazing sun.
a separation: there is naught but wandering.

reminiscences pale beneath the onslaught of the here-and-now; they fade. yellowed, grayed and musty, they depart from us slowly, though we bathe still within their subtle light. drawn to them (drawn of them), we grow, possessed still of an internal innocence that shall never grow old.

and so, begun again, that one unfortunate scream
metes the silence with all the anticipation that normality can bring to bear.

displace, this place

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yeah, that last one was a bit more obtuse than intended. so, to clarify:

i don’t really hate it here per se. there are, at least, some really great people that i’ve met here over the past few years, and i enjoy having them in my life. theoretically, they enjoy having me in their lives as well. the only trouble with that is the fact (a very literal fact) that they are overwhelmingly from somewhere else, transplanted here just like i was. and it is they, along with my children, which constitute the only things that are keeping me here right now.

whenever i do get to leave, i know i shall have mostly good memories of this place, and certainly of these people.

mostly.

but things came together in such a way that i very much am in a holding pattern, now. how long i hold here has yet to be theorized, let alone determined. but i am waiting to leave now, and yes, the waiting for it bleeds.

but aye, some of it, i will miss. indeed. i am, after all, transformed somewhat by my experiences here.

Transformed By Evening Shadows © 2005 (photo), 2007 (comp) Dawnne

Transformed By Evening Shadows © 2005 (photo), 2007 (comp) Dawnne

changes within the ever-changing unchangeable

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stasis is not a thing i do well, and moments of unclarity like this do not range far from my definition of stasis. i feel that i’m at a crossroads, taking a moment’s pause before choosing which direction to turn, or not to turn, but in truth, there are no divergent paths before me, no turns to the left or right, no forks in the road ahead. i’m just pulled to the side for a bit; maybe to gather my strength, or maybe i should get out and walk. at least that would constitute some sort of decision to make….something to do.

okay, i’m no longer terribly thrilled with this metaphor. let me try another.

did i ever mention i’m not terribly adept at waiting? yeah, i probably did. when that for which you wait is unwelcome, the waiting for it bleeds.

once upon a time, this is what waiting felt like for me:

Tempered Impatience © 2004 (photo), 2005 (comp) Dawnne

Tempered Impatience © 2004 (photo), 2005 (comp) Dawnne

it may convey something different to you, and to be honest, you’ll never hear me say anything like “this is the perfect image to describe ‘waiting’, in my opinion.” this was just what waiting felt like to me at a certain time: a waiting of a certain form, when all the things being waited upon were undefined, unknowable, hidden, mysterious, unresolved. but i do keep coming back to this image at moments like this, remembering the “then”, and comparing it to the “now.” sometimes, it’s even beneficial. and at other times, it might even feel that way.

there is a sense of acuity that comes with experience: a knowledge that the things to come will be better than the things that have been, at least in retrospect, for in later years we enjoy the privilege of coloring the things that were with the knowledge we have gained from them.

on days like this, the shadows fade, and on days like this, reminiscence is a muted scream.

inconsequentially yours

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words do not begin…

it recycles, and that annoys. but, it’s never the same.

the problem with me is that i remember. i don’t have the type of brain that memorizes every word that is spoken or written, whether outbound or inbound, but i remember so much else, so many other details, usually visual or aural, that will haunt me all of my days.

just this past week, unbidden, came sounds from the night of my high school graduation dinner, an event that hasn’t entered my mind again in over twenty years. that’s what i mean by haunting. i remember, but i can’t always call things up at will. instead, the memories come almost randomly, and leave me cold.

and so, words do not begin…

sometimes, i catch myself about to do something that i’ve done before, and if it’s that type of thing that doesn’t really need to be done in the first place, well, that irks. recycling is good for the environment, but this kind of recycling makes me worry about my brain. i don’t like redundancy, even if those who were to receive what i’ve had done or said would never have had a way to know i was being redundant.

maybe even especially then, when i know it’s only me that i annoy.

and words do not even remotely begin…

i was chatting with a friend last night, and something came out of my mouth that surprised me: that within the short span of less-than-three (pardon the pun) months, i have learned to love without being selfish about it. that’s a bigger accomplishment than you might think. and more than that, i’ve learned to keep myself above the age-old tendency to lose myself in the emotion, in her. it is a different thing: one that took far longer than it should have, to accomplish.

and while the words fail to suffice to describe it all, neither do they prevent the enjoyment anymore.

i started writing this in late august, and got sidetracked with life, living, and the pursuit of not being borne down by the music i listen to (the things that remind me of where i’ve been, what i’ve done, and whom i’ve known, in other words), into the depths of remorse and might-have-beens. the vectors of certain tangents in my life are helical: not quite recursive, but they come back around, time and time again, and the where-i-was is in view for long, painful moments until i move up and away and around and back again.

i had to make a break with the one who haunted me all those years. it’s not a clean break, and if i think about it (or her) too much, it’s the one thing that can actually bring me to tears. it’s a regret, true and thorough. i had intended never to have such a thing, but there it is. i’ve cried more for her than i have for the mother of my children, but the tears, now, lack the power to sway me.

syntheschism

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there’s a need for it like nothing i’ve ever known: a growing, changeful thing—a nuisance to itself and others—a thing that separates itself into anxiety, rhythm, bright darkness and understanding: things we tend to treasure, as if such things were remotely unique.

but it is a need. an intrinsic need: a part of the underlying conditions. a hopeful, insistent, semi-sentient, nearly-autonomous thing that seems to take control and drive us, and the only part about it that makes any sense is that those who experience it nearly invariably come to identify themselves by the virtue of its touch.

and then it changes, shifts, coalesces and divides again, trailing off in multiple directions, accomplishing different things, becoming far more than what was intended, sometimes until it’s far too large to rein back in. it becomes the light, the dark, the in-between, and eventually, it is everything and nothing: both more and less than what it was, and what we ever dared become.

it doesn’t matter what it is.

it is us.