>I want my soul to feel like I imagine amber would taste. When you smell the essential oil, any essential oil that has amber…that deep smokiness, the nearly bawdy flavor tone that still somehow implies elegance.
That is what I want my soul to feel like.
Regression isn’t change. Regression is an ostrich, head down with life passing by overhead. Forward motion is sexy, fluid and to me, amber colored.
I found God at my feet…at my weakest, lowest point. When i felt i couldn’t take another step, the weight of the world was so heavy and Sisyphean. She said just take the next step, and the next, and the next…
And everything will begin to fall into place. Don’t be distracted by the noise at your side while you stride, just continue putting one foot in front of the other, and the things that are supposed to be in your path, will be there. The other things, the things that pass away, will pass away.
whilst cooking dinner, i was listening to songs and bits and pieces caught my attention, and provoked memories, some good some bad… some, inexplicable…and the bits and pieces of those songs just jumbled together into thoughts, some may only make sense to me, but i have a feeling, some will resonate with you…
‘I’m so provocative and you’re so conservative’… ‘And there’s you and me, with nothing to prove and I just can’t keep my eyes off you.”
‘When I’m with you, the clock is always alive’… ‘and I’m always reminded that I never told you what I should have said.’
and then on the heels of that, this collection of thoughts on need…
After everything been through, how does the need rob the heart of its memory? How is the hurt negated? Or is it? Does it just become a known issue, and thereby become mitigated? why do we knowingly… KNOWINGLY walk into what is inevitably going to be a painful situation. why is it with some people we long for that?
‘Not giving you another hour or a second or a minute longer.’
I will not be a well behaved woman today… or any other day for that matter. (i saw this on twitter recently, i forget by whom, so i can’t give accurate credit, but it’s been a bit of a mantra lately, especially when i’m feeling particularly powerless).
and then i came to the realization, seemingly simple, but utterly revelatory in this incarnation for me that…
Your issues are strictly that, your issues. I cannot and will not take any ownership of how you feel. I can however, attempt to not tread on you, as much as I do not want to be trod upon. However… HOWEVER, my feelings are valid, too.
I am chocolate-flavored, amber-scented glitter…and that does not make me soft.
It will never make me soft. Unless, I choose to be soft.
The firmament of me is something i’ve been questioning for a while. as in what constitutes my firmament. and then it hit me…
My firmament is fluid.
There’s this bag that I carry, my hobo bag. It’s made of woven, raw-silk and I think it’s gorgeous (and it smells of amber). Actually there are a lot of bags that I carry. I consider myself a well-heeled bag woman. Somehow I feel unprepared and naked without my journal(s), a book or four; some current crochet project and one I may want to start in the new future. Not to mention a snack, or my water bottle, my iPhone, earbuds, maybe my laptop, various pens, lip glosses, keys, hair ties, sunglasses, lotion… you get the idea. You just never know when you might need some of this stuff, right, so you might as well be prepared. At least I try to be.
I’d be a boy scout if they let me. No, I really wouldn’t. I made the off-handed comment to my 14 year old son last night, as we did something rather efficiently, that ‘your mom is so super duper efficient’. He didn’t say anything and just went back to politely eating his candy bar. He knows me well enough to know that I’m anything but efficient. Efficacy is NOT on my resume (which is odd, given my career choice). But I thought it funny that he thought it was funny. He’s an improv comedian, and his silence, goofily eating the candy bar, was a quiet joke between us that i’ll cherish for eternity.
And I’m okay with that. Part of that whole, knowing who you are thing. And I know who I am. I think. At least for today, I’m reasonably sure I know who I am.