Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Hot Mess Mama: Don't read this.

Hot Mess Mama: Don't read this.: There seems to be a trend.  It started simply enough, a few artistic types looking for ways to express themselves.  Jot down a few words, sh...

Hot Mess Mama: Coffee in the locker room

Hot Mess Mama: Coffee in the locker room: Sitting in the locker room, pulled up a stool, sipping Folgers coffee out of a Styrofoam cup.  Gulping down the caffeine while I can.  No ti...

Hot Mess Mama: Dead end road to perfection

Hot Mess Mama: Dead end road to perfection: Little girl runs by.  Pink boots, leopard leggings, puffy vest.  Mamas little helper as she offers to get 3 cups of water for her family.  T...

Hot Mess Mama: I used to have time.

Hot Mess Mama: I used to have time.: I used to have time.  Time to sit.  Time to sleep in.  Time to think about myself, my future, my life.  I no longer have time, every moment ...

Hot Mess Mama: Heart of my heart, me to the bone.

Hot Mess Mama: Heart of my heart, me to the bone.: Now sitting in the kitchen surrounded by sacred silence, and the aroma of fresh, hot, black coffee.  Beautiful baby girl sleeping after an e...

Hot Mess Mama: Lost Zen

Hot Mess Mama: Lost Zen: I lost my Zen some where today.  Not sure when, or how.  Just that it was some time between beautiful baby girl spilling searing hot coffee ...

Hot Mess Mama: There used to be a time................

Hot Mess Mama: There used to be a time................: There used to be a time when image was everything.  Fit in, don't fill out.  Clean pressed, and smartly dressed.  Missed opportunities o...

Hot Mess Mama: Manipulating Media

Hot Mess Mama: Manipulating Media: The balance between loving and loathing, thinning the line one magazine article at a time.  The bipolar lens of who we should be, bombarded ...

Hot Mess Mama: Timer

Hot Mess Mama: Timer: The timer buzzed and the rest of their breakfast went into the garbage.  Tired of raising my voice, tired of them not making a choice.  Tire...

Hot Mess Mama: Epic Fail

Hot Mess Mama: Epic Fail: Sometimes you just fail.  Today was one of those days for me.  I got so caught up in the tasks at hand, and finally tackling the laundry mou...

Hot Mess Mama: Things I used to take for granted................

Hot Mess Mama: Things I used to take for granted................: Peeing alone. Long baths. Late nights. Sleeping in. Hot coffee. Alone time. Silence. Date nights. Clean hair. Clean cloth...

Hot Mess Mama: Depreciation

Hot Mess Mama: Depreciation: Out with the old, in with the new.  Why is new always best?  Cheap, prefabricated, pop together IKEA veneer.  Nothing sturdy, sound, and ful...

Hot Mess Mama: Awake Daughter

Hot Mess Mama: Awake Daughter: The white witch is dead and with her demise comes a sigh of relief from my inmost parts.  Permission to smile, laugh, gaze and dream begins ...

Hot Mess Mama: Walk

Hot Mess Mama: Walk: Tired of the empty rhetoric, posturing for control with words.  Not convincing anyone due to the lack of substance in your step.  What if we...

Hot Mess Mama: One of those days..........................

Hot Mess Mama: One of those days..........................: It has been one of those days.  Nothing of note that should trigger the avalanche of emotion hidden beneath the surface. Trying to keep a ca...

Hot Mess Mama: Jump off the tight rope.

Hot Mess Mama: Jump off the tight rope.: The rubber meets the road and suddenly good intentions and ideals are hard to find.  The balancing act begins between life and idealism.  So...

Hot Mess Mama: Transparency

Hot Mess Mama: Transparency: Lord save me from myself, my good intentions and misplaced emotions.  The coffee is growing cold and my feet are warm under the covers.  Han...

Hot Mess Mama: Never ending..........

Hot Mess Mama: Never ending..........: Sometimes it is daunting looking at a blank screen, so many thoughts and nothing to say.  Tired eyes that will soon be closing and taking th...

Hot Mess Mama: Lauging at the days to come.....

Hot Mess Mama: Lauging at the days to come.....: There is no balance in life.  This myth of  balance has overtaken conversation.  If only we can strike the right combination, the perfect re...

Hot Mess Mama: Higher Ground

Hot Mess Mama: Higher Ground: Somewhere in the middle and there is no place for me.  Left or right, front or back, watch the pendulum swing.  No mans land, neutral ground...

Hot Mess Mama: Filling the inbox

Hot Mess Mama: Filling the inbox: You are sitting next to me right now and are 4 years old.  Your thumb is in your mouth as you wait patiently for me to be done.  It has bee...

Hot Mess Mama: Page in a book...........

Hot Mess Mama: Page in a book...........: Papers of the heart, found loosely kept in the pages of a book.  Tendrils of life and death interwoven with the memories they drum up.  The ...

Hot Mess Mama: Hard Stop

Hot Mess Mama: Hard Stop: This is a different kind of tired, not just a mere weariness of the body, but an ache that reaches down deep.  Andrew and I have always been...

Hot Mess Mama: Not Easy

Hot Mess Mama: Not Easy: There is a lie out there, it permeates our first world minds, leaving a bitter taste whenever challenged.  It is the lie of ease.  Somewhere...

Hot Mess Mama: Sleep

Hot Mess Mama: Sleep: Sleep evades me.  We used to be so close she and I, it was easy.  Like a small child passed out in the back of the car, carried up the stair...

Hot Mess Mama: Where we left off

Hot Mess Mama: Where we left off: I lost you somehow, right through my fingers.  Some losses are easy to loose, the bonds are broken and the heart strings removed.  Not so wi...

Hot Mess Mama: Freely given

Hot Mess Mama: Freely given: My heart is not my own.  I gave it away piece by piece to those around me.  Small children of my womb, loving husband, sister, mother, frien...

Hot Mess Mama: In regards to gardening...........

Hot Mess Mama: In regards to gardening...........: I am purposefully ignoring the laundry piled next to me on the couch, sunshine and laundry never mix in my world.  Perfection would be the w...

Hot Mess Mama: The second year of marraige.

Hot Mess Mama: The second year of marraige.: For many the life we live is not for them.  When the fact that our family of five lives with nine other adults comes up in conversation most...

Hot Mess Mama: Loving and Hating July

Hot Mess Mama: Loving and Hating July:  Part of me hates July.  It leaves a sour taste in my mouth as I think of Joi and Levi.  I had forgotten exactly what day it was due to all ...

Hot Mess Mama: Forgive us

Hot Mess Mama: Forgive us: I have been thinking.  Thinking about all of the violence that happens, and how it inflames our personal biases.  A tragedy happens, lives a...

Hot Mess Mama: Cromwell Harvest Fest: Deep breathes

Hot Mess Mama: Cromwell Harvest Fest: Deep breathes: Getting ready to leave for the weekend.  Up north, hometown, small town, harvest fest, might even check out the football game.  I never thou...

Hot Mess Mama: There will always be laundry.

Hot Mess Mama: There will always be laundry.: Thoughts have been piling up in my brain lately, just getting to sorting them.  Like the abandoned laundry pile that has been moved to the g...

Hot Mess Mama: I would never...........

Hot Mess Mama: I would never...........: I have grown accustomed to day old coffee, preserved in a jar in the fridge until it is called upon once again.  Reheating it in the microwa...

Hot Mess Mama: I am tired.............

Hot Mess Mama: I am tired.............: There are many things going on lately, most of them lying beneath the surface, quietly wrestling in my mind late into the night.  Sleep does...

Hot Mess Mama: Thy kingdom come............

Hot Mess Mama: Thy kingdom come............: As a mother of 3 small children I wonder what it would be like to loose one of them.  But I can't dwell there for long.because the despa...

Hot Mess Mama: What my Pinterest page tells me............

Hot Mess Mama: What my Pinterest page tells me............: Kids in the tub, legos on the table and cold coffee in my cup.  Little miss decided that her lunch was better off on the floor, and it is st...

Hot Mess Mama: Goodbye Facebook news feed!

Hot Mess Mama: Goodbye Facebook news feed!: I distinctly remember the day I saw technology in a new light.  I was walking down the hallway at college about 10 years ago and I saw 3 peo...

Hot Mess Mama: Power of choice.........

Hot Mess Mama: Power of choice.........: There are moments that open our eyes to the frailty of human kind.  Even as I sit here typing with one hand simply because of a fall, I grie...

Hot Mess Mama: Bread crumbs on the table.

Hot Mess Mama: Bread crumbs on the table.: I am not sure how it happens, but it does none the less.  Little things pile, small pieces of a busy life, a full home are left lying around...

Hot Mess Mama: I really don't care what the media has to say........

Hot Mess Mama: I really don't care what the media has to say........: Billboards bombarding bombing my eyes with navels and drivel of how perfection ought to be and them saying thats not me Women's eye...

Hot Mess Mama: Sweet and Petite

Hot Mess Mama: Sweet and Petite: I've got this little girl named Fern.  Sweet and petite, feisty and spicy, with a quirk all her own.  There is this little thing about t...

Hot Mess Mama: Fresh snow

Hot Mess Mama: Fresh snow: Snow is falling.  It brings freshness to my soul.  I grow tired of dingy, brown winters.  They feel as if we are stuck, not moving forward. ...

Hot Mess Mama: One is harder then Three

Hot Mess Mama: One is harder then Three: I need a break from my baby right now, so I ran her a shallow tub and let her play.  Every couple of minutes she yells mama in a pathetic to...

Hot Mess Mama: The opening piece I wrote for my sermon....

Hot Mess Mama: The opening piece I wrote for my sermon....: My children leave traces of themselves all around.  Littered about the house.  Doodles in my sketchbook, stickers on my dresser, muddy footp...

Hot Mess Mama: Sifting

Hot Mess Mama: Sifting: I have come to this blank page several times in the last 2 months, it greats me coldly, daring me to type.   I leave it there not having a s...

Hot Mess Mama: random words

Hot Mess Mama: random words: I have this deep desire to throw words at page and see what sticks.  To unleash all the thoughts that mash around in this brain of mine, and...

Hot Mess Mama: Reflection in the mirror.

Hot Mess Mama: Reflection in the mirror.: I looked into the mirror tonight, long and hard.  The fine lines are growing deeper, skin tougher, eyes bloodshot.  This is not self loathin...

Hot Mess Mama: Remembering Joi

Hot Mess Mama: Remembering Joi: I remember you.  I remember your Joy, your love, your compassion.  I will continue to remember you.  Not all is rose colored, least of all y...

Hot Mess Mama: If only....................

Hot Mess Mama: If only....................: I got what I wanted.  This is it, the life I pined for in my early twenties, overtaken with romanticism and optimism.  I wanted a husband, c...

Hot Mess Mama: Folding the fitted sheets.

Hot Mess Mama: Folding the fitted sheets.: The children are playing in the laundry, so far they have showed enough restraint to stay away from my folded piles and are currently rollin...

Hot Mess Mama: Deep Breath

Hot Mess Mama: Deep Breath: Swimming is quickly becoming part of my rhythm.  Wrapped in the cool quiet.  No sound, just water, breathing and thoughts.  Swimming is of c...

Hot Mess Mama: 2 am

Hot Mess Mama: 2 am: I have become well acquainted with this time of night as of late.  Sleep has never been easy, and has been growing increasingly more difficu...

Hot Mess Mama: Small things

Hot Mess Mama: Small things: The moment my life ended and the world continued without a pause, I was stunned.  To have something so valuable taken and no one to take not...

Hot Mess Mama: What ifs at 1 am.

Hot Mess Mama: What ifs at 1 am.: I am not sure if I am in the right mind to type right now, sleeplessness has once again over taken my life and all the social filters have b...

Hot Mess Mama: A God who moves mountains.

Hot Mess Mama: A God who moves mountains.: Moving mountains has never been my thing.  People say its all the rage, getting the big stuff taken care of, but for me it never happened.  ...

Hot Mess Mama: Thank God we don't get what we ask for.

Hot Mess Mama: Thank God we don't get what we ask for.: We will celebrate 13 years of married life this Tuesday.  We have grown together in such a way that I cannot imagine myself with anyone else...

Hot Mess Mama: Stepping out on the waters................

Hot Mess Mama: Stepping out on the waters................: There is a bin in the basement, at the bottom right hand corner of some shelves in my unused pottery room.  The contents contain hope and fr...

Hot Mess Mama: Healing

Hot Mess Mama: Healing: The surgery is good, helpful, therapeutic, and life giving.  But in the moments after the surgery, when the anesthesia wears off, there is t...

Hot Mess Mama: Side by side

Hot Mess Mama: Side by side: There is something about the quiet moments side by side.  The comfort and trust.  The complete comfort around each other.   The lack of need...

Hot Mess Mama: Loved so deeply...........

Hot Mess Mama: Loved so deeply...........: The passion that Fern loves me with can at times be overwhelming.  Wanting no one else when I am around, clinging to me, crying for me, call...

Hot Mess Mama: First day................

Hot Mess Mama: First day................: The twinge lessons with each child.  I remember Ezekiel's first day, waking early, picking the clothes, marking everything with his name...

Hot Mess Mama: The world is so big, and I am so small.

Hot Mess Mama: The world is so big, and I am so small.: Article after article, post after post, heartbreak, soapbox's, lifestyles, crafts, ways of living...........  So many things, and only o...

Hot Mess Mama: Hard choices.............

Hot Mess Mama: Hard choices.............: There are moments when choices must be made........  To lay down something that you love for something that you hope to love again.   It is ...

Hot Mess Mama: Forever in our hearts..........

Hot Mess Mama: Forever in our hearts..........: The lonely ballerina plays as I type.  It is haunting, achingly beautiful.  Sounding within a deep place of the soul.  The choreography acro...

Hot Mess Mama: ........................................

Hot Mess Mama: ........................................: I have nothing to say, yet the word bubble up inside.  This drive to create, to speak, to act, when all else says "No".  In discov...

Hot Mess Mama: Just the beginning of a thought, more to follow.

Hot Mess Mama: Just the beginning of a thought, more to follow.: Thinking often and often late at night has become the rhythm of my nocturnal life.  Scrolling through a page with faces of my past, happines...

Hot Mess Mama: Soon.....

Hot Mess Mama: Soon.....: I feel it.  You are not alone little ones.  The days are bright, warm and full of promise as you pull on your school uniforms, and step insi...

Hot Mess Mama: Mundane

Hot Mess Mama: Mundane: Beauty in the mundane..... How?  Why?  I am much more drawn to things of the romantic persuasion.  Give me life, give me death, just don&#39...

Hot Mess Mama: Finite

Hot Mess Mama: Finite: Things are broken We are broken Celebrating life and mourning death We are never prepared All die, and yet...... Yet war against i...

Hot Mess Mama: The Devil Can Go To Hell

Hot Mess Mama: The Devil Can Go To Hell: The scream bubbled up from within, originating from my toes, from the empty aching place in my chest, shook my body and the filled the car. ...

Hot Mess Mama: My People

Hot Mess Mama: My People: I have a people, a tribe, a family. They stay. They comfort. They sit. They listen. They give. They love. They stand. They speak.......

Hot Mess Mama: Turn

Hot Mess Mama: Turn: My children are at the age where Sunday school answers are the norm, neat and tidy.  So it should have been unsurprising that when asked for...

Hot Mess Mama: Swimming to shore....

Hot Mess Mama: Swimming to shore....: I probably need therapy....  Treading water, keeping my head above the waves, getting knocked down over and over, always surfacing and survi...

Hot Mess Mama: North Shore

Hot Mess Mama: North Shore: The north shore is intoxicating to me.  Wild beauty, lost adventure, edited memories......  I find myself craving the water, rocks, culture,...

Hot Mess Mama: Jesus and Appliances

Hot Mess Mama: Jesus and Appliances: 10% off if you love Jesus.  A nudge from a brother to get that shiny new fridge, ordained by God in my Craigslist query.  666 results to my ...

Jesus and Appliances

10% off if you love Jesus.  A nudge from a brother to get that shiny new fridge, ordained by God in my Craigslist query.  666 results to my search (serious here), washers, dryers, whirlpool and Frigidaire.  Gleaming and glittering idols of domesticity.  Just say the words and reward will come, a small nudge to put the customer base on auto-repeat.  No real knowledge of the condition of the heart, this good intention to bless falling on empty resonance. When there might not be any resemblance of faith in the day to day life, the mundane, the dishes, laundry, the muttered phrases, the bellows of frustration as you reach in the fridge to find an empty milk jug, slamming the door of your glittering idol standing there as your 10% reminder of the words you spoke.

Friday, July 28, 2017

North Shore

The north shore is intoxicating to me.  Wild beauty, lost adventure, edited memories......  I find myself craving the water, rocks, culture, air, and wonder why we left.  But I know the answer.  Reality of life, of work, of education, of calling.  It is so easy to romanticize a place in your past and even though it still makes my heart skip a beat and awakens a lust for life that I thought was lost to me, I know that this isn't the place for me any longer.  My people are not here.  There are sweet remnants, dear friends, beautiful memories, but the roots have been cut.  I have been rooted and established in the urban wilderness, drawn my boundary lines, spoken my commitment and planted my heart there.  It is a different kind of wild, a different need, a different call to deep.  And while the north may refresh me, it no longer sustains.  I miss this place, crave it, romanticize it, but ultimately must let it go.  It is the affair that draws my attention away from practical life.  I have made my choice and now I must own it, but north shore you shall always be a sweet memory and place of refreshing for when my person is dry and thirsty from practical life.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Swimming to shore....

I probably need therapy....  Treading water, keeping my head above the waves, getting knocked down over and over, always surfacing and surviving, but never making it towards shore.  Lost in the abyss of expectations, giving away pieces of myself to any who demand my time while watching my family slip away.  I have always been a giver, a supporter, sturdy, but the cost is getting too high.  I feel trapped, trapped by obligation.  One person told me that I don't have to help people.  And she is right, I could just look out for myself, but I don't want to end up like that person.  Only looking out for myself, placing my needs above the needs of others.  If I didn't care about people it wouldn't be so hard.  But I do care, deeply......  And so I give, and give, and give till my hand is slapped away.  10 years of living in community, 10 years of giving, 10 years of expectations, of people getting angry at us for being human.  I chose this life, and continue to choose it.  I believe that it is a life worth living, even though it feels so hard on days like today.  I am not perfect, my children are not perfect, my husband is not perfect.....  We will fail you.  This drive for perfection in Christian leadership is stifling.  Everyone else can fall to pieces, but not you..... I look at my children.  Fern is in nothing but a diaper from nap time, pen on her legs and arms, messy hair, dirty face.  Yet as she sits in the sunlight watching her brother play with Lincoln logs I think that there is no one so beautiful as her.  She is completely lovely, griminess and all.  If only we could view ourselves and each other with such grace and compassion.  Am I okay?  Yes, I will be fine.  At this moment it is hard, but I am still treading water, and hopefully soon will begin swimming to shore.

Friday, June 9, 2017

Turn

My children are at the age where Sunday school answers are the norm, neat and tidy.  So it should have been unsurprising that when asked for ideas to write about they gave me "Jesus" and "Aslan".

 Oh to have the answers be so simple, so absent of grey.  Sweet child the world does not think as you do and perhaps that is the problem.  We are unable to follow one simple direction.  

Turn.  Just turn.  No formula, no equation, no check list, no shame, no guilt.....  Just simply turn around.  See, taste, follow, pray, seek, find, love, forgive, and share.  

Humanity mucked it up, added to it, and thus removed from it the power of simply trusting.  Trusting that God is good.  Trusting that we don't know all.  Trusting that there is hope.  Trusting that redemption is possible.  Trusting that Love is real.  Trusting that transformation happens,  Trusting that death has been defeated.  Trusting that there is more.  

But we don't trust.  We want to know.  To be demi-gods.  To have all the answers.  Back to the garden we go, day after day, eating the fruit, saying that we want to be like God.  Not understanding that the only way to be like God is not to steal it from him.  To be like God we only need turn, open our arms, and accept a gift that could not be done in our own strength, complete and total forgiveness, through the sacrifice of Jesus.

When Digory was tempted to take the fruit from Aslan's garden the witch promised him all those things, having just eaten it herself.  Not realizing that from then on beautiful things would be bitter to her, and life would loose it color, just as her face had lost its.  Digory choose to not take for himself but rather give of himself, lay down his desires to heal his mother, and honor the agreement he had made with Aslan.  Once his journey was complete Aslan spoke to the longings of his heart and told him of the peril that would have befallen him had he taken.  But freely given, the apple gave life, health, beauty, and a doorway back into Narnia some day.

We like to teach our children many things, one of them being that it is okay to ask for help.  Another being that we will never stop loving them.  That we will hold them accountable.  That we will encourage them to grow.  And that we want to see them become the people that they created to be.
Maybe we should start practicing it ourselves.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

My People

I have a people, a tribe, a family.
They stay.
They comfort.
They sit.
They listen.
They give.
They love.
They stand.
They speak......
Truth
Peace
Joy
Wisdom.
They are the ones on whom I know I can depend.
They are the ones who have stood the test of......
Time
Grief
Joy
Transition
Anger
Confusion.
At my worst, they are the best.
They are my people and I am theirs.

Monday, May 15, 2017

The Devil Can Go To Hell

The scream bubbled up from within, originating from my toes, from the empty aching place in my chest, shook my body and the filled the car.  The car that I had been driving in for over 6 hours, had left my house in early that morning, and now was in as it was bringing me to the funeral that I was in the process of missing.  Whether by a hair, or the skin of my teeth, or by mere miscommunication I was missing it.  The damn broke and out flowed all of it.....  The sadness, the rage, the hopelessness, the longing to understand why?  Why?  WHY!!!!!!!!  7 years, 5 deaths of note, all too young, all too soon, all so loved, all family.....  It felt as if I was buffeted on every side, so many things taken in the last few years, with no explanation.  Just the dull ache of something lost, someone lost....... Senseless...... God and I have become intimate sparing partners, and so I readied myself to plunge in, to grapple, to sink my face into Gods chest, wetting it with tears, beating it with my fists.  I knew God could hold me, so I screamed, and screamed, and ran my voice ragged.  Readying myself for the fight, the questions, the reestablishing of trust.....  But as the last remnants echoed from my throat, as the air became still,as my body trembled, and the hot tears flowed, the emotion changed.  WAR.  I was at war.......  Analogies of war have always deeply troubled my inner child, the idea of celebrating and validating mass death due to a political ideology chills me.  We drop bombs on brown skinned people like they don't matter, many of them our brothers and sisters in Christ, sacrificed to the idol of  nationalism.  It is something that I will never support, and yet I was at War....  Like coming out of a fog I saw the enemy for who he was.  He comes to steal, kill and destroy.  Anything...  Anyone....  Indiscriminately.......  Savagely........  With lies and corruption, with depression and suicide, with sickness and sin, he comes to take away anything good and beautiful.  And if you are good and beautiful he will try to cut off all that you hold dear, to turn you away from your only hope.  Abusive and manipulative, he strips you of those you love, and plants the insidious question of Why?  Why would God?  Where?  Where was God?  How?  How can God?  Cutting down all you love and then manipulating you to blame your only hope of his defeat.  I will no longer take part in this abusive, manipulative relationship!  I so I readied myself for War.....  Come at me and I speak Jesus.  Attack me and I will praise my Lord.  Hurt me and I will cry out to my God.  Every attempt you make to separate me from the Great I Am will only plunge me deeper into in his presence.  Kill me, and I will be with my Savior.  Kill me, and my funeral will sing the praises of the most high God.  You can do nothing to me, my salvation is secure, Jesus's name will always be on my lips.  I will invite him into every place, bring him into every dingy bar, every shot of whiskey, every dysfunctional family gathering, every dimly lit place, the light will shine,  Come at me devil, I dare you!  Every strike you take at the ones I love will be met with the battle cry of  Jesus.  Your time is short, your sentence pronounced.  And as far as I am concerned......  The devil can go to hell.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Finite

Things are broken

We are broken

Celebrating life and mourning death

We are never prepared

All die, and yet......

Yet war against it

As if something tells us it has all gone wrong

Eden lost

Far reaching consequences of personal choice

We thought we knew

We wanted to know

It was humanities undoing

Seeking what was not ours

Taking what was not meant for us

Finite understanding

Finite lives

So now we mourn

But not for long

We are finite

But there is infinity to be found

if only.......

We would step down from the throne

Friday, May 5, 2017

You get what you get...

I found a new wrinkle the other day, it just magically appeared one morning and decided to stick around.  I would like to say that I welcomed the new friend, that I welcome this new me.....  But I find a war of ideal vs real playing out.  Surely I am not that....  That vain, that weak, that old, that conceited, that fat, that saggy, that woman grasping at what has already slipped away.  Down and out the back door, secretly, quietly, till one morning what you see is what you get.  You get what you get and you don't throw a fit......

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Mundane

Beauty in the mundane..... How?  Why?  I am much more drawn to things of the romantic persuasion.  Give me life, give me death, just don't give me somewhere in between.  But life is found in the moments of in betweens.  Time has passed as has life, moments come and gone.  If I am not careful life will pass me by as I wait for moments of grandeur.  Romance being the cocaine of life, the upper, just one more hit, oh to feel so alive.  Coming down being so much harder, life being so much less.  But the air is thin when you are high, rich when you are low.  Weighty, dense, complex........ I will take richness over high airs any day.