Crisp

Photo Credit: (c)deyanira.

The snow hasn't fallen yet - not really.  A few weeks ago the skies teased us with a taste of an early Winter, but it soon morphed into lovely Fall days.  Leave are everywhere. It's colorful along all the neighborhood streets. When parking along a curb, I can hear the crunch of the dry leaves which is as satisfying as a potato chip.

Untitled Cross-Over

My favorite poem of all time has just eight lines. It is filled with expectation, grief, and anxiety. I memorized it immediately and connected to the illustration. I thought about it again. Recited the lines--well, four of them and it made me think.

We don't get what we want. EVER. We get the result of what we do. ALWAYS.

Sometimes, we want a thing so badly we do whatever we think it takes to get it. The cost is irrelevant because all we see and experience is the void we desperately work to fill. It is a kind of downfall, I think now. To try so hard to be someone we aren't. To try so hard to attract the people with think we are supposed to be surrounded by. To [work] so hard not to see ourselves for who we are: hurt, broken, healing, healed, unsure, able, confident, scared...

We are our worst enemy.We are our worst critic.We are the only ones that can really hurt us.

I am struggling to understand how he is more damaged than me. How his pain runs deeper than mine. How, despite the similarities in circumstances, he is struggling to find peace within himself. I refuse to accept he is beyond growth and healing.

Do you hear that? Compassion. Still.

-- (c)deyanira.

"What a Day" written by Shel Silverstein // image found on Pinterest

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// "Oh, What a Day" originally posted, here. 

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Dear Reader, 

I meant to tell you about today. I can't articulate; it's all just a bunch of confusing emotions. I hope you found this cross-post thought-provoking. It's from the other blog, the one that is all about Him. Anyway, these words are fitting today. 

-dv-

Beat Your Own Drum

I can't get the words out of my head. They've been rattling around all day it seems. This song appears in the movie The Greatest Showman. I haven't seen it yet (to the dismay of friends). When Kesha stopped making music, it was because she was caught in an abusive relationship. She made an attempt to leave, and he held her career hostage.  She was mishandled and mistreated by a man she once trusted. 

Her music now speaks of growth, transformation, survival, acceptance, and new inner joy and peace. Coming forward to the public and placing herself on center stage is more than just brave. It's a love and respect for herself and what she's endured. The best lessons we learn are from witnessing vulnerability of others.

At the center of that vulnerability, we find our greatest strength.  

Don't shy away, dear reader. Don't hide. 

"I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I'm meant to be, this is me
Look out 'cause here I come
And I'm marching on the beat I drum
I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me"

// "This is Me" by Kesha

Jelly Fish

Surrounded by two dogs, four chickens, one cat, three horses, and a hidden mouse, I sit in silence. Well, almost. My "thumbs up" curated playlist with a variety of musicians and sounds lulls the animals to sleep.

The dark cloud overhead is moving away despite the nested nightmares. Of us arguing, of me seeing the real you, of you in the kitchen cooking. She lays on the couch in stockings clicking away on an iPhone watching us. Faced with my knowledge of the truth you continue to fry bacon. Why are you in the kitchen? Why the hell am I there? And, can she please put on some pants. Does she even know all those you hide? You'll hurt her too. You know that better than I. Your cruelty has no limit, in what way did I insult offend you to receive what I did from you?

"Twin Flame" (2017) 

This dream is about accepting what I've known throughout. You too easily gave her up early on. You too easily agreed with my requests. You too easily said Yes to me. My mistake and only mistake is to trust you. If only I could take all that time back. All the energy and wasted emotion. I could then erase the tears and finally, finally scream. 

It weighs on me still, the nothing you turned out to be. An encrusted shell you surround yourself with glistens in the moonlight. The sun turned enemy shows off the zirconias and not the diamonds you pretend to hold. She's too young to know the difference. And, suddenly I understand the appeal. The need you have to not be seen. She doesn't know you like I do. A part of me hopes she never will. 

#SurvivedHim



// *By the Horns* by Julia Stone

Write it Out

Syndrome

Take a look at this list. I typed "constantly changing" into the search field in hopes of finding something on a person's need to continually change aesthetics. It's comprehensive, this list is. It covers all the necessary things we're interested in our lives: ourselves and others. 

Photo Credit: (c)deyanria.

I never did find what I meant to: an answer to my constant need to continue to change this website.  Template after template, fonts, color schemes, and other tweaks. Too much self-editing. 

Giving too much and not enough - story of my life. I give people more than they need. Holding back seems, well, it's forced. I wasn't taught to be selective. I wasn't taught self-preservation. I was given examples of how to hide one's true self. It's much more work to do that than it is to give what I think you need. At least, that's how I see it: pretending. 

Don't get me wrong playing pretends was my favorite game as a kid. So much imagination goes into that. You never know how the story is gonna' go until you're right there making the decisions and bouncing ideas off each other. Remember how fun that was?

If you're still wondering about the title of this post...read the first search query. I read that as syndrome not synonym. For a quarter of a split second, I found what I was looking for. Yep. I did click on it. If you're laughing, worry not. You laugh with me not at me. 

// This late night post may not make sense tomorrow morning.

Sorry about that. 

Dreams and Snow Fall

The day began on the sidewalk. Standing under the powdered snow canopy of a mature tree I saw 3 deer poke their heads out from behind tall bushes. They eyed me but were far more interested in the small dog heading their way. The human handler almost made the mistake of following his dog. Glad he slowed down and waited for the deer to make their move. It's best not to frighten them by walking right into them.

Photo Credit: (c)deyanira.

Somewhere in the middle of the morning's deer sighting and rescue from leaving my keys hanging off the key rack, I found my smile. I can only laugh at myself for having to stand at the driveway for twenty minutes. I'm in good spirits these days waking from dreams never before had.

Not to everyone, but for some, remembered dreams illustrate parallels of waking life. I've written about mine before. Not just descriptions but discussing the odd connections and surprising insight. Food has made a reappearance. Nourishment. 

A typical food dream, for me, is walking the halls of grocery stores taking stock of the abundance of cheeses, fruit, and bags of potato chips. I don't eat any of it. I can't access it. At the register, the cart filled with food is left behind. I walk across parking lots empty-handed.  A common interpretation of the appearance of food is that consuming it is to nourish oneself. If you can't eat in your dream, you are unable to "take care" of yourself in the waking world. There is something in your life that you are unable to nourish, like your heart, mind, soul, body. 

Five days ago, I awoke having dreamed of stuffing so much food in my mouth that I couldn't chew! But, that didn't stop me from eating and eating and eating. First time ever. This is a big deal. This aligns perfectly with the state of things in my waking world. There is a sense of stability. Of groundedness. Direction. Calm. This is no coincidence, people. 

On this Wednesday, #WindowWednesday in some internet circles, I submit a photo taken within the last week. Nothing but raindrops to wash away all the burdens. There are enough drops for everyone. 

This day ends with a strange sense of accomplishment. 

Fear Not

We can't be afraid of what we hold inside. Our minds. Our hearts. We carry all that is the Universe. The past. The future. The every day. The light. The dark. You are the culmination of every person that lived and died before you. You are the catalyst of the next generation of people that will carry you all through their lives. We never really die - just cease to exist. 

I wrote a bad poem, as bad poems go.  Won't be the last and certainly not the first. I'm good at 'em. They take time. They're not easy. Challenging as they are, I love to write 'em.

Rain falls.
Leaves fell.
Snow floats to the ground.
I think I may, I think I might run down these halls.
Holding secrets I'll never tell.

You seek me. But, I hide in a place that can't be found.

~ⓒdeyanira.

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This Hubble Telescope image is known as the Galaxy Cluster Abell 370. It's quickly become a favorite because of the tail-like or snake-like star field in the center. If you can, zoom in and take a look. It's fascinating. 

You can download this photo, here. Also, on the same page, read about the BUFFALO program. This is helping Hubble capture an even wider range. 

Galaxy Cluster Abell 370
September 13, 2018
copyright 

The Leaves are Turning

I read today. At the hair salon. Under the heat-helmet contraption. Why is this worthy of a post, or merit delivery into your inbox, you ask? Well, I focused. Read every word without distraction. The ADHD-like and hyper-depressive mood swings I've experienced, since this time last year, are dissipating. Finally. Relief. Balance. Calm. 

Artist Unknown

My fingers are crossed. This week has the potential for bright productivity. More appropriate interactions with others. And, remember those interactions clearly, like what I said and who I said it to.

A girl can dream. So, I do.

I'd like to share, my kitten King Leonidas George Muffin, but we call him Roman for short, the First, is behaving oddly. He's low energy. A bit droopy. He drapes himself across my lap or my chest. If I move, he doesn't. This is the most noticeable change.  Months past, he'd jump and run away. He waits, instead lets me pick him up without protest. I have no explanation. Initially, I could say the foster cats affected his behavior. I could even go as far as Roman feeling a bit left out or pushed aside by the temporary arrangement.

I enjoy the extra cuddle time, but not if he's suffering from lethargy.  A visit to the fur-baby doctor is around the corner. 

Roman, circa 2017
(c)deyanira.