Diametrically Opposing Realities

As the intricate cloak of the past fell to the ground
A child appeared where a woman once stood

Eyes that had previously seen the world though a mist of grey fog
Now see it through those of an inquisitive toddler

Although both views are intimidating
They brought, and will bring, laughter, tears, joy, and fear

Both perspectives are multi dimensional learning experiences to be embraced
The wonderful, treasured, memories of decades past are mingled with a new life

The merging of two such diametrically opposing realities bring challenging obstacles
That in time will unite, completing the circle that was written in the universe centuries ago

A new woman will emerge energized with the finest of all that has been learned
The dark times will be integrated and will be seen for what they were intended

Light cannot exist without darkness, learning without failure, appreciation without loss
Strong winds will come in hopes of bringing failure and doubt

We can allow our feathers to be ruffled or we can seize an upward current and soar
We can choose to see only the darkness of night or the brilliance of stars upon black velvet

The choice is ours to make
The circle ours to complete

xoxo

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Sleeping In The Snow

I feel the need to write but of what I don't know. The thoughts vaporize the very moment they begin to manifest.

My head is filled with looped, unending, visions of the mingling of past and present. There is no cohesive pattern that can be identified.

My homeless, mentally ill, son sleeping in the streets of Portland in the snow is haunting. In my mind's eye I envision him crouching in crevices, hidden tunnels, tent city, hungry, cold, scared, confused. The beauty of downtown lights, parks, sidewalks, in the midst of snowflakes gently falling, is washed away with the realization a child of mine has chosen a life that has no foundation in reality.

The thought of him suffering is too much to dwell on, so I push it aside in favor of Jenga, hot chocolate, the fur of my German Shepherd that continually covers the Saltillo tile floors in my home, and how I will make it to the gym tomorrow in this weather.

I'm thinking of my newest tattoo and my addiction to ink, the allure, the rebellion, the sensual seduction it represents. I miss my sensual side, the eroticism screaming from deep within my soul. It's been buried for far too long and I'm not sure how much longer it can remain so. I feel out of sorts and unbalanced.

Next my mind wanders into the following week when I will be making a drastic change in my appearance. I'm excited but nervous, joyous but unsure.

I'm thinking of the feel of the Egyptian cotton sheets on my bare skin, the smell of the almond cream around my eyes, and the sound of a campfire emanating from the sleep therapy console on the dresser.

I have beautiful thoughts, symbolic imagery, dancing dreams, attempting to flow from my mind to my fingers to the keys on the computer but they are quelled by thoughts of warm weather, Palm Beach, Vallarta, Cabo, Waikiki, and those are darkened when the heart of a Mother remembers the smile of her child when he's not in a psychotic state. He's an adult now, and my hands are bound. However, my heart, my love, my concern is with each of my children but tonight mostly with the scruffy, bearded, man-child, roaming downtown avenues seeking a place of warmth in the icy cold of the harsh weather. May God be with him, and with all of my children.

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