Let me dream this night.
Let this night's dream be an odyssey.
Let me live an entire life in a single night, and all the while, let me know that it is a dream.
Let me face challenges, but when the journey takes a turn for the terrifying, I will not be terrified, because I'll remember it is just a dream
Let me overcome my obstacles and let me surprise myself.
Let me fly.
Let me dip my hands in the twilight and blend color and light into Van Gogh's Starry night.
Let me resume my quest, despite knowing it is just a dream.
Let me face down the armies.
Let me rebuild villages.
Let me befriend the dragon and free the captives.
Let me be strong and brave and bold.
Let me then grow old and wise.
Let me whisper what wisdom I've gleaned into the endless void, in hopes it may reach someone in need.
Let me do all of this, knowing that it is just a dream.
Let me face my end with warmth and joy, knowing that though this dream is ended, another will soon enough begin.
Let me embrace my dream's ending without fear and without remorse, knowing it is just a dream.
And in my final moment, before I am my waking self once more,
Let me glimpse myself as I am, and as who I have always been.
Thursday, 12 December 2019
Wednesday, 11 December 2019
Recycling our last fight OR A reason to Dada
What if we changed the conversation?
Not the words, just the order.
What if we gathered up all those curses and slurs that poured out our mouths, placed them upon a blank surface, and then rearranged them together?
Could we change that conversation?
Could we change it enough - enough so that we don't walk away hating each other?
Hating ourselves ...
How many different combinations could we make?
How many would it take?
Words like shame, disappointment, betrayed, coward, monster - in what order would they need to fall, to sting any less?
Not the words, just the order.
What if we gathered up all those curses and slurs that poured out our mouths, placed them upon a blank surface, and then rearranged them together?
Could we change that conversation?
Could we change it enough - enough so that we don't walk away hating each other?
Hating ourselves ...
How many different combinations could we make?
How many would it take?
Words like shame, disappointment, betrayed, coward, monster - in what order would they need to fall, to sting any less?
Tuesday, 10 December 2019
A piece of dada OR a not-the-mama
substituted gratitude
Farewell yields
Wicked that feelings heart yacht
Words awaiting power
humanity
ll
we
re
fa
Heaven's unknown
the signal gave at now
expand a
And his good the
put punish said
have the me to been the signal
these now instantly
sea only the the the all
out God
this he of to
and if to
to I to and
as
“And now,' said the unknown, 'farewell kindness,
humanity, and gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings that expand the
heart! I have been heaven's substitute to recompense the good - now the
god of vengeance yields to me his power to punish the wicked!”
At these words he gave a signal, and, as if only awaiting this signal, the yacht instantly put out to sea.―
The Count of Monte Cristo
Monday, 9 December 2019
The not an apology OR Our regularly scheduled programming
So the entire reason I did this, was so I'd have a designated place where I could practice the discipline of "don't break the chain."
3 days ago I broke the chain. A 34 day long chain.
Too bad, so mad, but I had to break it.
Because I have a lifestyles that requires I put all things on hold to focus on 1 thing for a patch of time. Almost always to make money to live on. And if an audition or deadline pop up in the middle of said patch: sorry I missed your birthday :-S
I ran into one such patch, and I needed to recover.
Regrets, I have them: I wanted to keep that chain going strong!
... but now that I've stepped away from it, I also wanted to address something about the chain, or rather this blog.
I can keep a journal.
I have so many of them.
Some for random thoughts, some for notes, some for therapy, some for memory, some for dreams, and some that seem only suited for attracting every kind of liquid stain in my life.
So why an online blog?
Because it has a "Publish" button.
And until that button is pressed, the entry does not exist.
So I shall keep writing, and I'll keep publishing, and hopefully I'll sift through enough brain mud and emerge with useful gems.
Or maybe it'll just remain a place where I am bound by responsibility to my own self to stick to it.
Write one word, then the next, and so on. Until the thought is finished and I reach an end.
This is not my A-material, it is mostly first drafts, and it doesn't always sound like a person is writing it.
And the punctuation! It. Is. A. Nightmare.
Regardless: I took a break. It was needed. Now we get back to our forging.
3 days ago I broke the chain. A 34 day long chain.
Too bad, so mad, but I had to break it.
Because I have a lifestyles that requires I put all things on hold to focus on 1 thing for a patch of time. Almost always to make money to live on. And if an audition or deadline pop up in the middle of said patch: sorry I missed your birthday :-S
I ran into one such patch, and I needed to recover.
Regrets, I have them: I wanted to keep that chain going strong!
... but now that I've stepped away from it, I also wanted to address something about the chain, or rather this blog.
I can keep a journal.
I have so many of them.
Some for random thoughts, some for notes, some for therapy, some for memory, some for dreams, and some that seem only suited for attracting every kind of liquid stain in my life.
So why an online blog?
Because it has a "Publish" button.
And until that button is pressed, the entry does not exist.
So I shall keep writing, and I'll keep publishing, and hopefully I'll sift through enough brain mud and emerge with useful gems.
Or maybe it'll just remain a place where I am bound by responsibility to my own self to stick to it.
Write one word, then the next, and so on. Until the thought is finished and I reach an end.
This is not my A-material, it is mostly first drafts, and it doesn't always sound like a person is writing it.
And the punctuation! It. Is. A. Nightmare.
Regardless: I took a break. It was needed. Now we get back to our forging.
Wednesday, 4 December 2019
Witnessed OR Don't hold your breath
And it was upon this special night when our hero looked up.
Or was it down? Hard to tell when one is in a cave.
Was he looking up at the moon, or down at the moon's reflection?
For now, let us say our hero looked out.
At first he did not see, not while there was so much noise still in his ear.
The waters lapping on the stone walls, the stalactites crying into the pool below, or the winds from without moaning their way through the channels within.
But then, as if all at once, all sound ceased.
Not even his own air was heard.
One held breath, and it was done. Or had it started?
Regardless, only a single sound was heard:
One gentle beat of the universe.
The one inside of him, inside of us.
The first sound we learn to live with.
His heart, and the eternal pulse, were in sync.
And the moon, no longer a moon, was no longer shining, it was seeing.
A lidless eye. An observer. A witness.
Witness to a breathless hero.
He looked down at infinity.
Or was infinity looking up at him?
Hard to tell.
We would ask him, but they're still staring in and out.
And a moment in eternity, is still an eternity ...
Or was it down? Hard to tell when one is in a cave.
Was he looking up at the moon, or down at the moon's reflection?
For now, let us say our hero looked out.
At first he did not see, not while there was so much noise still in his ear.
The waters lapping on the stone walls, the stalactites crying into the pool below, or the winds from without moaning their way through the channels within.
But then, as if all at once, all sound ceased.
Not even his own air was heard.
One held breath, and it was done. Or had it started?
Regardless, only a single sound was heard:
One gentle beat of the universe.
The one inside of him, inside of us.
The first sound we learn to live with.
His heart, and the eternal pulse, were in sync.
And the moon, no longer a moon, was no longer shining, it was seeing.
A lidless eye. An observer. A witness.
Witness to a breathless hero.
He looked down at infinity.
Or was infinity looking up at him?
Hard to tell.
We would ask him, but they're still staring in and out.
And a moment in eternity, is still an eternity ...
Tuesday, 3 December 2019
Sleeping has become a chore OR Pass the Sunny D!
It was dark when I went to bed, it was still dark when I woke up.
And since the days are getting shorter this either means I slept for 9 hours, or just one.
I'm not worried about running out of time, though.
Because time isn't real.
We just made it up so we'd have an excuse to bring our phones in to class today.
Don't tell teacher.
And since the days are getting shorter this either means I slept for 9 hours, or just one.
I'm not worried about running out of time, though.
Because time isn't real.
We just made it up so we'd have an excuse to bring our phones in to class today.
Don't tell teacher.
Grey matter gardening OR Plant your dream garden: today!
Tonight, when you dream, plant a seed.
Before you plant this seed, whisper to it. Hum a tune and water it with coffee.
When you wake, you will not remember any dream you had.
Until that first cup of coffee.
Then, don't be surprised if you hear yourself whisper, and begin to hum a tune.
Before you plant this seed, whisper to it. Hum a tune and water it with coffee.
When you wake, you will not remember any dream you had.
Until that first cup of coffee.
Then, don't be surprised if you hear yourself whisper, and begin to hum a tune.
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