Monday, March 7, 2016

just now: march.seventh.sixteen

current time: moments before I should be leaving for work

in my belly:   Lady Gray tea in a Panera cup from yesterday

out the window:  a bit of frost, that will disappear very soon

in my ears:  woke up with “Let’s Dance” by David Bowie in my head

by my bedside:  “John The Baptizer” by Brooks Hansen.  I’ve been working through this one for a while.  It’s in novel form and a lot to work through, but someone I’ve been wanting to know more about.

watching:  don’t spoil me, I’m watching the finale of Downton tonight.

wishing:  I could be home more, weekends are a flirt, going so fast and leaving me satisfied but longing for more.

feeling:   appreciative of the coming Spring

learning:  how to put together lesson plans for Em now that she is homeschooling

good things:  hot tea in the morning, spending a weekend morning out with Em, when K comes into my bed in the middle of the night, being so close to help my Grandmother when she needs me, the olive bar at the grocery, my new fluffy pillows

the love list:

want to see The Man Who Knew Infinity, love Dev Patel
there’s a jellyfish cam,
this word: psithurism
I made this so incredibly easy cake this weekend
cute kitten overload

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

the curse of the infp

my heart hurts from all this

talking, talking, talking 

is anyone actually


to what anyone else is saying


I feel like I'm giving up on the world.  I'm watching the way the people around me treat each other. I'm watching my Facebook feed fill with opinions, opinions, opinions that are treated like pure fact.   I'm watching the utter nonsense that gets spoken about who will get elected and why and why not and can't we all just get along.

It just keeps getting louder and louder and louder and people keep getting meaner and meaner and meaner and suddenly everything that everyone does is wrong, not good enough, to be shamed.

It’s hard to be the feeling one
It’s hard to be the empath, the perceiver
The sensitive one,
who cares too damn much

Please, I just need a still small space full of kindness and quiet, just for me. Right now, before my heart explodes.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

swift scenes-the forest

{photo from Pinterest, no source listed}

The forest was old.  It knew many secrets.  Secrets that it guarded, given to it by the Creator.  The forest as it grew learned the keys to this world.  It knew what was needed to thrive.  The forest had passed many hundreds of years standing strong and protecting itself and its creation from what passed it by.

The forest was sacred.  As the land around it was taken, through need, through exploration, through progress, the forest remained.  As if some great force was protecting it, it continued its calling.  Its purpose.  The forest housed life, from the long buried earthworms, the most diminutive of insects that crawled across its roots, to the animals that sought refuge inside the sturdiest of trunks and the birds that flew among its guarded canopy. 

The forest was a sanctuary.  Created from all that was good, it grew in its own time and at its own pace.  Life flourished.  Native flowers blossomed unhindered.  The shaded ferns unfurling themselves each year.  The branches lay dormant but each spring flourished in a vibrant green that burst forth in new hope and thrived until the period of decline came, itself so beautiful, heralding a last glorious brilliance of color before coating the soil in a blanket of detritus that would serve it in its rest and retreat the following winter.

Any living thing that came to the forest thrived.  Plant, animal, even human.  Humans were a rare sight in a forest this deep.  The few humans that did venture to the forest left different than when they came.  The ones that came to the forest had open hearts.  They felt a longing to something more primal, some draw to the nature of things, some grasp of the understanding that there is more to what is seen on the surface of things.  The things the forest knew but could not teach, only provide.