What are three things you know to be true?

There are Three things that I know to be true.

Number one:
I’m scared
I’m scared of a lot of things,
But today, I’m scared of being trapped,
of being trapped in the dark,
where trying to claw out only pours down more dirt into my eyes.
I’m scared of going down a path I can’t jump off of
because my feet are glued to the ground,
with walls closing in on all sides and all the doors locked.
It is entrapment and claustrophobia.
No. You see, the problem is,
I like choices
I like choices way too much
I like the choice to explore perpetually.
I like choices so I can keep dreaming my dreams of a future,
Parallel futures in parallel verses and parallel universes.
In one, I can be that researcher in hip waders with a teeming net of organisms to keep me curious for years.
In another, I can be that photographer hunting human faces, their smiles and tears, to remind the world of life.
In another, I can be that writer with heart torn out and life blood dripping on the pages to be read by strangers.
But as I slide from course to course,
I’m finding that I’m missing prereqs,
that doors have closed around me,
slamming without me knowing
until I’m looking back
and wishing
that I had kept that one door open, and that one too...
What is left is this hallway I’ve been molded into,
shoulder shoved through the crowd
until I’m the last standing and not knowing where I am.
And I’m scared that this path is trapping me.
I’m scared.

But I know this too, my number two.
The second truth:
I don’t know where I will end up.
Two years from now:
Will I be in grad school working on a thesis?
Or in Africa playing soccer with the local kids?
Two minutes from now:
Will I be enjoying the warmth of applause?
Or sneaking off stage to the sound of crickets?
I don’t know where I will end up.
And that the path in front of me, it’s taking me somewhere
but I can’t see into that darkness
so maybe it will trap me for a while,
but then it will open up
because paths always open up
They fork and branch and even at a dead end, I can always go back
So I will be ready.
I will carry all of those dreams I’ve been dreaming,
of kayaking around the world and watching a sunset for a continuous 24 hours,
down every single dark path I tread I will carry these dreams
because who said I can’t go back and follow a frayed dream thread
and make it shine again?
And who said I can’t braid all those dreams together
and find a way to do everything, anything, I want to do?
Because I don't know where I will end up.
And that’s ok.

Cause you know what? It doesn’t even matter
My third truth:
It doesn’t matter where that place is that I will end up.
I mean, it does matter, a bit.
Because it is that goal I’m trying to reach
and it is important to have goals to strive for
and to reach – to reach out and touch the stars or at least feel the sun on your face.
But everything changes,
that winding path
that goal, that place.
Even me. I change.
And that place I’m trying to get to, it won’t be there when I get there
at least not the place that right now I’m thinking that I’m trying to get to
Because, you know, I think that I think too much about the future
and worse, I think that I worry too much too:
that I won’t study enough for my final,
that I won’t enjoy the party because I don’t know anyone there,
that I won’t be ready to be thrown out of the safety of undergrad into that big, scary world.
And all this worrying makes me focus on a goal, that endpoint.
And I forget
that I’m not really at point A trying to get to point B
that I’m somewhere in between.
Point A is long gone, my journey began before I could breath!
Maybe even before my parents could breath or maybe even before that!
So I’m not at point A anymore.
And point B is somewhere out there
in the fuzzy, murky future
So it shouldn’t matter where point B is anyway!
So refocus, rethink, reimagine.
I’m here, right? I’m here, right now, somewhere between where I started and where I’m going to end up
And right now, where I am right now,
It is only going to happen once.
And where I am now is where I can enjoy being
because I’m not lost when I’m here
I’ll never be lost if I live from moment to moment, now, now, now.
And where I am now is surrounded by friends.
And where I am now is happy.
I’m happy.

So the three things I know?
I’m scared
I’m scared I don’t know anything
But it doesn’t matter, because I’m here, I’m happy.


http://www.ted.com/talks/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html?awesm=on.ted.com_sarahkay

Quiescent

"Why was the secretary general quiescent in 2008? Because some UN member states – notably the United States – had openly supported Kosovo’s independence as the only practical solution after years of fruitless negotiations with Serbia. Since reconciliation within the Serbian state was impossible, recognizing secession appeared to be the lesser evil." -What does Kosovo mean for Quebec?

Quiescent:
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin quiescent-, quiescens, present participle of quiescere to become quiet, rest, from quies
Date: 1605

1. : marked by inactivity or repose : tranquilly at rest
2. : causing no trouble or symptoms 

Quiescent Reflection
Willis Gray Gallery, Decatur Alabama
24"H x 36"W

— qui·es·cent·ly adverb


Within surrounding horror,
there is solitary tranquility
when the quiescent tears freeze hell
acknowledgement in grief, 
peace-less, in pieces, and spent,
we shelter in restless repose
any instant, silence shatters, life initiates
horror indefinite, or annihilated,
endure, deny, or rise
to live

Reflections

You began when you told me that you had to leave. We were too much of a twisted tree, sprung from two grasses and twined at the neck. We choked each other till our chlorophyll leaves fell from our arms.

So you began.

You’ve been transplanted and you re-sprouted your lovely roots exploring your new dark, rich soil. You’ve been trellised and been shot up on phosphorous, and now you’re strong with thick bark. I guess

I’m glad for you. 

Glad that you have birds flitting through your branches, that you are able to smile and flirt. I should be glad.

Should. But my heartwood aches, with cracks to the pith. 

It’s not so much you, you is an abstraction now, you can be the sense of love itself, it doesn’t have to be you, though it is you who I am addressing. And to the one I’m addressing, I don’t miss you. I miss the other you, the sense of belonging and joy, passion and growth towards the ideal light. While your leaves grew back with the spring, mine shriveled, my branches remain black etches on a grey sky. I want to find a passion again, a chance to leave the earth and fly or float down a river and 

scream with life.

Gummy Bear

it starts out sweet and delicious
                                               like a gummy bear
                                               fruits and sugars and hugs
aftertaste, aftermath, catastrophe
                                               the delightful movement of the
                                                          ethanol,
                                                                    glycerol,
                                                                               formalin
swirling around your tongue,                    stunned
that eddy in which your
                                               gummy bear drowned
then that fire and panic,
your own throat,
                                               gasping for the sweet bubbly air,
                 out of reach,
                                               sucking in death, laying still
at the bottom of the glass


                                                                            .Strawberry
                                                                                  Margarita.

Ice

And now, and now you go

into the snow, into the storm of snow.

And now, and now you say

we end today, we end our love today.

But I won’t let you leave me

out here, in the cold, winter night

where tears, running down, turn to ice.

Hiding, me away, from your sight,

you say, we’re to high, of a price

And the best for us depends on you

taking the warmth away,

And leaving only cold behind

to remind me of your stay

And now, and now I cry.

Please tell me why, you never told me why.

And now, and now I know.

Died long ago, our love died long ago.

But I won’t let you hurt me.

I must, must have known, all along.

Its time, I move on, make a vow,

And learn, learn to heal, to be strong.

No one, will I let, hurt me now.

And the best for my life depends on

thawing the pain away,

and letting Flowers grow from Ice,

making the most of the day.

(Flickr CMM Photostream)