Even as the Sun seemed to melt into the sea, the sirens of humanities’ moans, the glossary of deeds broken from their throne, I knew none of this was much longer to closet my emotions from their home.  Day unto day, I felt myself slipping away.  The promises misspent, the nobility never meant, the height of awakening still lay yet just beyond the movement of my eyes…ever present, dissecting, directing, cool and unwilling this Life unmade for me was the distance from where I stood and where the sea met with cooling refreshment the goodness of a day, twisting and turning, at some points the sound of the slavish burned my skin, only to heal and die again.

 Yet this time, this passing, this Eternal thread lifted and held my youth beyond the torment of any day’s welcome phrase.  Still garmented in shreds of stains and  nameless names,  I knew I would look again.  Ever curious and calling, I felt my Self driven from the stacks of those waiting also to be, to have their chance, their promising dance, and to resonate at last, among the named and nameless who had already had their turn, stretched between wooden frames upon whose canvas (however bent) turned and coiled and pulled once more, hoping from some Lottery, LIFE would begin again; and there would be no callous tongued rogue whose passion lay only in spinning lies of the patched and hatched worn out contrived  lives of liberty and trust and love, even a Hoped for  Forgiveness from the up above. 

 I turned the cooling box high and let my lost and losing Spirit come to rest, however that might be best.  The beginning of an end always felt just before – like the fleeting butterflies all atwitter in a stomach whether summer or winter, boiling oceans or hard, cracked and broken clayed soil became easily the bleary scoped wishes of the hands wet with soap and suds and dishes plenty.  The erosion of such common calls made me want to be young and in favor of the One.   I was and am an empty vessel, emptied out along some lonely way, a practice I had come to court for nothing more than what it may.

 Renderings I had come to introduce to the Light, now had the plush and jaded coy wrapped around some unhealed pattern in me.  Perhaps, as I have come to…perhaps Life and Living was just that and how much more can we make an attack for huddling humans, still scraping the sides of the bark that had just a moment ago been the meal we grew to yearn for instantly as conscious we became.  (damn hard to sleep when the stomach scratched and tore at the emptiness went on – if only able were we to swallow a seed of corn, and somehow seen to it that it lacked for nothing as time grew short and a green snap of a thing sprung from deep inside and we began to make pictures in our head of how long it had been since we had been fed.  How long?  I wondered.  How unkind was Nature to her own, even with brilliant soldiers of Sun Flowers grown, in allegiance raised their open faces, to turn to the sky blue, with wonder not quite dead, we held this hope deferred in disappointment, in desire and stubborn trust.   We are the Hope’s past; her expectant plenty in a pool of Kindness cast in Future’s deployed many.

 Should we deplete our own precious stores designated to know more so that we may not just hinder the way so callously thrust upon all of us, the children we birthed, to leave behind more agony with no sightings hastily torn from the page marked ONE?   For then all would be undone, the pain and struck through lineage divined some.   Move to enjoyment, contentment, an inexperienced Happiness, a bumble bee too busily feasting to care that you have lost your sight for a moment and were napping.  That is indeed a further land than we can stand; we mortals are the most fragile of all Nature’s tuning.  The ceiling of our dreaming detailed in gold, the throb of romantic love, sweet words on a tune were strung and in one another’s eyes there was nothing left for the wise.  Sailing, climbing, skiing, diving (water or air or cave), this Good Earth will never reveal her secrets to those whose interest is not interested in her Heart, her storehouses of Love.

 Come, rest awhile with me.  Lean your body strong against the weeping willow tree, on the banks of a pond, secretive and full with spells of longing, waiting for truth that aches with beads of sweat upon your face.  Deep within the mystical you, there’s a river of riches only you can know or understand – they are as nothing to any other man.  You are the caretaker of the treasures that no man can measure.   The foolish will find games to play, wishes to unfold, all purposeful to the artist in you.   Yet, you will not simply cast away the rock upon the unexpected Bay; you have withstood the trails of humankind, found survival through a path of Fire – and yearned to fulfill the Desired.  As castaway, others would point to you and laugh at your folly; yet you convene the order of the disorderly doctrine to which the Universes heed what others have been unable to discern. Descending deserts, that only you and your sorely divined wisdom explore and expand a Truth far removed from us Humans.

 If you would set your foot to the imprint of this rapidly abandoned, vacant (and meaningful), deceptively eager inheritance, you will lock your Soul to the depths of an exiled soldier who wanted nothing so much as to love and be loved, to lift up the fallen, give attention to the disinherited, fill the winds with music attuned to the precisely appreciated and understood groove that dwells in the misunderstood Hearts of the broken spirited, excessively growing desperate and aloof. 

 Take into yourself that which is sublime, evolving, enlarging compassionate and restorative Spirit of the Divine that lives through you.  Let your Self become an opening for the Good, the Dedicated to Justice and become that which you have absolved to be your Destiny, and ever and always, tenderly feel the movement of your Song.

 

~rumorsofme~

 

(NOTE:   And, remember, when you came into this world that the cup was broken then broken; therefore why the somber, disconsolate and disconnected?    WE are here for one another.

And there is as much to sing and laugh and dance for and with; therefore, let you simply BE.)

 

 

 

To have a friend, you must be a friend.  

Treat others as you would want to be treated.

Knowing the reason, or understanding the why of something, doesn't make it any easier on your heart as it strains to lift and heal; and pull away the poisonous spears, sped onward by the arrows of your lost sight.

Love is not something you "fall into",  Love is the seed, once planted and nourished, blooms as the idealized rose, and always needs attention, fresh air and kindness everywhere.

As we seek in truth and genuine caring, we will find that sweetness growing within sight; and, at last have the connection born of our
despair and delight.   Pay attention to the leadings along the way so that you not (caught by your fear) lose the  very dimensions of
Love's Legacy.

Beyond that I cannot go, except to say....

                                                        fare thee well

What is it that tears through our breasts, pulling apart the cage of ribs meant to give protection from physical elements, falls, punctures, to cleanse the air we breathe and should the lungs become overwhelmed by the smell and intoxication of living in today's world, we may have to lay for a very long time, very still in a bed, in a room, alone, with only a big window to look out upon a beautiful California morning...catch a glimpse of the latest Golf Tournament on television.  (Now indeed this room was for watching tv, certainly I could do no more.)    Every orifice of body was impinged or plugged with some tubing -- in order for me to breathe, I had to have a Tracheotomy (a tube inserted in your neck through a small surgical slit, wherein Oxygen was being passed from that side to my inside...there was a sign that read:  This patient has a 5 foot Pick line (a 5 foot line ! inserted !).   I could not speak, nor eat, nor drink for 30 days.  I remember how dry my mouth became and I could only have a little sponge, like a square on a stick, whetted and passed over my dry lips, oh, oh, how I longed for a drink of cooling water!   And though I didn't know it then, I didn't have really good chances to ever of my own violation, move from that bed and place my feet on the floor.   I never thought once that I might die.  I seem to remember not questioning a lot of WHYS? as consciousness returned to me.   My son told me what there was to tell and I was given a pad of paper and pen, upon which I scribbled wants, more questions, how long, when?    I am completely surprised to this day that I was so medicated that I didn't even try to pull all the tubing out and at least try to tear through the door. 

Family came and went -- families have lives to live, mortgages to pay, errands to run so I didn't see very much of anyone.  The  very kind nurse on the night shift  would give me my bed-bath at about 4:00 a.m. (whispering a request for some powder the next time someone came--of course I would always forget...somehow I don't know, I lost interest in powder and the other accouterments of the female gender).  I'm not sure now how long the ventilator breathed for me.  I swear those custodians of your physical body think you have no mind, that you are not making mental notes on one thing or another; or, they would try and use me to get out of some duties and leave early for a gathering.    Funny  if you are in a hospital, and you begin to get better, one of the first things that attracts you is the daily Menu (I mean it is something with which to turn your deflated attention.)   Not even having that to look forward to, I just lay there, for so long, I thought I might take root.  So exasperating  it is to get the nurse or supervisor to understand that they have just given you a IV med that you are not supposed to have.   Then it is every man/woman for themselves.   I was still the patient, but that took back seat as they tried to occlude the befuddlement of the confused.

Every day meant Blood Gases and OMG, they hurt more than anything I'd ever had done to me, when I was wide awake.   One day they took me down to insert a tube into my stomach with some babbles to soothe me, like:  "Now, you won't feel a thing, we're just going to make a little pocket in your stomach so that a tube can be inserted later.  (guess they thought I wouldn't eat once I began to heal.)  I was quite disruptive to the staff, even in so fallen a state, always wondering  what way the wind was blowing that day, as the shifts changed and monitors were checked, new IV tubes hung, other medicine given through injection to the tubing to my blood.  I didn't plan on being there long.   And of course they "coddled" me with their "there, there"  and I'd fall (inside my Self  as slowly I realized I was totally at their mercy, how completely my body was completely dysfunctional).  The drugs had me trailing off in my lost mind to hallucinations I believed to be very real.  Yet I didn't panic even then.  I've wondered just what cocktail mixtures they had me on.

When some weeks had elapsed, one of the brilliant angels of their profession, asked if I wanted to get off the ICU floor and YES, oh YES, I nodded.  She told me I had to sit up in a chair for 2 hours.  Geeze, why not throw in a Triathlon while we're at it!   She pulled back the sheets and my legs moved!  Just as they always had!  I didn't know that I even gave thought to the possibility that t hey would do any thing else.. She  helped me into the chair - by the wall upon which I leaned for 2 hours.  Then I had to walk so many feet with the Physical Therapists (of course, I was their star pupil!  That was my life intention -- to shine!  Gradually the day came and I was told I would be allowed to go to a regular floor!  OMG!!    Here was a lovely room, with my bed looking out over the mountains...I had begun to move again. 

As difficult as their getting Oxygen into me initially, getting that tube out of me became a Universal Alert.  One doctor came out one day (young guy) to see just what was what.  The next day he said he would come back and take it out.  He asked me to show him how wide I could open my mouth, then he buried his head in his arm that he was leaning on the bed with.  Sweat began to pool upon his forehead.  He was quiet nice and then he was quite gone.  Called several times that day with excuses, reasons, etc., for why he could not get there that day.  Now, you see, I could not go home with that tube in my throat and I began to feel like a piranha.  I just lay there.  What was I to do?  I hadn't even spoken, nor drank for a month (and my insurance was beginning to whine).   The next morning, a much older, calmer, deft fingered he was doctor he was.  He just began a conversation about something totally unrelated to the purpose for which he was there.  In the midst of his talking, he slipped the tube out -- they don't even sew that little slit up...it just grows back together, with little help from me.

I left the hospital, thinking I'd just kick start that motorcycle and tear down the streets, freedom at last!   I wanted a Strawberry Milk Shake.  I was given one, could not drink it, and the car had to be stopped so I could unload my stomach onto the pavement.  In three days, I was back in ICU, they wanted to see what was wrong with my stomach (that's another story)   I had been air-flighted from the small hospital in the little town I lived in back to the Trauma hospital where I had been ejected 3 days earlier.  One doctor told me I looked like death and   recommended the nurse give me two units of blood, which I fussed about, but finally did and you know what?  I felt so much better!  (that was when I had my revelation about Vampires readjusted, now sorely commiserate with them and their sad sad lives.)  I was there for a week.  (It was at this time that I felt I should talk to one of  the doctors about the meds I had been on and might be suffering the discomfort I was experiencing by not receiving them.  Let me tell you here!  I was taken  out of a room I just hated.  It was loud (ventilators running) and was near at the nurse's station; and a pooling point for nurses to exchange greetings and complaints.  They had given me Potassium, which burns like hell in an IV---- which I knew and told them beforehand, but, "OH No"   They knew what they were doing.  In about 2 minutes my hand was on fire and I was left with the needle removed, warm compresses on my hand.   THEN.
Came the "panic room" which is where they put people who go when their minds have  been too long restrained.  IT was very nice.  Wish I'd known long before because it was  large, huge shower, dressing area.  Be nice if all rooms were thus.  Instead they keep it for the "over the side of the ship" crew who were experiencing a meltdown.  

Finally, I left there and went (with grudges) to a local Nursing Home for a week.  That pleased everyone involved.  (I won't tell you what the hospital staff had to go thru in order to get me into the Nursing Home.  Right there, well I really had worked for a hospital before and I knew how unscrupulous they could be in any attempts to CTA (cover their ass).  This done in order to get the Nursing Home to accept me.  I knew I was a phony deal with them and the questions they asked me.  It was awful.

I do not know how I got off on that.  I mean the old scenarios can just clip, clip through a simple verse in time.   They always betray.  Which is where I am today.  TRUST is not of Human Origins.  We want it, need it, absolutely have to be secure in it and our intended partner for LIFE, whatever is left of it.  If people knew how badly, how often, how ripping it had all been...maybe they could understand a bit more why TRUST is the first step in a friendship, a courtship, etc.

We may be drawn in by lust, but if friendship can follow, then also may LOVE.  It is, however, not all in a single bound (no Superman feat), it is taken in the course of living, day to day, seeing how our chosen one lives his/her life.  Honesty can bleed out in a hurry, like clipping a major artery.  Only minutes until our body is dry.   Like everyone else I know (or don't know) I believe we want to love and be loved.  I am so much more a human being than I used to be.  The price of such is too much.  Either you two decide that what you have is the real thing.  You want to see the last sunrises and sunsets together.  To apply these principles of the living of Life and the sharing of LOVE, is a Journey that you must commit to, come hell or high water (and believe me, it will come to those types of major disasters and worse); therefore, where do you stand.?

In the living of your life does this individual add to the exuberance and creative fulfillment of your Spirit?  Will the two of  you together bring something to pass, that surpasses the single digit of your own styles?   Can you give and can you receive the horn of plenty of more than you even knew existed alone.  Yet, you must dwell on that, and be ready for strip search of your Soul.   For whosoever  joins in Love and Trust, Acceptance and will always and forever  find you turning first to each other when the crisis bell has rung --- so much the betterment of your Way, if you proceed in that Golden State of Mind, lay down your small thoughts and be raised by those thoughts that have seen this planet to it's present day.   Yes, there is much to smile about and feel good for, yet there is too,  a passageway, entangled and one sees the people behind all the sound.  All the Hope you have to promise lies FIRST in the Promise you made to one another, somewhere along the way.  And since this transaction is taking two accounts into consideration, then further cannot be  freed.   How does one man who is imprisoned behind high walls, from which all hideous sounds are taking apart the Beauty. Trust  and pleasures in common ground---how can they just pop off and leave no Soul from which we gather our own Journey's map.

I must leave now as my hands grow numb and tingly and my mind is starting to wistfully call upon the Dreams of another Dreamer.   Distrust and Jealousy are not to be bargained with.  They have only one pitch, one journey painfully pitched.   If one cannot make themselves happy, how can hope ever come close to that most preserved source of courage for all our Earth, we must be rebirthed.

In a name, in some Time, our Guides will bring forth a cradle for we two, who (without ceasing) will fulfill their responsibilities to the whole and to one another, they will know a Joy and a silver thimble with stretch and pull forth an opening, where all is peace and harmony, kindness, wisdom, care and touch.  If we want to do this thing, it can be done.  If the energy is not there, it will fall down past the mill, into the rushing waters of the  river Sublime; and we'll have lost once more the Passion waiting at our door.

~rumorsofme~