Fear resides on both sides, in the direct sun and in the borderless shadows; the light, however, competes with mine, so my soul still remains largely unexposed.
I unzip my skin behind the bushes and dip into the sea of all that I am and all that I have yet to be,
a flame underwater, inextinguishable, no longer chained to the illusion of drowning; I dive deeper in belief of my self and arise, wet and glowing.
In my new skin, a more comfortable fit, I swirl together the sun and shadows as I dance, and the flickering upon my upturned face reveals another transformation taking place within.
Fissures shift, the inner lifts, though I wish to keep it enclosed. Exposed to the elements becomes my soul. The tears rise and flow.
When the painquake subsides, there are less toxins inside. I suppose it is nature’s way of eliminating the accumulating waste, that which we bury in false deaths, that which we hide beneath the surface, a sort of protection and procrastination of that which we cannot bear in the moment to face.
Two-faced are we all. How are you? Good, thanks. Why do we ask that question in passing? Too often fake. How am I? Probably actually similar to how you are especially in the way that we guard the answer. Brief eye contact. Continue walking. If only we acknowledged anything. Hands on phones, hands of clocks. Bombs inside. Tick. Tock.
Fissures by nature are meant to be breaks. Down is mine. Again. No brakes.
Not a fall but an opening. An involuntary wound-seeping. Weeping.
My inner, risen now. What will you do with what’s come out?
Sunny and 70s this weekend in northwest Florida but with enough seasonal variety to get to experience some autumn colors alongside the re-flowering trees. I meant to go to the ocean but ended up staying in my yard. It’s just so quiet and peaceful here, and that’s really what I needed most this weekend, especially since our house guests are out of town. It’s late Sunday afternoon now; I’m still in my pajamas and still procrastinating starting my schoolwork…. maybe after this blog post on the patio…
I thought I’d let you into my head a bit, since there is never a dull moment there. 🙂 This morning as the sun rose and dried the raindrops from the leaves, I enjoyed some nature photography. In my backyard. 🙂
A friend recently asked what kind of camera I use. Ummmm, an outdated and malfunctioning iPhone (8) and whatever photo editing app it came with. My old Canon is no longer working, though I really do need to try harder to revive it. I’m not one to spend money, and I hate updates and changing what I’m familiar and comfortable with. My daughter has the pro gear (and newer phone), but I’ve yet to borrow or learn it. I have an inherited camera too I’ve been meaning to play with. So me and my on-its-last-leg iPhone out back this morning….
If you know anything about me, you know it would be the wildflowers and white flowers that would call to me the most. From inside, on my way to make morning coffee (after going back to sleep earlier since I woke with a headache), the familiar white wildflowers drew me out. I loved that they were still blooming and wanted to capture them against the autumn-leaves background. There is such pure and soulful beauty I find in white blossoms, so this was my main therapy after my emotionally-turbulent week. Ahhhh…
I find nature the most therapeutic for me when I focus on the details, the tinier the better. I suppose that makes sense. When I’m spiraling out of control from an emotional trigger that trips a mine from my traumatic, buried past, the one who knows me best (I’ve recently caught on to this..) tells me something very specific in our conversation, a unique detail. I tend to focus on it. I tend to forget the rest for a moment or two. It’s a grasp for me, something to hold onto. Sometimes, that’s all that’s needed to stop the free fall. I focus on the folds in petals, the almost-evaporated drops from last night’s (all-too-coincidentally-metaphoric) rain, the tiniest bright stars in the unfurled center. It centers me. Again.
This one entranced me the most, like a beautiful ballet, its story performed without words but deeply felt…
Then there’s simply the beauty of autumn’s bright leaves, which I do not take for granted living in the South.
In just about every subject I frame in my lens, I also find a story or lesson. I begin my autumn adventure with the nest in the nook of my eucalyptus tree. This tree is not the mother of these leaves, but then again, home is sometimes found, and families can be made outside of genes, and both of these can save a soul.
(Here is the eucalyptus’ biological offspring:)
Next, as tends to happen, I notice and go out of my way to admire and showcase the beauty in the imperfect. I chose this leaf to be the star today.
I’m sure the ones who were more “whole” and less “marred” were confused. Like with flowers and seashells, I find the most powerfully-moving stories in the subjects that many would overlook or toss back, reject. We are all imperfect, though; we all have our scars, and with each, a very personal story, usually untold. Yet how similar, I’m sure, our hidden fears and pains are. The light seems to find all of us equally though, as a saving, nonjudgmental love.
This leads me also to respect the shadows. This bright red evoked a somber mood. I paused a while to pay homage.
This next green leaf intrigued me so! Among the astonishing inner workings, a very distinct marking gave my imagination the lead in metaphorical hypotheses formation: an internal imaging picture revealing the disease or alien or parasite inside; a tattoo (and what does it symbolize?); a birthmark; a branding; an astrological sign? Victim, chosen savior, scarred warrior? Its emblem is seared into my mind’s eye.
Nearby, another attention capturer, the decay in such stark contrast to the green stem. A charred lung having always been fed plenty of oxygen. Self-asphyxiation? Leaving or returning to life? Maybe the later stages of the disease above? Open back up the valve to your heart! Choose to receive the love! (I told you there’s never a dull moment in my mind…)
In this next one, I find the bittersweet. The sun’s rays have found this one and are comfortingly drying the pool of tears. Such a tender and touching healing story, especially since the leaf has detached from its life source. Perhaps the rays are the forgiveness before death, all amends made before the soul leaves the body to be lifted. Is there anything left unspoken in your own heart today?…
Don’t worry, I’ve saved the most lighthearted for last! 🙂 Here we have the strawberry or the rose (shhhh…don’t let it hear you say its a leaf!). We can really be whatever we choose to be, can we not? This one made me smile. Now I could manipulate the leaves to create such a capture, but when I find it naturally so, it makes it so much better.
And there you have it: a glimpse of what it’s like to be in Laura’s head when far away in the nearness of nature. I’d like to stay lost forever. I don’t think I’d miss the world. Wherever I go though, I promise to always send you rays of light, reflected with my lenses. ❤
a work in progress perhaps no one should be for to simply be oneself should happen effortlessly it would seem
it’s work for me though to attempt to undo the disease seeds enemy-planted deep that choke the bloom
contaminating the roots robbing nutrients always pulling at upward movement
i grow my colors lift my face to the sun drink the falling waters offer pollen to everyone
yet i keep coming undone keep feeling invisible tugs
so i work to break free from that which i cannot see that has this grip on me
and little by little with each sinless absolution i sense each time another parasitical root is loosened
directly by my higher power and the words sinking in from finally believing my true-lover
feeling lighter is the way to the self i have begun to realize
to remove the shackles of the world and psyche to return the soul to the sky
Hilltop
It’s true, I’m blooming. I hope you can see: I am blossoming because your love has been seeded in me, and upward is the only direction I can go when these internal whispers of yours hush the world so ours are the only voices I hear when the storms return raging from those traumatic years. Time need not be turned back: unraveling these knots of old patterns, we’re perfecting with practice. I will do more than hold on for with your patience, I am remembering more quickly that this is the present, and I am nestled safely in the nearness of you upon the hillside with the endless view of anywhere I wish to go whilst bringing with me my found, forever home.
I suppose somewhere along the way, this became about me, this once person conditioned to inwardly mistreat, neglect, bury prematurely at sea,
too busy keeping them afloat in puddles, sacrificing my soul for others,
in the lows between lowers in that life unstable, vows before God to remain (abusive) spouse faithful,
the escape-clause contingencies blurred, repercussions lingering in the years after,
children ten years apart, and always children, I keep on giving, Silverstein tree down to the trunk, instead of remaining to be sat upon, I leave my roots to carry on,
re-sprouting from acorns and seeds to reach the end of land as a sunflower, brazen yet desperate, in the sand to be plucked by a youthful hand
and sprinkled into the surf for the mermaids to collect and bring to the site of where I left myself and resurrect
from Davy Jones’ Locker the Heart of the Sea still alive in its keeper: me.
The ducks and swans gather to greet at the pond where I used to weep.
Donned now in floral dresses and locks long enough to dance freely with the breeze, (he always said neither looked good on me…) the reflection I see is another plot twist in my ongoing story
with an ending yet to be written but full of God’s golden glory, His daughter’s strength ever-growing.
Somewhere along the way, somehow this did become about me. Another struggle lifted, another soulful healing.
In the setting sun, I reflect upon the journey and look so forward to the fulfilling of my legacy.
I will never drown, for you can only hold me down so long, years but moments in the eternity of dawn.
Hope unconditionally floats from the buoyancy of love.
This is my story, long overdue to be self-sung.
I actually do like to sing those soulful songs. (He always changed the station if I even began to hum…)
Rough week. Double red flags waving. The bay wilder than the ocean. It called me home. Here’s to the ones in the throes of it. Let’s relight ourselves. Again.
I give my light freely, but sometimes it is taken, emotional perpetrators breaching my innermost spaces.
They underestimated my strength and did again today,
for as long as there is the sea and my God, I will raise my arms in faith; you will never keep me down as long as there are waves and rays.
Laura Denise 