Shades of Grey

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 Life is life, and death is life, and everything in between. ~Terri Guillemets

Its all about the shades in between.  Nothing is completely black and white.  We draw the lines in black and the areas around are white but there is always shades of grey that connect the two and in the world of sketching where one tries to portray what they see, it is all about knowing what not to fill in and what to accentuate.

Then there are the tools that help us do this.  The pencils of life that fill the page, and the erasers that help when there is a mistake.  One line connecting to the next in form to complete a picture for all to see.   So how we depict the artistry and what the world ends up seeing is ultimately at the end of our own pencils edge.
 Hold it how you will.


Linking with Imaginary Gardens "Tuesday Platform".

When Zombies Speak

pic from Google Images

Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask.

 ~X-Files

Sometimes there are things we go through in this life that roar like monsters, but in our struggle through the abyss of day to day living they seem to whisper like a shy child.  We become blinded and unaware of the battle within our hands. So we keep stumbling forward unaware of the danger of complacency that lurks around every corner of our lives.

It has been a while now, but I had a dream one night that I felt spoke to me loud and clear about boundaries and responsibilities.  I cannot recall all the details of the dream now, since I have waited so long to document it, but the gut of the meaning behind it is still fresh like a wound that needs tending.  So I will do my best to reveal it here.

As you may be expecting there were zombies in my dream.  Like I have said before, my dreams have many times been stressful if not borderline nightmares, and this one was no different.    I regret now, that I have waited so long to re-tell the dream, because my memory of it has faded greatly, but I do remember the message I got from it. 

I was dealing with zombies all around.  I don't recall the actual plot of what was going on, except there was blood, gore, stress and chaos at every corner.  I was trying to handle the situation.  Taking care of what was right before me, and then it happened; a zombie spoke to me.

A zombie's head was completely off and on the ground.  Yes, I know, kill the brain= kill the zombie, but this is a dream not "zombies 101".  Anyway something in the dream told me to pick up the head.  I wanted to resist, but my pride would not let me.  I had to prove I was brave enough to do it, but as I reached down to pick it up a voice spoke and urgently said, "DON'T that's NOT your head. I CAN pick up my own, you can pick up YOURS!" That is where I woke up.

I realized that I have been futilely trying to pick up the zombie heads in my life.  (All the troubles of those around me that I am not able to fix.)  I could no more replace their heads than buy a Mercedes Benz or solve world peace, but somehow I keep trying anyway.  It is like the bible verse in Matthew 7:5, "Though hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye." 

I suppose there are all kinds of ways we get messages in life.  People around us, the bible, situations that we face, and zombies in our dreams. The only trick is, we have to be willing to truly listen.

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "The Tuesday Platform"

Hi beautiful Toads! :-)

The Echo of Silence

The Mag #258

Also linking with Poetry Jam for the prompt "Silence".



Silence is a text easy to misread.  ~A.A. Attanasio

Ignorance is a dark hall that seems to have no doors.
Where wisdom has no voice that fools can soon ignore.
And truth can be a luxury when it is nowhere to be found
as secrets can deceive like lies when they do abound.
For the truth holds a certain power like a shelter in the rain
and when it is abandoned it leaves one vulnerable to more pain.




When I was around 4 years old we had a gold fish that lived in a bowl on top of our console television.  One day I was left in the house alone while the family was doing some yard work.  I got the wonderful idea to feed the fish.  Everyone else was doing something productive and I wanted to do something to.  So I decided to get the little shaker bottle of fish food and make myself useful.  Once I started pouring it seemed that more would be better than less, after all, it was probably very hungry.  The rest of the story speaks for itself.  You know the outcome.  Too much dinner for fish is a certain death indeed.  A few hours later I heard the sad gasp of my mother as she discovered the fish floating on the top of the water.  At the time I did not realize what I had actually done.  It was not until I was older that I put two and two together.  You see, ignorance is not always kind.  At least not for the poor gold fish in a fish bowl.  Not knowing what I had done, was less painful for me at 4 years old, but if someone had shown me how to feed them and why, maybe little Goldie would have lived a longer life.  The echo of silence tends to be a sad sound indeed.

True Testament

Emergence: Surreal Oil Painting by J. J. Long

Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold. ~Leo Tolstoy

Any man can tell the story of what he has learned upon his way and those around him will listen, but it is the account shared by the one that has emerged from the grips of the agony of life's hardest obstacles, faced their demons eye to eye and risen from the depths of deep despair that have a voice that reaches more than just ears.  They speak through the creaking of steps taken on the hardest of floors.  It is that sound that our soul  hears, and then hearkening begins.  It is the echo of sound that reoccurs from this that proves to me the miracles that are born from adversity.  For it seems that it is the evidence of recovery that comes from true redemption that reveals the greatest miracles of all.


Linking with Imaginary Gardens and "The Tuesday Platform".



 

Butterflies and Land Mines

The Mag #255

Reason is our soul’s left hand, Faith her right. ~John Donne

Faith is a white horse that must run in the black of night
and the soul is the rider that must hold on with no reins in sight.
It is a treacherous journey that requires a lot of guts.
The kind that walks through land mines with eyes completely shut.
 So let go of your logistics and reach out for something true.
A credence that is mightier than any scientific proof.
For genuine conviction is a force that moves through hardy walls
and the voice that drives it onward has an ever gentle call.
 You see the cement of the soul is full of both tenderness and might.
For faith is a true force yet enigma like butterflies and land mines.
 

Recovery

Google Images




At the bottom is always the best soil to sow and grow something new again.

In that sense, hitting (rock) bottom, while extremely painful, is also the perfect sowing ground.

That being said, before we can begin to grow, we must first realize that we are bogged down. (Step 1)

WJM

My arms have grown weary and my back is all worn.

My insides are crumbling and my outside is torn.
Life is a journey that requires some might
and rest becomes a luxury instead of a right.
So now I am in need of major repair.
God's needle and thread with love, hope, and care.




This was originally written for
 Poetry Jam for the "One Word" prompt.
My word is:
Recover
Unfortunately I did not make it in time, so I am sharing it with Poet's United's Poetry Pantry #236



  Being the mother of a recovering addict alcoholic has made the last few years of my life rough in more ways than just a worn out arm chair.. I am blessed to be able to say that his ultimate rock bottom was 6 months ago, and the journey since then has been the beginning of rehabilitation for a road full of wreckage that once seemed beyond repair.  It is hard to have to admit, but my own dysfunction inhibited his recovery for a very long time.  My need to smooth the gravel path prolonged his stay on a road of destruction, and that is a sad truth that I must never forget.  The fact of the matter is, recovery is not just for alcoholics and addicts, it is for anyone who has been born upon this earth.  If you have lived then you have felt something and been touched by the wares of life.  It is impossible to feel and not at some point get hurt in some way, and if you have been hurt, then you are in need of recovery. 
Like a worn out chair that has been sat on again and again, we all eventually need some mending.  Fortunately there are many avenues of help out there.  Many churches and support centers have groups that meet and provide a great help to those who are ready and willing for a change.  There is "Celebrate Recovery" a Christ based approach to recovery that was a response to twelve step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous.  "Overcomers Outreach" is another great support group founded on the twelve steps and the scriptures as well.  No matter what place you might find yourself in this life, there is help and support out there.  You just have to want it bad enough to have the courage to reach out for true help and start mending your life.

Google Images

"Let your hopes, not your hurts shape your future."

~Robert Schuller



I Should Have Listened To My Mother

 Google Images

"The past can't see you, but the future is listening." ~Terri Guillemets

Pearls of Wisdom

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In diving to the bottom of pleasure we bring up more gravel than pearls. ~Honore de Balzac

Like Broken Glass

"Pain is pain, hurt is hurt, fear is fear, anger is anger, and it has no color."  ~Iyania Vanzant

There is a saying in recovery, "hurt people hurt people".  I used to think I understood what it truly meant and felt that I did not apply to it in any way.  I always considered those around me and their feelings in all my actions, but it seems that I have been mistaken.

It has been over a year now since I went through my last divorce.  It was my second unsuccessful marriage, and it was in my actions after that time that this truth become clear to me like a freshly cleaned window.

There are all kinds of ways we can hurt people in this life.  It is not just done directly by a gun, blunt object, or the tongue.  We can inflict all kinds of damage to others just by the choices we make for ourselves.  The man a woman chooses to marry, if he is not a man of integrity and kindness, can possibly down the road be an abusive father, or simply a poor example of what a man is supposed to be.  This is not a direct act of blatant hurt or premeditated infliction, but it still has its effect on others in the long run. 

 That being said, it is easier to realize that there are ways in my life I might have inflicted pain and suffering upon another.  

My point of greatest weakness is in my relationships.  My choice in men has left others to ponder my very sanity, and question my judgment deeply.  It is almost like a scarlet letter than I have placed with my own hands upon my brow. For others to witness.  I am drawn to a broken man like a river is drawn to the sea.  Is it because I want to fix someone or repair what’s broken?  Maybe, I only know that when faced with a room of choices I will always gravitate to the ones that others would avoid. 

When I started dating again after my last divorce I talked to a couple of nice men and then decided to join a dating site.  Needless to say, a person with my kind of issues should never join a dating site.  It is like putting a heroin addict in a room full of needles; or a child loose in a china shop. Not a good idea all the way around.

In the course of trying to find the perfect man for me, I found myself dating the most broken ones.  I cannot completely explain it, but that is only part of the problem I created.  As certain dates did not work out, or did not meet my need to be utterly needed, I would immediately latch onto the next prospect like a spider grabbing its prey.  Poor unsuspecting men, who simply wanted to meet someone to love, would be trampled upon like they were in the middle of a stampede, as I scurried over to my next prospect of a mate. 

Unfortunately, I left behind a trail of destruction in my wake.  I will probably never know just how far and wide, but I am certain it is there, and I am its culprit.  Now in hindsight I can look back and see it more clearly.  I can view the wreckage for what it is; a broken person hurting other broken people as they pass in life, like a frantic hand reaching through the broken glass. 

I am now settled into a new relationship.  To someone that I met on the date site.  A man that captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on him.  Our desperate need to be loved and needed makes us both the perfect pair and not.  It is kind of like science experiment that is both amazing to watch, but can be a disaster when it explodes over the flask.  He is a beautiful hearted man, who has made choices in life that have sent him trailing down a harder road than most, and in so many ways so have I.

I guess one could say based on my last paragraph that I have not learned anything from my past mistakes, but to that statement I would disagree.  It may appear that way, but I believe that some changes do not happen fast.  Some things move slow like an old man without his cane.  I may still be in a relationship with a broken person with a past, and I may be frazzled and broken myself, but like a window that has been repaired with new glass, I can see what is before me.  There was a time when I was wandering blindly to this truth.  

Life is like that; a journey of different measured cobbled stone steps that take a while to make.  I may not be where I need to be today, but I am not where I was yesterday, and that is a progress, be it slow as it is.  The truth is, I am a work in progress, and I may still fall along the way, but I am learning a little here and there as I take each step forward.  I may have lingered in the place some would caution to leave, but I also am aware of the cause and effect of my actions and this is a clarity that in the past was utterly broken.  Now it is in the process of a careful and slow repair.

Yes, hurt people hurt people, but those in the process of recovery can reveal healing in their life, that can also give hope to another on their path, and that is where the miracle of recovery begins.

Linking with Poetry Jam for Mary's prompt "Broken".

The photo above was obtained from Google Images.

To Comfort the Soul

The Mag #243

"Truth isn't always beauty, but the hunger for it is."

~ Nadine Gordiner

I have always longed for a great love
 to comfort my soul.
 One that would nourish
 every need inside and out.
 Inspire the best and with grace
 make the worst disappear.
  A devotion that would
 cradle like a soft crocheted sock
 and protect my very stance
 from the greatest of stumbling.
 Yet, in my search what I have truly found is

 that the only one that can fulfill
 these needs within my soul is God,
and in my foolishness I reach out to man,
again and again at no avail.
It is in the hard fall
that I find the comfort of God.