To slip into a shelter, free from radio frequency and human inconsistency, is what I wish when the thoughts start coming up fast. Scrambling to get first impressions down on paper, so they can graduate to tiny ideas, which will, in time, multiply and reveal the truth. It is tough to say what needs to be said above all the chirping and chatter. Static fills the void which once contained matter. Curved lines and image-dense clouds bob and weave above my spinning head. I let go as I slip into the shelter of my tireless mind.
Semi-Daily Scribbles
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After Johnny's wall went up, he needed a place to bury his secrets. The once sprawling, very public garden was now impenetrable after many hours of prison-building. But Johnny felt the isolation was well worth it. His mind was put to ease knowing no more tender sprouts would be plucked, pulled apart, and added to his father's collection of pressed memories. There was the matter, however, of being rid of the results on display in the parlor. Gilt frames and cloches contained the fruit of a botanist's labor. Johnny's father was nothing if not meticulous in cataloguing his specimens. For a brief moment, Johnny considered hurling the lot over the fence of his fortress. He realized this was no plan at all, and walked the 40 paces to the tool shed to grab a pick ax, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow. He entered the family cottage and tread with light steps upon the polished floor of the parlor. Johnny looked at the flattened and pinned prize under glass. The irises lost nothing of their violet-blue charm after so many seasons on the mantel. He picked up the enshrined sacrifice and began the task of carting away his worry. -
Shawna hated sitting at a desk for nine hours a day. Of course, she got up and moved about, but she had to be mindful of her legs taking over and walking her right out the front door…before the reports were even run!
On this particular day, the sun was beating a worrisome rhythm, and Shawna wheeled back from her desk. Reports would have to wait. The buzzing was growing louder all around her. She hoped it wouldn’t disturb her workmates. Shawna’s skin was vibrating and crackling. She alternated between heaviness and weightlessness. Her legs, ever eager to stretch, were attacked by the creepy crawly sensation of disuse. Shawna’s breathing became quick and shallow. She clawed at the flesh that was turning against her. Shawna realized a change was taking place, as she watched pieces of her old self break apart in her hands.
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The sentiment can't be manufactured. It may be analyzed, scrutinized, and turned into a greeting card platitude, but the wholeness one feels when we're in harmony with the universe is elemental. As natural as two long chains in our DNA, completeness of being happens while breathing. Ponder too long over perfection, and the point of our stay here is missed. Even as we draw our final breath, balance is maintained as we return to the dust of the cosmos. -
Sarah saw herself as dweller of the swift water and green glen. She studied mood and atmosphere from the moss covered trees. They filtered light; letting it drape, silky and shimmering, across rock and buttercup. She yearned to learn the trees' secret for spinning gold. Sarah needed many threads to elevate her status. The sky, made of memory, was what she was after, and could not be corrupted by foul airs. But the sky knew Sarah better than she knew herself, and administered the proper dose of knowledge when she least expected it. In these ecstatic moments, the other novitiates of the forest, heads bowed and knees bent, emerged to claim what the land promised the meekest among them. Nourishment for the trials that would strip them of their will, and grant them passage to the timeless plain. -
Zoë knew there was no place like home. Its foundation was built with love, and each story was dedicated to the protection and safety of this generation, and the next. Tucked back in the foothills of a forgotten forest, security cameras keeping an eye on the wildlife, there was no threat that could get past the gate locking the outside from coming in. There was, however, family. That was what made Zoë's choice so difficult. She didn't want harm to come to any member of the bloodline. The skills each of her kin possessed were found nowhere else on this plane. She needed every trick and weapon she could lay her hands on to keep the portals open. It was the only way help would come to her side when the bargaining began. Zoë was down to only one soul with which to barter, and she couldn't afford to make the wrong call. One of her dearly beloved was going to have to cash in. Zoë had given more than her share, but she could still give the order for one of her family to pass out of existence. The flame didn't care whose flesh was used to fuel its spread.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 