Tag Archives: love

Closing In

Friday, I had a somewhat frightening dream.

I was in a fictional building, amongst, I don’t know, soldiers. Maybe the setting was affected by the latest wrestling-themed episode of Supernatural.

Anyway, there was this boundary moving in, consuming everything in its path— like a wall closing in, but not a physical wall.  We could get out of its way, but we had to move fast, and climb (I grabbed on to someone’s legs; the chains attached to the ceiling were out of reach). A leader of some sort opened a passageway by hand. And then I woke up.

There was more leading up, but the memory of what happened before that interactive scene is too vague to recall… lost in its seemingly mechanical routine. But the latter part sort of reflects the feeling that my world is closing in on me, consuming me, silently.

There are so many ways at which my world is going dark, and it is kind of scary if you think about it. In spite of my actions, the lights go out around me. And literally— the two light fixtures in the kitchen no longer work; both of them. We’re using a plug-in lamp, currently burning an LED 60w replacement bulb because the halogen bulbs don’t last very long.

Some of what I get in life could go to the whole argument of expectations versus integrity as Togetherness the TV series conveys, that if you’re not all there and ready, you shouldn’t expect much. But this darkness I face is just absurd.

Nevertheless, I have to work on my health, mental and physical.
Continue reading Closing In


Something tells me you two should write more together.  Powerful results here.


Today I am very happy to host my closest friend Lizzi and her blog post on bullying.


I want to start your day with a poem we wrote several weeks back.  I saved it because I love the message and feel it represents a wonderfully compassionate attitude.  We all have moments when we need someone to LOVE US ANYWAY!


Written by Lizzi (considerer) and Hastywords

Bring me the storm clouds of your sky-strewn mind
Bring me the flotsam and jetsam the tsunami left behind
Bring me the dark corners you want nobody else to find
And let me love you

Bring me the tears that constantly flood you with fear
Bring me the consternation that makes logic less clear
Bring me the worries derailing you and allow me to steer
And let me love you

Bring me the screeching of voices which never cease
Bring me…

View original post 170 more words

Why Do Poets Write of Love

Poets write of love as writers would anything
The attempt to capture the profound in words

The difference though
love is universally profound
as is truth
a necessity
it drives us when we let it
as we make ourselves vulnerable to it

The pain
withstanding without breaking
The pull, desire
the essence or quality of being
In part because
we long
we miss
we are incomplete
until content.

(That is my attempt to answer the question…)

And as Audrey states: “Michael is fighting an illness that may take his life.”  Pray for him.

The Vision of Poets

Spring Beauty 2


The words upon the page before you are to be read at your own risk…
What is implied within them is left to the perceptions of the reader…
If you become engulfed enough within them to endure to its finality, I thank you.
Your comments will enlighten us all…

Why Do Poets Write of Love
Why do poets write of love?
Do poets possess an extraordinary
Amount of love within,
Requiring them to relinquish
The overflow onto a blank page,
In order to remain within the
Bounds of sanity?
Would withholding that anomalistic
Amount of love within oneself
Thrust the poet
Far beyond the borders
Of those who profess to be
Of normalcy?
Does writing of the touch
Of love upon someone’s heart,
Create love within itself?
It is most common of one
Who writes of love to also
Write of sadness…
Of sorrow…
Of lost hope…

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Cancer fucking sucks.

This Castaway reference resonates with me a bit.  The old normal no longer exists… My circumstances are different, of course, living in a virtual prison with virtually no love.

‘Devastating’ is the term I’d put on it—losing a loved one.  Recovery for some is never-ending.  And those who haven’t gone through such loss of life, with emotional and spiritual investment/attachment, can’t really understand what it’s like.

But at least Rishi is on the side of hope.

(Note: comments here are closed; visit this person’s post for your thoughts.)

Musings on a grief journey

Castaway is one of my favorite movies. It touched me deeply the first time I watched it so many years ago. It was probably much before I got married. Today I remembered I had the DVD in my collection and I watched it again as I had another of those lonely Sunday evenings to survive.

Maybe it’s my grief stricken mind but I’m amazed at the parallels. I feel so much like Chuck Noland – marooned on an island with no one in sight. Cancer entered our happy life like the plane crash in the movie. It destroyed everything that was precious to me and left me to live.

I cannot be grateful that I have my son but he can’t rescue me from this island of grief. I’m alone here day or night. I have begun to lose track of time. Sometimes I see a light in the distance…

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Follow Your Heart

It appears some people can just never be happy with what they have or what they’re offered.

But everything in life is temporal—all a matter of consent in the past, and you have to move on.

Each individual has his/her point of view, past, set of struggles, strengths and weaknesses.  And though it is applied differently (sometimes very differently), love, down to its guts is all the same.

I certainly fell in love with the concept of love.  And it’s a complete mess when you actually look at it—the things people do for it, and in the name of it.  But it’s everywhere.  It’s what bonds life together, and it can appear without apparent logic.  And it’s something within you too.

Sometimes, the mind is confused about it.  We never actually fall in love with other people.  We are attracted to objects, to congruencies, to pheromones, to concepts and the concepts of people, but we don’t completely fall in love with the dynamic of a constantly changing organism.

But we intertwine on spirit.  We bond with objects, such as a child holding on to a Teddy bear.  We bond with practices, as we strive to do a better job for achieving better results.  And sometimes we yearn to find our respective soul mate—the “one” we are always with in some way or another, completing our sentences, etc.

Living life anew separates us, but life allows us to grow.  Life allows us to make mistakes so that we can learn and graduate.

You will be challenged in matters of the heart.  You will lose parts of yourself that you may wish to have back.  And regardless of where you are or whom you’re with, the struggle to live will only get tougher.

There are set limits to life (at least with our genes).  Embracing materials will only promote a living with said materials.  (And your body cannot become an iPhone.)

Yeah, we all make mistakes, and we learn.  But how we learn is important too.  We can’t always tell our heads apart from our asses.  And we can’t always tell the mind apart from the heart in our actions.

I’ve had my share of struggles.  But the worst of them stemmed from the fact that I wasn’t living (or living properly).  It’s still painful, being physically trapped to this day, but I must hold on to the heart that I have, because love will take me to where I need to go.  It takes time and courage, and respect, but I have to trust my heart.  (And I should probably be sleeping as it’s taking me too long to edit this whole thing.)

Following what you love and loving what you do is not a trick, nor a “hack” (and I’m sick of the word “hack” being thrown around these days as if it’s cool; yeah, Creativity Hairballs, from The Daily Post).  No, it’s a necessity.

Why would you give up on what you love to do?  For money?  Money is but a figment of material, and it is gone before you know it.  Bliss?  Bliss is like sugar—you’re getting disease with that sweetness.  For a lower risk of pain?  I’m sorry, but pain is going to happen one way or another; if not now, then later.

Yes, some passions can get you killed.  And I mean, literally killed if history has taught us anything.  But even then, heartless mistakes are what led up to such aftermaths in the first place.

On the spiritual side of things, on that journey, there is love and there is life, and those two things are not always in the same boat.  You could be terminally ill and have the best of spirits.  You could be in the best of health and be a complete asshole.

Life is temporal, but love is forever.  Insecurities for bad reason(s) can only hold you back.

It’s okay to reflect on fears, but it’s destructive to give in to them.  There were times when I felt the world was falling apart.  But then I embraced one of my dreams, and a whole world opened up for me.  I found a muse, and began to write a fiction novel.  And I changed with it, as it challenged my fears and my ideals.  I learned a lot in a short amount of time, and I endure to keep that process working.

But sometimes it feels like what we have is not enough.  Maybe never enough.

It wasn’t enough for me to read a passage of text where Christ made a matter on living about a choice between living well or living long.  I couldn’t embrace that for some reason.  I know now that his answer did not apply to me directly, but to the person he was answering to.  Just another case in point where I’m an idiot, especially since Christ’s lesson is still valid, generally speaking.

But that spiritual fulfillment is a spiritual necessity.  And once the spirit has moved on, it’s gone.  We have to move forward, even if we choose to endure holding on to someone whom is dying.

You have to live your life.  You have to manage to grow.  You must be able to breathe and eat in a day.

Follow the love that’s there, either within or relative to you, and try not to get petty.  And try to put the platonic first.  Loving art does not mean humping paintings.

Okay, I’m done.

Thanks for enduring my post. 🙂

Love v. Fear

If I were limited to giving one piece of advice, it would be this:

Act on love, not fear.

Fear may work its way into the fabric of substance and identity.
But fear is always the slower, as it is spiritually lower.
It works as an indicator, to say, “something is wrong.”
But in action, fear misleads.

Giving in, fear turns to anger, hatred and despair.
Its stress causes damage.
Its distress causes things to fail.
But love lifts you up.

Love isn’t mere emotion; love is what bonds things in life.
Love is spiritual oneness.
Love is instantaneous when allowed to breathe free.
In action, love melts all the badness away.

Loving life responds with it.
Validating one’s existence, say, “you’re worth it.”
Without so much words.  With hugs, maybe.
While organisms need it, love itself asks nothing in return.

Love is trust.
Love takes you where you need to go.
While fear distorts, love always gives something on your behalf.
While fear machinates, love is immediately caring.

Love is the difference between a life fulfilled and a slow death.
Love isn’t always comfortable, but it is always warm.
Sometimes it amounts to a little death, a la petite mort.
On that note, it eventually leads to more love.

And more love, and more…
And when you feel it, you don’t want it to end.
While fear kills and can make you want to die…
Love makes you, me want to smile and cry.

Life is not cruel.

“In the midst of life, we are in death.”

We are such beings capable of recognizing our mortality.
And we have only so much time before we pass on, individually.
But life will always renew itself, up to the challenge.

Without the proper perspective, however, life can appear cruel.
The tragedies and the atrocities in life can get us down.
But life is not cruel.  It can be painful, and it can even seem impossible.
But not cruel, that I know.

We accept certain challenges of life early on, even prior to birth.
We are all here for our reasons, remembered or forgotten.
We all have terms on our mortality, our life.
Without agreement on those conditions we would not even be here.

We are all spiritual individuals in the practice of our own truth and suffrage.
The hardships of others’ are not yours, and yours not theirs.
Just as you do not have their responsibilities.
Just as you may not have the same rights, despite a “modern world.”

Just as you may not have the same love.
Real love, after all, is an instinct of care, not a matter of lust over an idea.
And as you may have experienced, all love comes with an eventual pain.
You will eventually be separated, and loved ones will die.

If we do get what we deserve in the end, then life can certainly not be cruel.
Just as there is so much damage you can do before the repercussions arrive.
And even then, how you are treated is, in part, on your terms of life.
(And some may be less specific than others.)

With mortality, death is as much a part of being human as life.
So I say to you: live, love and respect while you can.
And, again, don’t worry.  When all’s clear the light will always outshine the dark.

Post Scriptum: I got the top quote from Downton Abbey, Series 1.
Also, “accept certain challenges” and “get what (one) deserves,” are not, of course to be confused with “expressed permission.”  (No means no.)


Love: spiritual bonding, affection and care.
The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.

Indifference is when one falls prey to the dishonesty of irrelevance regarding another person.  Beside it: bigotry, the manner of which people and things are generalized and distorted in those generalizations — the evasion of education that subverts the process of understanding to instead welcome stereotyping.
Continue reading Heart

Niceness trap in north-east Texas

Love lifted me.

Bernie (Millennium Entertainment, 2012).  Rated R for language, and Bernie treating a corpse with make-up and superglue (for the eyelids) in an on-stage demonstration, and a frozen Shirley McLaine.
Jack Black plays a beloved assistant funeral director that added touches to funerals: casket compartments, additional crosses, hugs, singing, and with an extra cost, a release of dove(s).  An unusually nice character, Bernie Tiede tried to please everyone, but he made the mistake of getting sucked into massaging the ego of a spoiled, bitter old lady named Marjorie Nugent, whose family wanted nothing but her money.  Originally, it was his helping hand in giving her someone to travel with, to exotic places or just out-of-state.  But more and more, month after month, she became possessive, and treated him like a servant, to the point that his only escape was with her death.
She commanded him to practice use of an armadillo gun for the invading animals, alone, for the first time using this — or any — gun.  After more needlessly harsh words and an opportunity for a Mr. Hyde to come out, Bernie shot the 81-yr.-old in the back four times.  And after reacting to what he’d done, he preserved the body in a freezer.  The last person on Earth you’d think would do it confesses to police with raw emotion.
Matthew McConaughey plays the prosecuting district attorney.  During slow weeks he would spin a wheel on which crook he’d go after next, stating he’ll surely put them all away.  Now prosecuting an attention-getting murder case, he feeds the jury the message that the defendant was ‘of a different world,’ riding first class — not exactly by choice, and knowing the correct pronunciation of Les Misérables.  So you have the shock of the confession and the shock of the verdict.
Beside the main cast of characters, the Carthage town folk interviews are real.  You get perspectives from real people in the area, and four-letter words to go with some of those perspectives.  They know that most of these homicide cases are domestic; they know any shooting by a stranger in these parts are rare.  And to avoid having the serious subject matter envelop the entire film, humor was maintained.  In the sequence where one guy maps parts of Texas, a literal question mark was rendered for the most north-western part of the state when he drew a blank.
The original writer that covered the actual story teamed with director Richard Linklater (Dazed and Confused, School of Rock) for the screenplay.  Much like Bernie’s ability to liven up cadavers, Black was chosen in casting for his ability to liven up a part that’s ordinary and good at cooking but a bit effeminate.  McConaughey is from Texas, but he ended up sounding like…McConaughey with a Texan accent.  I found the film incomplete as either a documentary or as a comedy; it needs better punctuation.  Grade: B.