I have stumbled across a new passion: writing. It is proving to be insightful and rewarding.
I awaken each and every morning with a headache, a kind of throbbing at the top of the spinal column which migrates up and over to the temples from under my shoulder blades.
The lights are bright and the music is just noise. I’ll call it a distraction. Something new in my chest of treasures. Dim the lights, and turn down the music, please.
I’ll try to ignore the rest of the distractions which are many: the computer, the internet, the weather, the television, the phone, me, my spouse, my thoughts, and many other inner illusions and fears. This isn’t easy to do. Is it easy for you? Where do I begin? Where did you begin?
First I take something for the headache, then I’ll enjoy a hot cup of coffee. The coffee is especially strong a little bitter tasting, for sure.
Let’s see, I got up this morning about 10am and I’m feelin’ like a nap already and it’s only 1:30pm, but it’s raining and gloomy outside. I know what Eeyore would do.
I have music gently playing in the background and way too many lights on, but I like to have the light to chase away the gloomy, foggy blues. The ambiance is comforting and makes the house feel like a home.
I’m beginning to know what it feels like to grow old.
My thoughts gone stagnate, forgotten, gone stone cold.
Memories are quickly lost inside the bewilderment.
Time is gone as quickly as it was sent.
Was time sent? Do you know what I mean?
Time passes so slowly in this quarantine.
This time sent has not been good to me.
Has it been good for you?
I thought it had been good for me in regards to getting a lot written.
Not even between the lines does the underlying meaning of my words reflect all I saw. Perhaps I’ve had too much time to reflect.
I can’t seem to find my bearings or my balance.
Is it all hidden away in heritage where it is nothing but defiance?
The words I write reflect my conscience like a mirrored pond and it’s beautiful, it really is. But the ripples send out vibrations of uncertainty.
Don’t be mystified by any of it, don’t fall for it, it’s a trap.
And as it’s set in time, confusion will entangle the mind with indecision.
So the words I write reflect a defiant heritage. I saw it all.
I saw the rebellion, I saw the defiance.
I saw the disobedience.
I saw the insubordination, resistance, and disregard for authority.
I was just a child when I saw it.
I saw it and could do nothing about it.
I saw it and understood it. Why didn’t they?
I didn’t understand why they couldn’t see it.
I didn’t understand why they didn’t see where they err’d.
They didn’t see it at all.
I almost felt sorry for them but it was their choice.
Their course was random.
They were wandering.
They had no path to follow.
No reference of knowing, no reference of knowledge.
Why did they fall away?
Why did I?
History certainly does repeat itself.
Is this why I seem lost?
I have no chartered course.
No sense of direction.
Is this life even real?
Where does time fit in now?
Time passes through an hour glass as sand.
Time will not stay in the palm of my hand.
Time keeps me anxious, time is elusive, time reoccurs.
Will time ever release me?
Do angels encounter time?
Is there time in heaven?
There must be, because there is music in heaven.
Music requires a beat, music never skips a beat, music can not be still.
Where was that scared little child back then?
Where did she hide?
What did she do to calm herself, her fears?
Did she say a prayer?
Do you pray about things you can’t think of because your mind is so tired and confused it doesn’t know what to say or ask for? Do you recite sayings and affirmations to reaffirm your self worth? Shouldn’t you know your self worth? Isn’t Christ apart your inner self worth? It’s all overwhelming, isn’t it?
And what’s with this irritability? Oh my goodness, it’s awful. My anxiety and irritability are off the charts! Where is it coming from?! Who sent it to befuddle me? I don’t want to participate in life when I’m feeling like this. It’s like: “No thank you, not today.”
So instead, I will eat stale cookies to go with my afternoon coffee. At least the coffee’s good. At this time of day it has to be half decaf, with still a little lead in there to keep the mind reverberating.
So where do we stand with the anxiety?
Where do we send the anxiety?
What do we do to calm our anxiety?
I’ll look all around for relief. I’ll search the heavens. I’ll search the rain drenched streets. I’ll seek the angels to release me and relieve the strain and pain.
I’ll even give back all that is not mine and send it back with love Divine!
I’ll ask for guidance and strength at each cross road and even before.
The stars know. Sometimes, even ‘I’ know.
When my brain seems empty lacking the proper words and alignment, I’ll survive in my own mind. I’ll own my own mind. I’ll open my mind. I’ll search the threads inside my mind. I’ll even search my heart as my mind finds the words I weave and write. And yes, they’re there, they’re just out of reach, tantalizing me. And they’ll compliment one another when I arrange them in the proper order.
As my mind finds the words I search for they will give life to ideas deep within. My words will ever flow. My words will always live. My words will give life. Words flow ever again for soon they breathe life to become life!
© 2020 Laurie S Novak
Laurie S Novak (author) from Michigan on October 25, 2020:
Thank you, Dora for coming by and reading my rambling muses! I find you to be a faithful commenter. I appreciate hearing from you. Hugs!
Dora Weithers from The Caribbean on October 23, 2020:
I can relate to some of the issues you raised. Your rhetorical questions make us think deeply; and sometime just thinking, even without answering the question is a helpful exercise. Thank you.