Be Our Own

There's so much debating between right and wrong and truth and lies.
There's so many arguments and pointed fingers.
There's people claiming they know and you don't understand.
There's people supposing your actions and choices make you wrong.
There's people wishing to make you into their idea of what is right.
There's a war against personal beliefs, opinions, and speaking our minds.
There's well spoken people making valid points and swaying people to feel differently than what they ever wanted to.
There's people who think they know exactly how it really is.
In the midst of all this, it is hard to find a steady ground beneath your feet when pulled to and fro, most often by those whose opinions, beliefs, and choices you value.
In the midst of the confusion you're left trying to take all sides and find all common ground and you wish to say that "all are right" or "all are true" when this cannot be so if you are to remain on someone's "side".
In the midst of this pressure to choose, to know, to feel, think, perceive and stand for, you do not know which is right for you.
Sometimes, you have to step back.
Sometimes, you have to stop and listen to your beating heart and find out what that sound means to you.
Sometimes, you have to forget what everyone says around you and listen to your own soul - and when you listen, and feel, then you know what it is that you stand for, believe, know, understand and hold onto.
That becomes your right.
That becomes your truth.
That becomes your reason for holding up the light of your own knowledge.
This feeling, it cannot be taken from you when firmly founded in the depths of your soul.
This feeling should be guarded and treasured and recalled often.
This feeling is what gets you through the arguments, debates, and confusions which abound around you.
This feeling is the rock you stand on no matter what comes your way.
Why?
Because we were born with the ability to have our own convictions.
Because we have the right to learn our own truth.
Because we were born to seek after knowledge, the knowledge right for us, for how we live and how we cope with the world.
Because we have the right to have opinions separate from those we love.
Because it's OK for us to be our own.

Liars and Lies

Liars can be gentle with lies done from love and kindness, but also there are liars of malice and wickedness. Some hold their tongues and don't say a thing in hopes you won't ask them for what they're hiding. Others will look you dead straight in the eye and come up with an impressive and destructive lie. It's not outright lying that is worrisome, it's witheld truth that becomes the thorn of your heart. It's not asking the right question and getting a lie that is the problem, but asking the wrong question from the start. It's not knowing they lie that bothers you, but why they are withholding what's true. Yet they'll lead you on and lead you astray and make you think it is all some other way, until come a time when they can no longer hide and yet still their words will take you for a ride. They think they are clever in their devious deeds and they plant all their stories and fabricating seeds, and when you should notice things "just not quite right", well then you should ask, and be so polite. Their response might be stammers, or shudders, or shakes, it might be justifiying, yet whatever it takes, they'll think they're the right ones and you are the wrong, for you had asked them what you should have known all along. Yes, "you" are the fool, why didn't you see it? They are not wrong for keeping their secret. So, you will stand there and question it all and they'll go on elsewhere to some other call and you'll wonder who else lies to you and how you will learn exactly what's true. It's all the witholding of truth going on that reminds you the errors of the world all along. They think in their silence they can get away with it all, but their actions and pictures are their real downfall. They think in their lying you can't see what's there, but they act out their falsehoods without any care. The proof is in watching, not hearing nor asking, and then you shall learn all that is true.

2011

I feel the need to reflect upon 2011. Of all my years, I suppose this year is the year I have learned the most. It started off with me needing to make a new start and trust in something called "hope", and I think I had to learn what "hope" was throughout the whole year. I had to learn what "trust" meant, and above all, "faith". It has been the most physically taxing of all years.
Starting in January, I began to learn "hope" and "change". I started off with a "I will do what I want to do" attitude. I survived being snowed in and packing for days on end. I survived the cold.
February, it dawned with yet more hope and cold and snow. And packing. I moved out of my parents home and into one with AJ at the end of February, and slowly he and I moved stuff over, so that come March we were settled.
It was odd in the beginning. He would play music to fill the silence. I loved the silence. Slowly, we settled in. The first part of being here was rough for me. I had the worst kidney stone I'd ever had, then, pulled the muscle in my lower back and had sciatic nerve problems that left me in the worst pain of my life. I passed out from it. Took pain meds. Wrote really odd poems.
I realized at the beginning of being on my own what I felt like I deserved from those around me. I felt as though I deserved better than being belittled or put down, mocked, or used. It was a learning experience for me. It, at times, upset those around me and caused issues with friends.
Having roommates at such a tumultuous time of moving my family was bad timing. I pretty much think all my ex-roommates hate me. Everyone of them. Maybe they don't. I know I was difficult to live with. I have far too many rules, quirks, and OCD moments. I hate noise. I hate messes. I need the rent money right away. I am very safety conscious. All of those things coupled with the stress of losing my childhood home made me hard to bare.
Spring break was a good time for me. It reminded me who I am. I think I learned a lot during late spring, early summer. I painted a lot, and had a lot of alone time to contemplate. I learned new things about those I love. I learned what "love" is. I thought I knew. I learned new levels.
My summer was spent never really dressed like a girl. I was always dressed for painting or packing. I didn't really care about my appearance. It was both freeing and slightly sad. If it wasn't for men who are "really" men, I'd never have felt much like a woman at any part during the summer.
I learned I hate clubbing. I am not much for cooking when I'm not happy. I really just like sitting in my recliner with my cat when things are too stressful. I learned walks fix a lot of troubles. So do massages. "Letting go" of things helps, too. I learned I love yoga. I love nutella. I love things I shouldn't love and things I should and I'm OK with both.
This summer, I survived heat exhaustion. I had fits. I had break downs. I cussed people out and had meltdowns. I threw things and threatened people. I also lifted far more than I ever thought I could. I lasted longer, stayed awake for days, slept maybe 3 hours a day for weeks. I ran on pure adrenalin. I noticed things about the world I wouldn't have. I survived August.
This summer, I learned who loves my family. I had friends who worked into the late night in the dark when they didn't have to. Friends who could have spent their brief time not working doing something fun instead of helping us. Friends who would get off work and help anyway. Friends who stayed so late each night I'm not sure how they functioned. Friends who surprised me. We had so much help, and for that, I am forever grateful.
As the year went on I learned to let go. To trust in God. To give it all up to him. I didn't think a lot of things would happen but trusted that He'd take care of it, and He did.
I learned as the year went on that I'll do what it takes to keep what I have. I'm a fighter, if I want to keep it, I'm fighting for it.
I learned to let things toxic to me go. It made me really sad at times, but sometimes you have to. I learned to love people despite themselves.
I had to learn to let a lot go.
I walked a lot. I ran in the rain with AJ. I gave second, third, fourth and fifth chances.
I took chances.
I learned to say "I love you" freely. This year, of any year ever, I can say wholeheartedly that if I meant it, I said it. If I needed to say it, I did.
I had fun. I had great times. I have great memories amidst the chaos.
Waving goodbye to AJ as he set off for his mission. Goodness. And all the times leading up to him going. He baptizing us in the temple. He speaking and bearing his testimony in church beforehand. The last two weeks being able to be with him just he and I in the house. I helped get him ready. And now, being alone, I learn even more about myself.
This year, I have added and added layers to the love I have for certain people. I have learned to love with a love that isn't so "needy". I don't feel the need to capture what I love. I have learned the value of friends whom I can trust.
This year I learned the true nature of people. It was hard at times. So much secrecy and betrayal. Lies. So many lies this year. Worst of all, most of it I learned at the latter part of the year.
I learned more forgiveness and just not caring. I think I've gotten to the point I really just don't care about a lot of people and their actions. I wish them no ill will, I just don't care.
I learned this year that even with the unthinkable, when you really love someone, it doesn't matter. You still love them.
I also learned that you can't force something that isn't there. So, consequently, I had to learn to voice that fact. I know I caused sorrow. But, I needed to speak truth.
I think I always speak truth.
Overall, this has been a year of self discovery. A year where I realized why I do what I do and hold to what I hold to, why I feel and react as I do and why I seek after what I seek. I learned what I really want in a man, a life, a future, and from myself.
I talked to the trees, the wind, the spirits, the walls; I wrote and sang and danced and meditated; I loved and flirted and tried new things; I battled, fought, won, lost, fell, soared, cried, screamed, laughed, prayed and prayed and prayed; I conquered fears and tested limits; I learned new things to help in my future; I rang in the new and did away with the old.
For 2012 I have only one resolution: To above all, follow my heart. It has led me to where I am right now. If I follow my heart and trust in God then I know I'll make it through. This new year will be unlike any before it. I am without one of my greatest friends while he is on the greatest adventure of his life; I'm going to be in a new place and learning new things; I hope for a lot of things.
I always hope.
I just learned this year you can't make happen what isn't meant to be.
You can't force what isn't there.
You can't help those who don't wish for help.
You can't mend or fix everything.
You can't hold onto those wishing to fly away.
You can only keep going.
For 2012 I will do just that. I will keep going and follow my heart to where it leads.

Expectations

I think expectations, though important, can be one of the worst things to have. We often expect not only far more than what people can give, but usually something entirely different than what they were destined to be.
We see in them something they will never seek to be, something they will never reach out to become....we set the bar high, yes, but in the wrong place for them.
We often expect from others what we feel we would do if we lived their life or went through what they had been through, and we deduce from their experiences what should be their next goals. Thus, we are expecting a result from them that perhaps they were never meant to give.
So, we become disappointed when they don't live up to our expectations.
If I am friends with a tree and I expect that this tree will grow forever beside me, I would become disappointed when it is cut down to become a Hope Chest for a young woman longing for a husband. I had not foreseen such a thing, my expectation of the tree's life was different than its destiny, so I become hurt.
You see?
We can want the best for others, but it isn't up to us to decide where they go.

Jack & Jill

Jill came home late that night. It had been the best of days for her. Jack's smile kept a giddy feeling in her heart as she sang while washing up. She'd never met such an amusing boy. His character was truly that of someone filled with joy.
After all her troubles and woes, she never knew she could smile so much being so near the graves.
Unknown to Jill, Jack went home where his mother blamed him for the missing firewood. She blamed him for the unswept floors and blamed him for his sister's cold. She threatened him with all sorts of punishments while he tirelessly worked through the night to catch up on his chores.
The following day began much as the previous, but by noon he went up the hill again, and sure enough, Jill was sitting there, parchment in hand, scribbling away furiously.
Jack was amazed that she could write.
Jill would tell him stories and he'd offer helpful adventures for her characters, and together they would laugh, and her laugh filled a place in him, and his laugh set her free.
Months went on like this and soon the nights grew cooler and the chill in the air made sitting on the hill hard to do, so Jack suggested they go down to the field and light a small fire.
Jill was elated at such an idea, for she wanted very much to sit with Jack by the fire. She wanted to warm her chilled hands and watch the flames dance for them. She wanted the feeling to seep all the way through into her soul.
Jack busied himself with making a small and efficient fire, for he was good at such things, and he and Jill sat around the flames and warmed their hands and feet.
She laughed often at his riddles and she shared stories of phantoms and boggarts and will o'the wisps.
That night, when Jill arrived home, she had the happiest of feelings in her breast. Her body could scarcely contain her glee. However, Jack got a good beating, no dinner, and another sleepless night. He'd been silently suffering for months, but didn't want to see the happiness fade from Jill's eyes. Poor Jill had lost her mother and siblings, and her father was away often hunting, so for her, there was little joy in her life aside from what he could provide for her. He loved her smile.
On the day of the first big snow, Jack took a long sliver of bark to the top of the hill and set it down with a look of mischief, "Want to ride this down the hill with me, Jill?"
     "Oh Jack, that looks dangerous!"
     "No, it will be fine. I have rope here, we can tie it on and hold on this way." He instructed her on what to do and she smiled with joy.
     Jill grabbed a small pointed piece of bark that's shape reminded her of a crown and held it up to his forehead, "Look Jack, you shall be the King, and I your Queen. We are the Winter King and Queen, and this shall be our sleigh. We shall ride off to feed the poor children and save the elderly from frost!"
     Jack laughed and agreed and with one hand held onto the ropes, and with the other held to his crown, and together he and Jill gave a push off, and down, down, down they went until the bark slid from beneath them. Their laughter followed them down the hill as they rolled into each other in a fit of giggles.
     "Oh Jack, your crown is broken! What shall we do, King Jack?" She asked.
     Jack rolled over and grabbed her hand, "I've no need of a crown as long as I have my Queen."
Many months would pass as these two played and learned and grew, but as they grew, Jill's stories called to her more and more, and her need to write them became overwhelming.
Jack often found her in the woods now, hidden near the rocks, writing away on any scrap of parchment she could find, until at length she began writing on the rocks themselves.
Jack became strong and many a girl fancied his attentions, and on Harvest Day the year he turned fifteen, he met Mary by the bales of hay. Her sunny eyes and alluring glances drew him closer. She taunted him in ways no one had ever done, and soon he learned the ways of love amongst the hay and her honey hair.
Mary went with Jack everywhere, and soon told all the town how she would marry him. Jack was still shy, but he sure did enjoy Mary.
The forest became the only solace for Jill when her father took ill. Her trees, her rocks, her words; this became her home. She came out for a town feast just before the weather turned dreadfully cold and saw Jack with his honey haired shadow. Miss Mary seemed rather pleased with her attentions and Jill looked down at her drab skirts and felt homely.
She turned to leave, but Billy stopped her with his hand on her shoulder, "Jill, I hear you're writing stories in the forest. Think you could show me sometime? My aunt is teaching me to read, see she's been in London, and wants me to learn such things. May I come and try?"
     Jill only nodded and quickly ran away from Billy and his kindness, but her running would only be for the night, for soon Billy would be coming every day to her woods, and soon every day would turn into all winter and spring, and by summer his kisses had filled her stories, too, and he read them back to her and would blush.
Together they made for a shy couple, but she no longer only spent her days in the forest, for now she spent them with him and his family, too.
On the Eve of the Festival of Fires, Jill came early to the fields to make hers and struggled with starting it. She sat dejectedly by the sad little pile of unlit sticks until a shadow appeared above her. She glanced up to find Jack, "Oh....Jack."
     "Jill, you're doing it wrong, here, let me show you." Jack helped her start a small efficient fire, and showed her the best way to place the logs.
     "Thank you, Jack."
     "Good to see you, Jill."
Soon, the field was full of couples lighting fires, and Mary called Jack away and Billy called Jill away, and the little fire burned still.
Jack and Mary made a large fire as Mary threw lovers herbs upon the flames and flowers and dried bushes and a whole barrel of things she had set aside to use for homage to the Goddess. Their fire burned scorching and tall and smoke rose clear up to the moon.
Billy made a brilliant fire and set the sticks standing tall so the flames would curl upward. Jill placed a few things here and there on the flames and Billy added hay and logs and all manner of things he'd been saving, until their fire burned bright and hot.
By dawn, the fires had burned themselves out, and Jill was tired, and wished to leave. Billy wished to make love in the forest to finish their celebrations, and Jill declined, wishing to save such things for their nuptial night. Billy was angry and hurt and stormed away kicking the remnants of their fire. He left Jill feeling worthless and unwanted and she knelt in the cold grass missing her mother.
Mary and Jack had long since escaped to the woods where Mary used her wiles and left him breathless, only to announce as the first rays of the sun were seen that she could not love him nor marry him after all. She told him she was to marry a merchant's son in a town closer to the coast, and therefore must leave him now. Jack's heart broke and he begged her to stay, but Mary left him where he cried bitterly until anger overcame him and he marched back to the field to throw dirt over their fire.
Then, he saw Jill.
She was hunched over near a small bit of smoke still rising steadily upward. He came closer and sat down and instinctively put his arm around her shoulders, "What happened, Jill?"
     She wiped her eyes, "Billy left. Said he wanted to have me, but I want to save myself, and he just left....left."
     "Don't cry, Jill. Mary left me, too. After she had me, that is. Left for another man."
     "Oh Jack, poor dear!" She threw her arms about his neck and his encircled her frame, and they stayed that way until she sat back and looked at him with a long look he didn't understand.
     "Jack, you see how everyone's fires have burnt out?"
     Jack looked around, "All but this one."
     "Do you know who's fire this is?"
     "Yours and Billy's?"
     Jill shook her head and warmed her hands by the warmth as she responded, "This is our fire. It's still burning."
     "That's because I know how to build a good fire, Jill."
     Jill just smiled, "That's right, Jack, you do. Would you like to learn how to read?"
     Jack smiled, "I'd like that a lot, you can teach me?"
     "I'm a good teacher."
     Jack gave a mischievous grin, "I can teach you a few things, too, Jill."
     She laughed, "Only if," she reached down and grabbed a blade of grass she began weaving with other blades, until at last, she had a wreath she placed on his head, "you wear this. We shan't teach each other anything unless we are King and Queen."
     He smiled and stood up, "OK, off to the woods then, my Queen. Oh, should we put the fire out?"
     "Of course not. It's burnt this long, why put it out?" She grabbed his hand and they ran towards the forest.

By Elizabeth Azpurua

We Walk For Love a Road Called Hope

When we love people we give them the ability to hurt us. To come crashing over top us, burying us in them and what they are to us. We drop our shields and let down our walls and leave ourselves damageable. We can be broken, bruised, crushed and scarred. Our existence is as if we are a butterfly in their hands; frail, delicate, content to remain in the palm of that which can smother us. When we love we walk a road called Hope that may lead to nowhere and hold onto a lamp called Faith that barely lights our way. We struggle without any road signs, a map, or a sense of direction. We cry to the heavens for help, but sometimes what we love is not for us and so we curse the One who loves us most and stubbornly fight ourselves into the ground, where we lay in a ditch by this road called Hope. We wallow in the rotten leaves and nurse our wounded hearts and curse He who wishes for us to be happy. Then, we hate the road and it's winding ways and barren ground; we break the lamp and wish to remain in darkness and we feel we are undeserving of love. If we could only see the threads of our lives maybe we would trust the One who does see and wants for us the best that we can have. Maybe He wants more for us than a road of false hope and a dead end. Maybe He has a new path, new mode of travel and something truly worth the fight. If we're willing to be weak, to allow ourselves to understand the emotion of frail, then perhaps He wants hands that will understand this and hold us gently, safely and securely. If we are willing to tear our walls down and come out from our shells, maybe He wishes for us to be treasured. Yet, here we are in rotten leaves, choking in agony, fists raised to the sky, and swearing we will never walk a road called hope for love again.

 

Bound and Besotted by Nothing

 I am like a wounded albatross and you were the sky; you mocked my folly, mocked my fall and embraced the sun. I sit here amongst the rocks wishing for the ability to soar again and prove to you that you have no power to belittle me. Your sun will set each night, but me, if I could fly, am not held to any time of the day; I will soar beneath the moon and stars. This metaphor is a poor example of truth; sadness, broken, wounded - my soul is in error. It is faulted. It is hindered by the ability to see beyond what is in front of me. I feel bound and besotted by nothing. I am cut off from the freedoms I knew once upon a time. I am forced to adhere to this new sphere of broken hopes and wounded wings. I do not exist here as I did before and when you came, you changed it all. I yearn for you like none other. I need you. So, go ahead and mock me now and chase your setting sun - follow the edge of the horizon in vain. When you reach the edge of your lungs, gasping for air, feeling defeated, then turn to me and see my broken wings and know which of us is the fool. I will not be mocked by you. I may have been bound and besotted by nothing, but I'll be damned if you have the last laugh. I will rise above this. I will reclaim this metaphorical sky and when I do, I will be unstoppable. There is nothing left for you to do to me; once so broken, there is only repair. What else can you do? Your sun is gone now, fool. Try to reclaim the warmth from the moon and realize it will never come. I'll be fine. I'm no longer bound, or besotted, but simply recovering.

Do...?

Do we hold onto people because we fear what they will do if we let them go? Do we love because we need? Do we hate because we see in them what we dislike in ourselves? Do we lie because the truth burns our tongues? Do we preach because we cannot take our own advice? Do we sing because our soul knows no other way to speak? Do we hope because without it we would perish? Do we cry because there are no words to explain? Do we ache because we are falling apart in slow portions? Do we laugh because our hearts crave joy?

Be True

If you want others to take you at your word, make your words match the actions you take; if you want them to believe in your craft, craft for yourself something they believe. If you fear they will see through the mask that you wear, wear only your face and leave it all bare. Don't show me with words what you claim that is true, show me in all that you accomplish and do and above all if you wish to say other than you feel you might as well match your proclaiming to what is real. If truth is what you preach, then only preach truth and act upon all that is leaving your mouth. If you can't muster up the ability to be what you say then say what it is that you are. If you wish to be pink but your color is grey, don't come to me saying you're some other way. If all that is in you is something named 'false' then don't speak to me of how things supposedly are. All that we are is the deeds that we do and all that we're not is what shall never be true; if you think in your costumes you are hiding behind that you'll gain a following, you're out of your mind. Actions speak louder than words and words carry weights; they carry confusions and they suddenly break. Become what you preach and be who you are for nothing is better than someone who knows who they're not. Inside all our doings we show what we mean, we show our true colors, whether yellow, or green, our words mean quite nothing to those listening ears if we parade about in false colors and cry out fake tears. There is nothing more lovely than someone who embodies truth in all that they say and all that they do.

Karma

Karma.
Do people really get what they deserve?
I try to be a nice person, but sometimes, sometimes you just wish people will go through exactly what you did; sometimes you wish someone will do to them what they did to you; sometimes you wish they will receive their "just desserts" and get a good kick in the arse.
Does this make you a bad person?
I don't know, and frankly, don't care. I'm entitled to hoping that there is some great karmic leveler that comes to play in the backyards of those who have caused me pain, stress or heartache. I hope there is a rude awakening for those who have hurt my family and friends.
It's frustrating to give and give and give and wish that somewhere, somehow, you can actually feel better instead of feeling those familiar boot impressions of those walking all over you.
Maybe we're all a bit too nice. Make people stand on their own legs; make people be accountable for their own faults; if someone upsets you, TELL THEM...and move on.
If they have a problem with your words, so be it. If they still want to be horrible to you, just let it go...someday, I hope anyway, they will understand.
It's like people who cut down trees for no reason....I eenvision Mother Earth letting loose on them- huge roots and branches of trees swinging and swatting and whacking and thrashing...and somehow, it makes me feel better.
I suppose I'm not a very nice person.
I make no apologies.