I don't know if it's that Christmas and New Year's are around the corner or not, but I have certainly run into the proverbial wall. Officially running on fumes at work. Luckily, I am on vacation next week, where I intend to just unwind and relax and enjoy the day as it comes. It's almost as if the body/mind are aware that the year is about to end and are gearing up for that final uphill run before passing out into rehabilitation.
It's been a heck of a year for me personally, from my daughter Miranda being born, to the fantastic family vacation to the Cape, to my folks moving back home. Personally, it has been very fulfilling. I've gotten closer to some of my older friends whom I dearly love and have made new ones in the process. At the beginning of the year I referred to 2011 as the Year of Embrace, and that it has certainly become - a year of embracing friends and family and coming to terms with internal turmoil and fears. A year of really focusing on the needs of others versus mine - finding long lost family members whom I hold very dear.
As for 2012, well, I guess I haven't thought that far off yet. I know there are upcoming vacations to places like the Caribbean and perhaps some other unexplored venue. More to come on 2012. For now, I countdown the days left before Christmas vacation; two more days and I'm home free until 1 flips into 2.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Day Within a Day
Today feels like what tomorrow will feel like; which is what yesterday felt like. There was laughter and introspective thoughts. There was an infusion of joy and nostalgia. Tomorrow brings with it emotions and aspirations for the new year. Today is filled with planning and dedication. In the end, it is all intertwined in a web of sticky glue. Many aspects of tomorrow will blend with today with a sprinkle of yesterday. It's like one of those long jazz compositions - complex in nature, yet simple to understand, if you are committed to really listening. Perhaps, that is what we fail to do, really listen. The rush of the moment inhibits us from truly listening.
Stop. Breathe. Blink a couple of times, and listen.
Stop. Breathe. Blink a couple of times, and listen.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
For All We Know..
...someone is out there, playing, praying, perhaps simply portraying themselves in lights unbeknownst to them in past adventures, during past tribulations. Out there in the rain they play the puppet, withering away to life's fatal touch - the wound that festers and never heals. The strings dance along like permanent rain, masking the deceit and the many triumphs we have chosen to bury, simply because we can. Because the truth is ugly and does not cease to show its face around corners and in shadows.
Still, for all we know, it makes us better individuals, better citizens. It is liberating no matter how intoxicating. The pages of the book continue to turn as the seconds tick away and our lasting memories shift onto themselves; consolidating the present and throwing away the left-over cigarette in the ashtray of tomorrow. Sooner or later we find ourselves, there I say, we find about ourselves things we were too blind to see. Even in the mask of night and isolation, one can truly find themselves.
The ashes continue to bubble up in dark clouds, the strings moving along fast and furious - yet we still find ourselves, our center, our raison d'etre. It's a delicate art form, deadly and life-affirming. At the end of the day, the rats come out in a circle to the tune of the piper. The question becomes airy, like a whisper...what are you doing for the rest of your life...?
...someone is still out there, playing, praying, perhaps simply portraying themselves in the illusion of the inevitable dance, for all we know.
Still, for all we know, it makes us better individuals, better citizens. It is liberating no matter how intoxicating. The pages of the book continue to turn as the seconds tick away and our lasting memories shift onto themselves; consolidating the present and throwing away the left-over cigarette in the ashtray of tomorrow. Sooner or later we find ourselves, there I say, we find about ourselves things we were too blind to see. Even in the mask of night and isolation, one can truly find themselves.
The ashes continue to bubble up in dark clouds, the strings moving along fast and furious - yet we still find ourselves, our center, our raison d'etre. It's a delicate art form, deadly and life-affirming. At the end of the day, the rats come out in a circle to the tune of the piper. The question becomes airy, like a whisper...what are you doing for the rest of your life...?
...someone is still out there, playing, praying, perhaps simply portraying themselves in the illusion of the inevitable dance, for all we know.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Train Station
The tracks end in a blinding flash, unexpected yet familiar. Like a distant nursery melody that reminds you of your early childhood days; the high water mark when things stood still and meant something much more profound. The familiarity of the sound compelling, the fury unparalleled. Still, we remain in constant search for something meaningful and fulfilling. The spirit, the soul, the mechanism that makes us feel and ache and at times, weep. Adrift the melancholy of the past and what could have been, it simply lingers.
December the 1st is here and with it, thoughts turn to the past. Childhood memories, of Christmas and loved ones and fun filled days of eggs sunny side up. Days when there was no snow, yet no snow was needed. Sad memories go by the wayside giving light to sounds of laughter and music and all of that magic that comes with this month. If one could bottle the magic that December brings and spread it throughout the year, how different life would be.
Yet here we are at the opening of the bell. The first of the month, reminding us that there's more to come in wondrous ways. Reminding us that at the end of the tracks, the flash gives way to memories and unbridled joy.
December the 1st is here and with it, thoughts turn to the past. Childhood memories, of Christmas and loved ones and fun filled days of eggs sunny side up. Days when there was no snow, yet no snow was needed. Sad memories go by the wayside giving light to sounds of laughter and music and all of that magic that comes with this month. If one could bottle the magic that December brings and spread it throughout the year, how different life would be.
Yet here we are at the opening of the bell. The first of the month, reminding us that there's more to come in wondrous ways. Reminding us that at the end of the tracks, the flash gives way to memories and unbridled joy.
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