Another semi-conscious Musing...

"Sitting here in Limbo...got some time to search my soul"

Sweet lyrics to sing, yet a heaviness covers me when I repeat the words so well known to many of my kin and kind...does anyone truly get the gravity of these words? I am sitting here at the very place I sing of, at that nexus between living my life as I always have, to follow the path that was carved by me for everyone, and to forge a new way, my way, a path unknown and "under-explored"...

I consider the first option, and I peer ahead and see the cracks and craters, the meandering as I navigate every freedom I would have by virtue of self acceptance for the happiness, comfort, acceptance of others...and I smile at the well worn road...this is me, this is who I am and have been, at the expense of advice of caring friends and to the exasperation of my spirit...

I then strain eyes to the other option, and espy a life tied only in so much as would have me happy...I see the pursuit of laughter, the abdication of weights of a past for which I do daily penance in my masochistic mental cycles, liberated from the acceptance of the forgiveness and love Ive been so wary of accepting. I see the accomplishments of one who has worked assiduously rewarded, I see the acceptance of such as being well gained from the inside, glowing with a pride which has its source internally, not reflecting the light of praise as shone on him. at the end of this road i see completion through loving myself into being well adjusted, to making the illusory cocksure Man into a fleshy truth,to making the Mirage a solid reality...

and you would think this choice easy...but old instinct dies hard, and many reflexes are difficult to unlearn...

what a choice...

"...sitting Here in Limbo...knowing that I have to go..."

Water and the dance...stills from Ballerina Project NY incorporating my favourite element - Water

I have always found that my balm has been the sweet release of Diving beneath a pool of clearest sweet water, immersed in the crystalline depths not to swim, but languidly moving at an unhurried pace...bliss...add to that moving in tandem with other bodies to music that just incites the movement all on its own...sweet heaven is found here...these stills resonate by incorporating both in a beautiful interaction of human being and nature

Ballerina Project...A new obsession of mine, beauty of lines and emotion in every frame...

Gloomy Tuesday

photo credit: stolen from Kadeem Wong-Thompson

Things I almost remember, and a song someone sings....once upon a December

Stream of semi-consciousness...Part 1

"Blood. so much of it, cascading down in an unending stream... I look on and wonder ruefully while I watch my essence slowly leave me...and I smile...I smile for the serenity it will grant so many, who no longer have me to be a burden, to steal your light, to be your block to greater things sure to be accomplished outside of my presence and existence, my apparent (yet oddly non-existent) prescience ..."

I find it odd that in the wee hours of the morning On the day of my ancestors gaining of Emancipation from Slavery, I contemplate freedom and my mind's eye while semi conscious I envisage such a vision as the way I acquire mine. I find that so much of what I think of myself is tied to what I am to others...and it has come to where it is to my immense detriment. who am I and how do i define "me"? I cannot simply claim a sense of purpose and of self if i have no clue who I am...I've spent years simply demonizing myself because of what I should accept as part of being human, and it has gone to the point where at 22 years old I am an "identity-less" withdrawn puppet...I find, at this age that there is almost nothing of myself that I can truly say I love and accept wholly...or that I consider particularly beautiful...or of any real use...and that has been the most prevalent voice in all I do the self doubt which seeps into all that I undertake, that trailing dissonance present in all that comes from me...

My hands feel tethered...

I see you laying in the foetal pose of the anguish of a harsh reality, One of which you are undeserving; a pain that you do not deserve, wounds that ought never to’ve been inflicted on one such as you. I wish I could reach out to allay if even for a moment that brow creased with worry and hurt, to somehow rid you of the horrendous facts of life...and all that comes to mind is “ God should play more.” The line of a poem I have cherished in my dark times: days when I truly wonder if God does indeed find the allowing of the gross injustice to continue to those who are undeserving of such hardship, who have borne enough crosses without having to also be made to suffer an emotional lynching. Was Ian McDonald right? As i regard your stock still form...I look up and shake my head...