Friday, April 22, 2011

That Cold Hug

My heart is heavy this afternoon. I'm incredibly sad. Hard to walk. My cheeks feel droopy and my eyesight is blurring. What is wrong? I did have a feeling before I left to see her but I wanted to meet with the hopes of making a new friend. A friend who shares a love of horses. The conversation was awkward; hard to maintain eye contact. The highlight was the big warm blooded Hanoverian gelding. He was nuzzling and open. Just like all animals, the connection is always honest, non-judgmental, happy to be with you, comfortable. With a hug she says goodbye, but the hug was cold. Not genuine. Extending my hand may have set the cold mood, but the answering hug was worse. Was it me? Was I exuding the uncomfortable air that hung between us? That feeling won't go away. I'm just going to let the blue funk take me. From past experiences, I can't fight it. It always comes hard, sweeping, engulfing.

The sun is shining this morning, those puffy white clouds that make the cobalt blue sky even more intense. Blue skies this morning, blue funk last night. One call from a mutual friend led me out of the depressing feeling that engulfed me. Everyone hides things, weird things, shameful things, things we just don't want anyone to know about. I believe that we all can read the energy of others, whether consciously or subconsciously. That feeling yesterday, was it because I read a troubled soul? One that used alcohol to hide the emptiness, the boredom, the losses in her life? Or maybe it was mirroring my feelings? My fear, my loss, my boredom.

I'm pulling myself into the now of existence. The only place I want to be. "Surround yourself in the now," I say. "You can do it." Really isn't that hard, but it does take a great deal of effort. Not living in the now has led me into the past, experiencing all those horrible feelings over and over again. "Not anymore," I say. "Not anymore." The only life I have is the one I create from this point onward to happy, content, active feelings and the anticipation of what exciting event is going to happen now.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Part 2, "Something Wicked This Way Comes"

A blur, a shapeless black blur moving.  I saw it out of the corner of my eye. But when I look over in that direction... nothing out of the ordinary. Same furniture, same window, same bookcase.

I'm drifting back to a memory of the bad guy and the evil spirit blurs in the Patrick Swayze/Demi Moore movie, "Ghost."

"What are you?" I spurt out loud, then think to myself, "Are you crazy? There's no one here." Egad, I'm loosing it now. Talking to no one. Just shadows.

What was that? In the far corner of the cabin, I know I heard the floor creek. Now that my eyes are playing tricks on me, are my ears too? Holding back the urge to speak up again, suddenly I gasp for air as I have forgotten to breathe. The sudden intake of air seems to echo throughout the house, bouncing along the walls.

Clutching my sweater together, I can feel my heart beat. "Well at least I'm still alive," I think. Then turn towards another blur that disappears.

I've got to get out of here; just get in the car and drive away. But I can't. The snow's too thick, my car is stuck. I'll make myself a cup of strong coffee. Doing ordinary things will surely dispel my vivid imagination. Going over to the small coffee pot and filling it with water, reaching into the cupboard for the Folger's, I'm startled by lights from a car reflecting on the wall then gone into the night. No car engine running, I hear nothing, just the wind, howling and moaning. Did I say moaning? I'm loosing it for sure now. Slowly, I peak through the window curtain. The snow is so thick, I can't see the edge of the deck. Great. now what?

The gun that I always carry is in the car, outside, in the car that  is stuck in the snowbank. Too far away.

(to be continued, yet again)

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

You are not alone.

My brother, Johnny, died at age 23 of cancer.

For years, tears would roll down my checks whenever I saw someone who reminded me of him, until someone very wise asked me if I could still picture how he looked. "Yes," I said. 

He then ask me if I could hear his voice, see his smile. "Yes I can," I felt the pleasure of this vision.

He continued to ask me if I asked Johnny a question do I know what he would answer. Thinking long and hard, and seeing Johnny in my mind's eye, hearing his voice, seeing his crooked smile, I responded, "Yes, I do know what he would answer." 

Then, he replied, "Your brother is always with you. You can see him, hear him and talk with him anytime you want."

I have never forgotten that moment. I love you Johnny. You are... always with me.