Reclusive I.

I.

 

The urge to look inward or be contemplative is still very strong in me. It really is a signal: I must get away unless I wish to get lost altogether. This desire has prompted me to return to Hesse's 'Siddhartha'--- I desire to be grounded (Someday, I shall write about Hesse and his masterpiece in detail when I can do it justice.). I desire an unblemished sight.

 

Many things have happened such as living in a community, seeing my best, seeing my worst, and lacking compassion. (I have been too hasty. I have been a horrible judge, and I feel its weight.) With that being said, I feel like I haven't learned many important lessons about life and myself which by now I should know.

 

I shall find my pace. I should work on it, uninterrupted. I must fight for this space.

 

Before I continue rambling like the mad woman I am tonight, let this poem speak for me.

 

Notes on Aloneness*

 

I am an old woman from the mountains,

White haired and scrawny fingered.

My eyes disappear when they are drowned

By wrinkles as I smile.

 

I am peaceful when I know this.

 

But this identity is hidden.

Before you, I am a young girl

With smooth cheeks and supple skin:

You do not know, that often times, you are deceived.

 

Or perhaps, I am the true victim of this trickery.

I pick things up: a fork when shoving food into my mouth,

A martini glass when I take a drink, a joke when I throw my head

Backwards in reckless abandon. In these,

I disappear.

 

The old woman, then, looks from afar,

Yearning for a view of the mountains.

She misses the blue of the skies so blue,

And wishes to experience the type of clarity

Which moves one to tears.

 

When I close my eyes, I see the old woman and where she usually goes.

Her feet tread on leaves and twigs. She inhales

The sweet scent of the earth. She sees the sky cut

Only by the green of the land. With the sound of rustling leaves

And tiny creatures of the world, she is aware only

                        Of her own breathing.

 

She is peaceful when she remembers this.

 

This knowledge is shared between she and I.

Sometimes I forget if I am she or I.

Tonight, when I retreat to my home to shut the doors and shutters

I shall face the mirror and decide: "Who am I?"

 

And there will be no answer.

 

There will be no answer I do not already know.

There will be no answer that I am already certain of.

 

 

*Line cuts may be affected by blogpost method.

 

II.

 

Earlier today, my dear friend, The Quintessence, had told me that I am in a good place. It sounds odd, mainly because I feel that I am still standing on uneven ground. According to her, my being surrounded by people gives me an opportunity to be a "light." I am still puzzled by how this could be true, given that I can offer so little.

 

How can I be extraordinary? How can I walk this path the way that is expected of me*?  What can I share? What can I inspire? Am I really in this position?

 

All I can say to myself is that I must look upon everything and everyone in kindness. Hopefully, everything else follows.

 

*personal note

 

III.

 

The more you are given, the more humble you must become. Please remember that.

 

IV.

 

All poems…I miss writing short stories oh so terribly, but my mind has no space for characters and their lives.

 

V.

 

The Crazy Cat Lady, The Actor, and I spent what was like six hours of nonstop talking. I honestly thought it wasn't possible, but the hours disappeared and we ended up sleeping when there was already sunlight.

 

Our conversation was about belief, and it's great that even though all three of us are different, we give each other mutual respect. I love it when I see that people are capable of that.

 

(Saturday to Sunday)

 

(October 18, 2010)