I'm fascinated and enthralled by the way a hug can take your breath away.
Often more intimate than a kiss, more comforting than words, a hug is my favorite form of closeness.
A hug protects and supports.
A hug allows two to become one in joyous, overwhelming love.
A hug is a full expression of happiness.

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us,
we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures,
have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion,
who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing,
not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness,
that is a friend who cares.”

~ Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey

 

On many nights, that's just what I ache for, to be held, no words, no agenda, just being held.
To feel that closeness, comfort, and safety... The warmth of body heat, the gentle soothing sound
of his breathing.. the rythm of his heartbeat in my ear, as my head rests on his chest, and he
runs his fingers through my hair softly.. Healing, comforting, needed. That sense of touch, of belonging, being needed..

 

and so ends my little thought bubble for tonight..

 

 

Ok so it's me.. and it's a goofy pic.. and yes, I lightened it

Today's entry. The flip side of things. Tried to be all positve in this "ramble"

As they say ~ here goes 'nothin..

From darkness into light.
I feel deeply, therefore I love deeply.
I'd do anything for those I love.
To trust takes a lot of strength and faith for me.
I do not give my trust, my loyalty, or my Love freely.
It's a rare gift, as cliche as that sounds, it really is for me.
I am strong.
I have been to hell, it does exist here on earth.
I have seen the face of evil reflected in a human.
I survived to tell the tale, although I have yet to tell it fully.
I am a survivor, I am no longer a victim.
I am loveable.
I am not damaged, I am scarred.
Even roses have their thorns.
I am beautiful, even if I don't fit societies labels of 'beauty'.
I am unique.
I am a deep thinker.
I over-analyze. Overreact. Feel deeply.
I can't half-ass things, it's not in me to do so.
I question everything, yet I know nothing.
I am intelligent, yet ignorant with many things.
I am afraid of change, yet I am up to the challenge.
I am wild, free-spirited, and un-tame.
Yet quiet, reserved, and withdrawn.
I believe. Desire. Dream.
Dreams do come true.
Knights do exist. Only they wear clothes not armor
There is something more - "out there" beyond the walls I've built.
I am not crazy.
I am worth it.
I am real.
I have the ability .. to fly ..
I see a light, albeit small, it's there, and I am slowly opening up more.
I will not fear that which I do not know.
I will not die an unlived life.
I want more.
I deserve more.
Its not selfish to be true to yourself.
"To thine own self, be true"
There is more than one way, one truth, and more than one path to walk in this life.

*deep sigh*

Not Intrigued With Evening

What the material world values does

not shine the same in the truth of the soul. 

You have been interested in your shadow. 

Look instead directly at the sun. 

What can we know by just

watching the time-and-space shapes of each other? 

Someone half awake in the night sees imaginary dangers;

the morning star rises;

the horizon grows defined;

people become friends in a moving caravan. 

Night birds may think

daybreak a kind of darkness,

because that's all they know. 

It's a fortunate bird who's not intrigued with evening,

who flies in the sun we call Shams.

 

From: Soul of Rumi  by Coleman Barks

 

Sensitivity and Pain  

To live requires energy and fearlessness, but we are brought up in a pleasure-hunting human race,
and pain is something to be afraid of, to be driven away completely, to protect oneself from.  

But it is the pain and pleasure – the duality - together that make the whole, the wholeness of life.  

The more sensitive you are and the more you live from the depth of your being, the more vulnerable you are to life.  

The more sensitive you are and the more capable of loving human beings,
the more you will be hurt; there is more sorrow, there is more pain.  

Psychological hurts, pain and sorrow accompany the sensitivity, intelligence and love.
Love and sorrow go together.  

So, if there is physical or psychological pain, you live with it -
not out of despair, not out of self-pity, not out of any weakness. 

You live with it because it is part of life, it is an expression of life.  

 

Written by ~ Vimala Thakar

 

Beautiful, aren't they?

The Cowboy In Me {lyrics}

I don't know why I act the way I do
Like I ain't got a single thing to lose
Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

I got a life that most would love to have
But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad
At where this road I'm heading down might lead
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

The urge to run, the restlessness
The heart of stone I sometimes get
The things I've done for foolish pride
The me that's never satisfied
The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see
I guess that's just the cowboy in me 

The urge to run, the restlessness
The heart of stone I sometimes get
The things I've done for foolish pride
The me that's never satisfied
The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

Girl I know there's times you must have thought
There ain't a line you've drawn I haven't crossed
But you set your mind to see this love on through
I guess that's just the cowboy in you

We ride and never worry about the fall
I guess that's just the cowboy in us all..

 

Lovely song, and fitting lyrics, whether it's a cowboy or a cowgirl ;}
I've had it 'stuck' in my head most of the day after hearing it on the radio..

Lyrics from : http://www.elyrics.net/read/t/tim-mcGraw-lyrics/the-cowboy-in-me-lyrics.html

the following will make no sense.. just rambling.. trying to just freely write.. no rhyme, no reason, no reality, no fantasy, nothingness.. just words..

nothing is real..everything is real

I've always expressed myself best in words, in poetry.

I've always hidden myself from the world.

I've always been a loner, an observer of life.

I feel too deeply.

I react too swiftly.

I am a product of my life.

I was molded in the mud, the dirt, the broken pieces of what once was.

Maybe I really am different.

Maybe I am just crazy.

Maybe I truly am meant for a life of solitude.

I dont think anyone will ever truly love me.

I dont think true love exists, it's a fantasy, a beautiful lie, a fairy tale.

Friends only last for as long as they need you, then, they discard you.

People never keep their promises. They only say it because its the 'right' thing to do/say. Leverage. Control.

Childhood dies, along with it hope, wishes, and the belief in something good.

Hope doesnt last. It doesnt help. It keeps reality from view. Same with wishes.

People fade away eventually. They get bored with you.

Absolutely NOTHING lasts. It all dies, fades.

We all need a pity-party every now and then.

Reality is an illusion.

No one has the same reality.

You reject my reality because it does not match your own.

I am a lost cause, damaged beyond repair.

I open, then I slam close.

I hurt those I care about.

I hate myself.

I hate myself for loving you.

I hate myself for falling for it, for trusting, for opening.

I react like a feral animal, I lash out.

I can scream all I want, no one will hear me.

I can hurt, I can die within, no one will notice.

If I were to disappear, it'd be best.

No one cares to be here, to be real.

People always change, they never remain true.

I'm not worth the hassle, am I?

I knew it from the start.

I ignored the signs. I wanted to believe. Again.

I failed. I lost. Again.

Once you see my pain, get to know me, you run.

I knew it. Yet, I chose to ignore my instincts.

Now, I feel like a complete and total ass.

Left again. Rambling. Lunatic. Twisted. Tormented. Damaged.

Only good for one thing. Nothing else.

Mindless. Emotionless. A void inside.

Immature. Stopped from progressing.

Living in fantasy. Not realistic.

Doesn't know love. Never will. It's not real.

Rejected. Damaged goods. Returned to sender.

Stamped ignorant. Stamped unworthy.

Unexplored. Not worth trying.

Too painful. Too hard. Too much time.

Yeah. Time. Limits. Hard limits.

Projection of our unique views.

A battle of wants.

A battle of needs.

Completely different worlds. Collide.

Like yin and yang. Not.

Just a brick wall. The hand goes up.

Stop. Cant take it. 

Words echo in the empty silence.

Visions of what could have been fading.

Doubt, mistrust, anger shows its ugly head.

Its all that has ever been a constant companion.

Its all that has ever been real.

Split. Broken. Torn. Alone. Lost. Wandering.

Making no sense. Only to self.

Wanting so much to just let go. But cant. Went to far. Opened too wide.

I dont wish to hurt anymore. Myself or others.

Free fall. Spiral.

Just a misfit. A mistake. A reject.

Always have been. Always will be.

Living in fantasy. Thinking it was real.

What a joke I am.

I dont think you ever will understand.

And that hits deeply and harshly.

 

I'd originally put this under "private" posting, viewable only to me. After some rethinking, I've decided to allow it to go more public. Really doesn't say much, or really even warrant any comments, it's just a rambling, a trip down memory lane for me.. Just another journal entry to be 'filed'..

 {for privacy reasons, I blurred out the last name}

On this day in 1986, one day shy of my 14th Birthday, we received a phone call. My brother, aged 19 at the time, was in a serious accident. Work-related. He worked for a Logging Company
in N. Carolina. He and his coworkers were cutting a tree down, and unexpectedly, quite random actually, one of the branches from this large tree hit a dead tree on its way down. This tree
came directly down on my brother's head. My Mom rushed to N. Carolina, to be at the Hospital with him. Less than 24 hours from then, my brother was taken off the breathing machines, and allowed
to peacefully 'let go' and get his wings. Due to the major concussion he had, there was extreme swelling in his brain, and no activity found on the c-scan, he was basically 'brain dead'.

My life seemed to 'end' that day. Growing up, my sister Tina, and my brother and I were extremely close. We had to be, due to the circumstances of our home environment. I won't go into too much detail,
I'll spare you that much *grin* It took me weeks before I fully accepted his death. Due to the head injury, and swelling of his face/head, my Mother chose to have a closed casket. This only 'helped' me with my denial, I didn't really want to accept that he was gone, forever. My brother was always the protector of my sister and I. He took care of us. Even more so after our oldest sister moved out at 16. He would have given his life for us, he was just that 'heroic' to both of us. I always felt safe with him, I knew he loved me, and would do anything for me.

Once he died, and he was never coming back, I had to realize that I was on my own. I didn't have my brother to protect me. I could no longer look forward to when he was coming back for us (he'd promised to save his money and come back for us - to get us out of our situation). I was alone. In some ways, I felt abandoned. Although logically, I knew he didn't leave us by choice. I was so angry. I was angry at god, I was angry at people. So many people suddenly came around, spouting off love and saying they knew what I was going through, how I felt. All I held was anger. I wanted to yell at them and say "no, you DONT know me, you DONT love me, and you DONT know what I am feeling!" I'd never seen those people before, or even knew them, yet they were family. My thoughts were, if you loved me, I'd know you, and *you* would have done something, and this would've never happened! I'd just stare at them with a blank expression, say "thank you" because it was the right thing to do/say, and then I'd run off to the woods in the backyard, and down to the creek where I would be alone. I cried so deeply from the very depths of my soul, and I threw stones, busted up branches (dead ones) and cursed the god I held responsible for allowing him to die. I cursed my step-father for being abusive, and chasing him out of the house. I blamed myself for being so weak. I wanted to die too. I didn't want to live without my brother, I didn't want to live in fear and see no way out. But I had to. I went to his room, and grabbed one of his sweaters, a light blue one with a v-neck, I remember it so well. I held it to my chest and cried. I kept asking why? Why did he have to die? Why did my step-father have to be so mean? Why did he have to leave? Why.. so many questions, and not one answer. The day my brother left, is forever etched into my memory. There was a green blanket that we always (as siblings do) argued over who was going to use it. The day he left for North Carolina, he'd taken the blanket. I remember well, standing there throwing a fit and crying because Jr was going to take the blanket. In disgust, and with a huff, he went to the van, retrieved the blanket, came back and handed it to me as I stood on the porch watching. He then went back to the van, and I stood there hugging the blanket, all happy I had it, and waved goodbye to my big brother.. Not knowing it was the last time I'd ever see him. To this day, I still have that blanket. I sleep with it every night. Although I've been told I should get rid of it, throw it away or pack it up, I refuse to do so. I will have it with me always. It's faded, missing the 'strip' it once had around the edges, and carries stains from different things, but I will never let it go. It's the last thing my brother ever gave me, and holds such high sentimental value, there is not enough money in the world to make me part with it