I feel like a pimple ready to pop. Or a flower ready to bloom, or maybe a volcano ready to explode. Not sure which. I would hope it could be the flower. I am back in the mood to create art work again. Not sure why. When I packed up all my paraphernalia downstairs I truly thought I had lost my ummph or else I had no talent and just decided to accept that fact. At any rate, I'm in the mood to do something again, try something, anything. I'm fairly certain I'll be terrible (hence the pimple picture), I'm hoping something good will escape me (that's the flower), but I'm positive if I don't do SOMETHING I will explode like a volcano and destroy everything and body in my path.
Life just hasn't turned out quite like I pictured in back when I was twenty something. But, then who's life has. I've looked at each decade after my 10th birthday (don't remember much before then) and something terrible has happened in each one. This decade has been the worst for obvious reasons. And yet I'm still alive and breathing. I wonder why? Truly I do. Life doesn't revolve around me but it doesn't revolve around anyone. It just revolves. So hang on tight!
I wish to be free of pain and suffering and worry and fear. I wish to be free to just exist and do what I want to do. I wish not to cry at the drop of a pin, not to feel sad when I see an ambulance go by or pictures of starving babies. I wish not to hate those that need to be hated or despise those who take advantage of helpless people. I guess I wish to live in a perfect world. If wishes were horses then I (the beggar) would fly. I could go on and on about what I wish but if it was possible then I wouldn't have a family. They are the ones I worry over and fear for their pains and suffering. So, I accept the bad with the good.
Is the person we are, from day to day, the result of our life's trials or the result of how we handle those trials? Not easy to answer. I am still amazed that "life changing events" (good or bad) don't always change people's lives. They have certainly changed mine. Maybe there is more to heredity than environment that we think.
Maybe I don't know who I am yet. I am not the person I was 10 years ago or 20 or 30. I know we are all evolving through out our lives. But where's the road map?
I'm not a pimple or a flower or a volcano. I'm a freakin' runaway train on an unfinished track....And I know not when the track runs out. Now Christian's would say that God is the engineer. I say there IS no engineer. None... zip.... nada... I just keep walking through my days waiting for the crash.
Ah, yes, back that word... CRASH. All of the pictures I have hung in the living room are of Mary. So beautiful, calm, motionless, museum like pictures. When the bad memories start to work their way into my thoughts I forcefully push them out. I'm getting pretty good at it. It's kinda like lying to yourself. If you keep busy enough your worries get pushed out. Until they slap you in the face. Then you have to concentrate on them.
Mary, Mary, my sweet Mary. Each time I walk into or out of a store I remember walking with Mary holding hands, swinging them between us by our sides. I see lots of other mother's and daughters doing that. And we've done this her whole life, not just when she was little. (Here's my problem. I just changed "we did this" to "we've done this" because I didn't want it to be past tense. I still can't accept the facts and now I'm crying. This is what I get myself into when I write.)