broken

 glass house motif
crackling under the pressure
outer guard with a sheen of glowing surface
We have a steering issue that hits us into the curb
with course undisturbed the wheels head back to the beach after winding different ways away from it.  These instances keeps our hands on the wheel when others say to take them off.

glass house issue
stacking onto the lacker
inner core with an ore of diamond solidity
You have all the future ahead of you to goodbye
with out an only flight plan this former crash glides on the wind of all four different ways and right to it!
Those, bind hands together in an unknowable order when others want to know!

version 2 (more developed)

    This story is about a blind mug collector and a time when he thought about a tea cup.  Though we may have more interest in the young man, it is important to note the tea cup was a one of a kind hand crafted masterpiece from the Master Craftsman.  It was very well made with beautiful colors and the perfect combination of elegance, playful swirls, and transparency  that allows the light to radiate and brighten the surrounding space.  Though it is a work of art and worthy of great care, it acquired  damage around the handle.  The Master Craftsman was bringing it into a fully restored condition, but our story with the young man starts before the work was fully complete…

    Now this young mug collector was quite the eccentric personality.  He loved to awaken early in the morning and enjoy the quiet with some tea mildly sweetened with honey, never milk.  He did not like milk in his tea.  While he had a preference for herbal teas, but was always pleased with what ever was available.   For a man with this measure of interest in the culture of tea, it would seem odd that he never drank from tea cups.  This is where he diverted greatly from the norm.  He only drank from mugs.  The strong and sturdy type.  To him they were like family and friends.  Each mug he collected had a personality of its own.  Some were funny shapes others had clever slogans spelled out in the texture and in all there was great variety with in the collection.  While he only regularly drank from a few he enjoyed maintaining a connection with as many as he could, even if it was only once in a long while.  He had a special routine for holding them to get to know each of the mugs and they were tied to joyous memories of the past. It brought him much joy to be reminded of the blessing it was to have each mug in his collection.  

     He had nothing against tea cups.  He thought they were beautiful and he knew people that spoke endlessly of their love for well crafted tea cup.  He was aware of the expense involved and felt his income to meager to invest in such a venture.  He knew they were more delicate than mugs and thought himself maybe to ruff to properly care for fragile art work and to do so every day! He had few experiences with tea cups as a boy and they did not help to create more interest but quite the opposite.  So he  avoided the whole dynamic entirely and stuck with his mugs.

     One day he was in the process of adding a few mugs to the collection.  He was entirely unprepared for what was about to happen.  He heard a tea cup in the distance that had a sparkle to its clink as it was set in the display. He dismissed it easily but later in the day he heard it again.  He did not actually know it was the same tea cup at the time as it had been moved to a different display case and the acoustics  were different enough to change most of what he heard, but that glint of light, that glow of music rang in his ear.  As he would stop in the store from time to time, this tea cup continued to catch his attention and he became almost agitated by what began to happen.  At one point he even had a dream and the tea cup was in it.  While it was not the focus of the dream, he was bothered by what the meaning might be.  It seemed an interest in this tea cup was growing, and he tried to fight it.

    When he finally admitted to himself that this was the case, he sought out an expert friend of his.  He was familiar with this tea cup as it was widely regarded an exquisite  work of art.  He mentioned some minor repair work that had been done but ultimately gave a rave review.  Our poor collector  began to  be aware of a range of confusing reactions and a wealth of apprehension.  He brought this up with a Professor he had met.  This very wise man listened to the young collector and eventually told him these feelings were not something to be rid of, but embraced.

"Think about it,  you know tea cups are delicate and highly valued.  Your apprehension is only natural.  Use this as a guide line to being careful as you seek out more information."  

    Our slightly relieved mug aficionado then plotted out his movements.  He modified the routine so as to take extra care.  With a wealth of courage and for the first time in his adult life he went to reach for this rare ceramic piece. He was so encouraged at  the brushing of the rim without it crumbling to dust!  As he blindly made a move for the handle, his thumb came across the sharp edge and was split open.  He thought he put it down gently but to this day is unsure if he could have done better.  The teacups sound rang true and seemed to be okay but he was in pain and he could not see the what and why of his thumbs current state.    He quickly pressed against it to stop the blood flow and pain brought air into his lungs.  

    He made his quick retreat trying to fight the fear attempting to blanket him from this unforeseeable incident.  He had built up such courage to even try and now was in pain.  Would he be able to reconcile this new found interest and resulting discomfort, or would he resign himself to life as it had always been.  Before he calmed down his mind was full of the back and forth of ocean waves.  "What was I thinking? Will I ever build up such courage again? Is there a point to it? I made a plan, why did I get hurt? Do I deserve anything so nice?"  A wealth of melodramatic and ultimately silly questions welled up, were categorized, and dealt with.   

   After tending to his wound he set his mind to planing for his next step.  His thumb held the memory of the sharp edge in the form of a superficial scratch and regret tried to take hold.  It failed as the light began to grow from deep with in him.  He was choosing to learn from this.  Yes, he knew it was not the fault of the teacup.  and Yes, more surprisingly for him, He still had interest is the sound of that teacup.  He decided instead of reaching out for the tea cup  to seek out the Master Craftsman.  He would know what style of cup was the best fit and would never entrust one of his works to someone if it was not yet ready.

oh crap for real?

one month and
some time has passed and I have had lots to write about but alas there has not exactly been the time to write.  I am writing this now in a rushed ration so as to help myself get back into the practice.  I like to have a little momentum or some kind of gimmick.  I am sure of where I am in a geographic sense, yet not as much in the metropolitan sense.  It is as if the doors opened to get me here and now I have entered a room full of doors.  and they seem to be in flux.  opening and closing and my hair is blown back by the wind.  Which way will be best?  there is some measure of fear crouching around the corner throughing out static interference so my brain thinks "this is it!" then "Oop, maybe not"
And this is not all that unfamiliar as I labored to get here I had years of this.  "What should I do for work?" the answer never came because the answer was to move.  Done. checked of the list. move down to the next thing.  what is that next thing?  (doors swing open and shut) which of these next things is actionable (doors swing open and shut)  Why do these wings flap with no measure of time? flap? more like flab! I sink in the air and my measure come back to haunt me.  I don't want to be carried on the backs of others, I want to help carry!  How can I better use this written place to bring you the truth of what could be, of what will be?

And in all I see it is such a waste of time!  but in saying that it is a waste of time I feel like I am saying that it is a complete an utter bad thing.  how bad is this?  should I hermit myself away then?  This I know is wrong but who is the outlet?  certainly not this young one.  so I wait with baited breath for six years to return and maybe get some measure of deliverance...but what if...
endless cycle of stupidity

maybe I'll try for a hair cut tomorrow.  that or wait for a month to pass...how can that be?  your math will be off around this schedule
stop looking and this glass like it has the bits you can see
my wind blown hair only makes for a better pic
but internal shots make for shots to be gotten
a short time till pads of some number and then what?
how far am I willing to walk with only one goal?
one and half hours and I will tug at these strings till my fingers bleed
tomorrow or the next day because I want for there to be joy in my head and I think that this is one of the only ways that I will see a change in my left.  To give all of what is left.
How do you spell bereft?
weak I know but a week month has lasted me over nine years and my heart melts at the sight of this happening again.  how much longer until I can slight these things into a pocket and forget them? Oh really...Never?  Well how what when where why! I'll just stand on a corner and waste through everything, not knowing where the end of this pit goes

But there it is:  I know where that pit goes and it is not for me.  So next week I have adventure planed and after that I have time to run myself into new ground basking in the glory of how hard it is to be stubborn and mindless after one knows better that to be stubborn and mindless.

12-7-12

mugs and teacups

   I love tea and honey.  Many people offer milk and sugar with tea but I prefer it with honey alone.  I have always preferred drinking tea out of mugs.  I have always had great mugs around and tea cups were...less common.  As a result I have lots of experience with mugs and very little with tea cups.  I like some mugs because they say funny things, and others because of their size,shape,or thickness.  Different mugs have different benefits and based on them, I choose the mugs I use.

   So one day I am out and about and I see this tea cup.  It is a very well made tea cup and I notice it.  Over a few weeks time I continued to notice it.  Then it began to bother me that I was noticing this tea cup.  It was so well made I believed it must be very delicate.  Being a cautious person, I could not justify waltzing into the store and saying "I'm going to take this tea cup, Thank you."  I wanted to know more about it, but I was so nervous about even asking, Why?

   I was talking with some friends about it.  I told them all about my abundance of apprehension regarding this tea cup issue that had arisen.  Why did I have any apprehension at all?  What was my problem? Am I not being quite silly about all this?  I got some decent feed back...

Having always used mugs, it only makes sense that I be more careful.  Mugs are more sturdy and should I decide go with a tea cup I would have to treat it in a completely different way.  The things I would need to do to take care of it are complete different and I am not accustomed to them.  I was relieved to think about this and realize this and categorize what I felt was quite silly as quite understandable.  So I resolved to inquire about said tea cup.

All that to find out that it is currently not for sale!  Ho hum,  at least I won't feel quite so awkward the next time I see a tea cup I like!

please comment

who wants to hear a story about a tea cup?  after I get some sleep I'll begin the composition...next week maybe?

pink shoes

I am wearing my red shoes and I wonder how much longer I will have them?  Will they one day become pink?  should I avoid this mode of foot wear?  I think not, because I can walk on egg shells with these.  If anything I long for the day that these pink shoes walk me the small way down.  Its a dangerous path, I know.  Yet, in knowing, my team will proceed with my well known caution.
I am very thankful for all that has mounted as blessing and all that is on the horizon.  For the second time in a month I sport these verses and wait for the echoing voice of approval as I seek out a walk that brings honor and glory to He who put me here.  I am so thankful for the over abundance of joy with which I have been overly blessed.



(Now who wants to go get some coffee!)

draft

I tend to be a very causious person.  I was playing shesh besh the other day and my opponent continuously comment on how "safe" I was playing.  Almost as if to say it would not be entirely beneficial.  I happened to win that particular game, much to my opponents frustration.  So looking back in my life I see I am reasonably careful.  My thinking goes something along these lines "why take this risk?  I could loose so much. It is better to take the slow more sure road."

I think this is a good philosophy but I am aware that it can be take to far.  I am realizing now how close I came to being ruled by these ideals.  I am only beginning to see how crazy I am for this recent set of choices.  I am plowing new ground and planing out an irrigation for the crops to grow.  I'm attempting to transplant and adapt concepts from nearly foreign seedling ideas into ground of which  I have a few months worth of knowledge.  This is a wall for me.  I am hitting this wall in slow motion and allowing myself to learn where the bruises develop.  If this wall show no sign of weakness, I'll just plot to climb over it.  (sorry keyboard, I don't mean to hit you so hard. But you are the glasses through which I see this wall and the tools I have to chip away at it.)

There really is no option.  Home is not behind me.  A safe place is back there, but between us is a much higher better established wall.  (I should know, I helped build it)  So I thrust forward and what seems to be brick and stone.

Praying all the while I don't break a bone.

cake?...nope...gravity

I am going to make a concerted effort to go to bed now though this gravity pulls me south.  away turns into weeks and then a day...and then two.  this seems the norm so I'll not buck, but really... I'm weak kneed
turned under and curious

I can't seem to grasp how it is that I have gotten this far intact.  and the smiley face signal sign?  they all say the green light is bouncing off the sun!  yet delays mount and pending phone calls bank interest, but is it one-sided and end minded?
plenty of work to do to fill the empty.  zippers are a triumph as much as they may sting.  Now to make a handle for such a time as that.  at least that won't make a difference in the end

how long can this seem hold?

soften

Do I soften this in the chance that you stumble
Or do I unload that your eyes will open?
you see at this point you have begun to paint the floor around your feet.
You will have beaten yourself again with out
getting out of the gate.  If not for me
I will see to what ever I need to in order to loosen these strings
my lip stings with all thats been bitten to keep peace
but you are bridging that gap with purpose
and you'll avoid the curious after this back draft
blows past the newly ashen eye brows.  Brace for the newness.
It brings with it something difficult, but beyond it whats best!

The best is just beyond...

A surprisingly tense root with in the ground
pulling at a nerve that
has been numbed by years of...
neglect.   Ma la'asot!
a delicate balance tipping the aural receptors into attempting chaos.

and then weeks go by with



mounting



tension



All for the single purpose of drawing out the weight of internal truths.
which are worth dragging through this dessert desert?
those are the roots to feed and all others must be cut.