Blogging suddenly seems a crazy thing to do.
Sharing myself with the world. . .
All this navel gazing . . .
Assuming this might somehow be of importance to someone else.
How many more voices do we need talking about life . . . about attaining happiness and meaning?
There seem to be a plethora of these already.
(and they get a bit annoying, at times . . . so many different approaches and opinions, promising peace and tranquility. Let me live my own life, already!)
I must also admit I have benefited from the words of others quite often, truth be told.
I hope to move beyond this self focus deal, or at least incorporate other focuses, as well.
(Meanwhile, you'll get to see some cool fractals along the way!)
Okay, I get it. If this becomes only self absorption, it will be of no help to anyone, and will become more and more detrimental to me. You become what you focus on. I could get lost within myself and caught up in self loathing.
So . . . I DO desire to focus on what is true within me. I DO believe there is a gift in connecting with God's spirit within me. I must remember (there's that word again: remember!) and be aware of when I'm indulging my unhealthy, self-flagellating self . . . walking well worn paths that never lead anywhere happy, sweet or peaceful.
Be aware of where I look. . . what I dwell upon . . .
Think on what I desire; not on what I detest.
I was asked if I do much editing when I write.
No. You pretty much read what comes straight out of my head
So, then comes the awareness of others reading my words.
Is this a responsibility now?
To encourage?
To not freak you out, if you're someone who knows me well . . . ?
My brain travels to some strange places
On a journey to live from my heart
From my true, core of who I am, heart
I'll visit this topic often, I imagine.
The whole "who am I?" gig
Dross dripping from my fingertips
Well used veils and masks
Slipping away, leaving a trail behind me
As I walk toward the light
I want to be only light
Pure reflection of beauty and love
(How audacious, yes? No harm in seeking it.)
As I strip away, burn away, wash away
All that is not truly me
It is a duet I perform
With the Spirit within me
Not truly my work
I've requested it
I receive it
I sing with another
A song of suffering
A song of love
A song of remembering
I don't want this anymore
I don't want this anymore
I don't want this anymore
But, I want the gift within the suffering
(I hesitate to use the word suffering . . . others suffer much more than I . . . yet, my perception is that of suffering, so I am free to use the word as well, even as I acknowledge that I have it good in this life)
So, I must also desire and delight in the road that takes me there.
What will remain when all that is not me is gone?
When all that was not meant to be is scraped away?
Good things. Smiles. No more anchors holding me down.
I release my anchors; my security blankets, one by one.
(Or they are released for me . . .)
I will not step off this path.
I will not.
fractal from http://www.enchgallery.com
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