don't look back

I never really fully explain my tattoo to people. It means a lot of different things to me, and so I thought I'd take the opportunity to talk about it a little.

Lotuses grow out of the mud. They rise above the water and cup the sky. It's amazing that something so beautiful can grow out of the mucky muck. They grow into something better, something from nothing. It has eighteen petals, representing the eighteen years I'd lived when I got it. With me being at a pretty pivotal junction in my life, it represents my growth, too.

The ying yang represents balance, and I think that balance is at the heart of everything. It also represents duality, which is another prevalent force in my life. You'll never understand how good things are until they're bad, and that knowledge is necessary to understand the other half of things. Not to mention, there are always two sides to everything, and it's important to remember that.

Chakras are generally represented by lotuses. My lotus is between the throat chakra, Vishuddha, and the heart chakra, Anahata. The heart chakra governs unconditional love and compassion, both for yourself and for other people. The throat chakra governs expression and the ability to articulately communicate. I feel as though these two are my most open chakras, in a manner of speaking, and the lotus is between them to symbolize the continued growth and refinement of my passion, my independence, and my dialogue with the world.

The star above the lotus is quite close to it, because higher things are attainable if you look at them the right way. The star, or pentacle, is also a symbol of femininity and perfection. The lotus, in its lifetime, sees everything from silt to stars, and it sits somewhere between mud and sky, good and bad. It always, without fail, though, is reaching towards the heavens, and it never looks down.

don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are

I haven't been very talkative lately, and I apologize for that. I've been in one of those moods where I have thoughts, but they don't translate easily. I've also been thinking that they're a little redundant, but I suppose I have to remember that things that preoccupy you don't always just come out of the box all pretty and sparkly and solved for you.

Some assembly required.



Anyhow, I thought today I'd spend some time mulling over people. Every time I get close to someone I am again reminded of how truly complex we all are. People surprise me a lot. I guess you sort of get lulled into thinking of the people you pass by on the street every day, or the ones you rub elbows with at the supermarket, are somehow outside and accessory to you. But have you ever wondered what the guy who is contemplating the bagels in the bread aisle is doing with his life? Does he have someone to come home to? Where is he from, and where is he going? What are his skeletons, his demons? And what are the chances that that individual is in the same bread aisle as you, at that exact time?



"Envy is ignorance, imitation is suicide."

I quoted it to a friend of mine last night. It's one of my favorites. Jealousy of another person is silly, because you have no idea what their life is like, and what challenges they have to face every day. If it's too good to be true, it probably is, and just because the outside is polished and shiny doesn't mean that the inside can't have fissures. Sometimes the polished ones have cracks that run pretty deep.

journey to a secret place

I breathe
finally I'm surfacing
I see
the sun is coming up on me

version 2.8

the truth about heaven

I'm not entirely sure which hormone is directly responsible for optimism (probably serotonin, that multifaceted protein love of mine) but whatever it is I got a wave of it.

Probably because it's been lacking lately. For several reasons. If you've noticed my last many many entries have been somber. Right after I told you this was a happy blog, too. I just got mucked up, stuck in a funk.

I suppose I am rather sad when I have nothing to wear. But the laundry is done. My thoughts are all folded nicely into neat little piles.

I think I've taken things to heart rather differently this time. In a we should celebrate life sense.




I'm entertaining suggestions, notions. Our bodies may go into the ground, but who's to say what happens to our souls? Maybe we do go to a better place, if we can just believe in it enough. If it's the last thought you have, who's to say you didn't go? Even if you don't, at least you believed in something beautiful. You had that to hold on to.

If you've ever read The Five People You Meet In Heaven, you know that some think that everyone's heaven is different.



My heaven is a field of daisies that scrape the sky. The field is a dance floor, and the music is so loud you can feel it in your bones. We dance forever, into the flowers.

I remember

I never thought that I would have to wake up to the same news I did on that December morning, but I guess once wasn't enough. When will it be enough? Where does it stop?

It's things like this that makes me think that there cannot possibly be a god. And if there is one, he is a harsh teacher.

It's sad that it takes drugs, and death, to make us realize that what we have is so precious.

when I want to run away I drive off in my car, but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are

I forgot how well I procrastinate. But really, it serves my boss right for giving me work in the last few weeks of my vacation when I'm trying to fit in seeing friends I haven't seen in months and months.

In any case, I will be up very, very late tonight.

Time is flying, but what else is new? If I reflect any more on the subject of time one of you will come after me with a rifle, so I'll digress.



I am terribly grateful for my friends. It's like putting on an old, worn in, familiar pair of shoes when you've been wearing heels all day. A big, life-wide sigh of relief. Friendships like these, and certain people in my life, really affirm my suspicions of reincarnation. Because frankly, this kind of stuff doesn't just come around in one lifetime. There have been several before this. We are the stuff of legend. We've all met before. We get the joy of rediscovering each other over and over again.

It would be a beautiful thing if it were true. I hope it is.



There's a quote in The Dark Knight that goes something like this.

"Sometimes the truth isn't good enough, sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded..."

Now as I am apt to do, I am going to take it out of context, just briefly.

The road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions, and I can give personal testimony to that effect. Now when it comes to the truth, I am a little stymied. I have wavered between both sides of this argument, and right now I'm hanging in limbo.

Sometimes I feel that if they are made in the attempt to protect feelings, white lies can be justified.

Because sometimes people deserve to have their faith in other people rewarded. Sometimes people deserve more than the truth because the truth, though it enlightens, is a dark creature.


I have lied on occasion to protect the ones I love. It always backfires. Perhaps being honest is taking responsibility, and accepting that you are chipping away at someone's faith in you and in people in general. It's owning up to it.

White lies, somewhere along the line, snowball to darker lies. And one lie becomes another, and another, and if you don't catch yourself somewhere along the line, your entire life is dark with the webs of your own fabricated stories. Where do you stop, and where do you draw the line?



Is complete honesty the best policy? Would you rather know? For me it would probably depend on the day that you ask me. It would probably depend on the situation.

I don't really have an answer.

I think sometimes secrets are secrets for a reason. And perhaps some things are better unsaid. Those who don't have secrets may have a much lighter load, and a lighter life. But if Atlas just dropped the sky, then where would we be? There's no easy way to turn back. And you can't just foist your load on another person and claim it's not your problem. (I'll come back to this later).

I don't wish for a lighter load, per se. Perhaps just broader shoulders.

but the brightest flames leave the deepest scars

I had things to say before this, but now they seem to be of little importance. My words were petty.


Patience is by far my favorite song by the Guns N Roses. Not just because it describes how I feel right now, but because it's just beautiful, and proves that someone hard can be soft, too.

There is a lot that I could say about the past week. I could spend a few blog posts and several hours talking about it. Frankly, I just don't feel like it right now. I'm not in much of a mood to talk.



It's not that I'm upset, or angry, or whatever. In fact, I'm really quite happy. I just feel like a washing machine, where all of my thoughts are tumbling up and down and around and things are slapping clangily against the sides but you can't open it until it's done otherwise your house will be submerged in an inch of soapy water.

You gotta churn milk before it becomes butter, you know?

So it's coming. A nice fresh set of clothes. A smooth, silky pat of butter. "All we need is just a little patience."