Cut the Rope

I've been working on a new song. And, by new, I mean I actually wrote a song. It's called "Cut the Rope" which is, in fact, the name of a game on my iphone, but it seemed the most appropriate since the topic is letting go... or better put, accepting you've been let go.

Maybe it's the looming horizon of motherhood, or my 30th birthday following shortly after, or admitting after 3 years, I am still hesitating, finding myself in moments where I'm retreating to comfortable misery instead of leaping ahead.

Thus, "Cut the Rope."

Thanks to the likes of Don and Peggy from Mad Men, and the ever illustrious George Lois, plus a well rounded reading list of everything from Rick Braggs "All Over but the Shoutin," to "Hunger Games," to "The Chosen," and a mix of fashion, design, and business magazines, I feel empowered... or...enlightened... or...

Well, I think I feel kinda kick ass.

Not because I've arrived at some proverbial point of reckoning. An old friend once told me "there's a never a point where you arrive naomi," and while she was correct, at the time what divided us was that I was making decisions that for me meant beginning something- I'd been running in circles for such a long time there was a period where not much made sense, least of all me leaving everything I knew and then crying about the friends I'd lost for the next 3 years.

For better or worse, friends are often not what or who you think they are.

This is the point in most Shakespeare plays where the fool is rambling, seemingly full of nonsensical jest, while the players and audience wonder, "what's the point?" If I could articulate that with less words, we would have arrived. Instead, I'm letting go of worrying over the tide of words, and if they are enough to wash the reader over with emotion, to draw out a response, or sigh, or burst of laughter, and am instead just writing.

Who cares if you read it? (I do, truth be told). But, I think I'm over if you like it or not. Maybe it's all the extra prego hormones, or the warm Austin breeze that never seems to fade, or just the lessons of time sinking deep, like the mud of the Mississippi River- but... meh. Like stepping over the poo a neighbor let their dog leave behind, I'm over it.

Over the drama. Living it, breathing it, chastising myself with it.

Ugh.

My mom used to make us look up and smile at the ceiling when we were being moody. For me, this usually increased my annoyance level, but now, it kinda makes sense. Sometimes I do it just to keep from crying, and the thought of her words ringing in my ears as truth all these years later is enough to make me laugh. Those in the professional field of knowing have made a factual discovery that it takes far less muscles to smile than it does to frown. Actually, I think the ratio is pretty severe.

Energy, even Anger, streamlined into a creative field or motion is kick ass. Like, superhero vs. common burglar kick ass. There's no fight, not even a chance of one.
Negative energy on the other hand, or a wayward temper, is explosive. It takes all the happy thoughts and plunges them into a field of zombies. Hungry zombies.

Gross.

It's much easier to simply look up and smile. Or take up yoga. Or sing.

Either way, life is filled with beauty and wonder that far surpasses our sorrow and pain. Living in the center of Grace and Love is what enables us to pass through the moments we didn't know there was strength to endure, and more importantly, thrive with new appreciation and gratitude for all that we have been given in the midst of them.

So, cut the rope, cut the crapp, and look up at the ceiling and smile my friends.

"Sounds like Hallelujah for the first time"

hello again.

after a long lapse that included a move across the country, news of imminent parenthood, and a whole lot of "soul" searching-

i'm back.

back to what? i honestly don't know yet.

my last post was about 2 specific people. they were my friends, and for 3 years i've tried to get over that our friendship has no future. there were random email exchanges, some more pleasant than others, but at the end of the day.... it's just not working out.

they've moved on.

i, however foolishly, have continued to hang on. to hope. to laboriously work to redeem the damage i've done.

but it's not enough. it's like the relationship you can't seem to get over, that one person you're silently and torturously comparing with anyone who could be the next prospect, looking for reasons it won't work.

because, in the end, you lost the best thing you thought you had.

i lost them. i screwed up, and quickly discovered that words, do in fact, break.

last year, an email came out of the blue, bringing me to a screeching, teary halt.

an email that had the power to bruise me with hope.

and here i am, a year later, feeling the fool again, struggling to make friends because my silly sentimental heart has been reserving their place- an empty table collecting dust while a line waits to be seated.

I naively wrote and sent an email, hoping to (yes, desperately), remind them i'm still here, with my heart on my sleeve like an idiot.

after a month of no response, i've accepted this is ridiculous- i need to get over it and move on.

let's face it- some people change, and others do not. or rather, they move at a much slower pace.

i am not the same girl who was their friend, and you can't go back to what doesn't exist.

letting go

his voice and laughter sweeps through my mind
mixed, with hers divine
faces etched with tattooed weight

wait

fingers nimbly pry the mortar
breath frozen in memory of sweeter days
swiftly the river comes, calling

escape

his voice, sealed in memory
her face, caught in laughter
melodies captured behind these walls

listen

wish granted

the world whispers the secrets i've longed to know
in affable melodies of unknown tongue
and with joy
i still my heart to celebrate their song
until the day
i
too
sing

jonah and the whale- part I

we might think there's a version of paradise
where the to call to respond is silenced

golden shores and silver waves
deep restful calm negotiates

humbly washing our hands
faultless of the rage that is to ascend

yet deep in the pain there is no escape
face reflects face though eyes avert

ship crashing into splintering storm
cold sea salt swelling starboard into our dreams

will we blame God or be thrown into the sea?

silence.is.golden?

we
don't
talk

anymore

is
silence
the
golden
cup
of
love?

no

and
i
am
tired
of
asking
begging
imploring

you

to
understand

love
is
action

On the Outside

Well, this was originally written for a friend about 10 years ago, but it's taken on new life lately, so on request, i'm sharing it.

Child let the fears go
Don't hold so tight anymore
Let out all the memories locked so deep inside

You've been hanging on for too long
Wearing a face that seeks to conceal
The truth, the heartache, the pain that's real

And everyday, you walk that tight rope
One breath away from falling
Everyday, I am dying
Just to be everything, you can't see...

So many people look at you and judge what they see on the outside
They look past a beauty that is so much more than skin deep
So many people look at you and judge what they see on the outside
They look past the beating broken heart that's buried so deep

Tired of their petty games
You pretend it's all the same
But I see the pain caused by the burdens that you bear

So you've tried to run and tried to hide
Tried to love, yet refused and denied
Walling in the truth, the heartache, the pain that's real

So many people look at you and judge what they see on the outside
They look past a beauty that is so much more than skin deep
So many people look at you and judge what they see on the outside
They look past the beating broken heart that's buried so deep

Caught in a desperate run from the past and all the pain
You tie yourself in a million knots, unsure of how to change
Reaching from the black for the hope in your heart
The scars aren't what they seem

You're beautiful

interlude:III

there are some things you should know

buried, once

now, unearthed

for too long, the words, the story, hidden

from myself
from you

most of my life has been a desperate plea for acceptance

that, you might know

the anguish of living
shouldering the secret, hiding the shame
silencing the broken

i left.

your words spoken cut me to the core

yet

i dream of you. hear your voice. see the faces i love

there are some things you should know

i am here. i am real.

and i am stronger than i have ever been
strong enough to face the truth. the past. the pain
and it's not your fault. you are not to blame

i am listening.

and yes, i hope.

not for what was.
what could have been.
not for what was not

there are some things you should know

Faltering Foundations

Finely chiseled berth of marble and mortar
Final attributes to the splendor of kings
Forsaken in history

Unknown

In illusion, foundations strongly established
Sustain

Glorified gold gilded walls erected to propitiate our fame
Disintegrate

In Times acidic hand we lose our grip
Foundations peeled away
Revealing hidden labyrinths

Death and decay the decadent stamp
Of remembrance

Well preserved intentions
A rusted nameplate

Silent sentinel left to mark destructive dreams
Vain Glory
Resplendent under the broken seams

Faltering Foundations

Chained to Heaven

Suspended in Hope
Yielding slight unfocus
Reaching for the promise of a moment
Untempered. Untested.

Wrestling the profane for uncontested relief

Adjusting slight focus
Suspension corroding belief
Reaching for the promise of a moment
Undetermined. Undetected.

Wrestling the profane for unconformable release

Suspended in Heaven
Slight motion repeat
Reaching for the promise of a moment
Forgotten. Neglected.

Chained to Heaven

Wrestling the the profane for distilled peace

Into the Light

Draw me into the Light
Strip with fierce passion
This charred black shroud of mourning

Draw me into the Light
Intoxicate with nimble touch
These calloused membranes collecting dust

Draw me in the Light
Saturate with heavy emotion
Colorless walls disintegrating from neglect

Draw me into the Light
Baptize with sweet desire
Dampened dungeons trapped in memory

Once, prolific beauty

Draw me in the Light
Draw me into the fire of Your eyes

Draw me into the Light
Draw me into Your delight

Draw me into the Light

"God looks down upon you"

The invitation was your hand
Molding this mind, shaping these curves

Through fire and water I prevailed
Guided by the remembrance of your love

Recanting the former self of pomp and circumstance
Though ashen

I entered your harlequin halls

Fingertips brushing
The expectancy of your devotion

Yet

I was turned away
In disgrace and disbelief

By the stewards of your great fame

In this
State
Of humanity

"God looks down upon you"

Revival

Words lift like the mist of dawn
Dark and damp upon the brow

Life breaks and blossoms through earth broken
Survival sidelined by beauty un-jolted

Eye captures but a fragment of each creation
Pulsing as blood buried beneath the skin

Faceless determination hopes in what is yet unseen
Hearts harbor the blurred memory of a dream

Walking and waking
Waiting and praying

Tender shoot repelling cold
Revival through death reborn

FoundWanted

A quaint rhyme and verse
Where the roads diverge...

In all the moments
I've read you, loved you
Breathlessly murmured lyric to enshrine you

Little did I see the web spread
Between the roads, and I

Sweet enchantments of your love
Countless threads of vapor
To hold our past in time

I tread softly
Bright distinct flakes engulf me
The remnants of where I've been
submersed and mislead

The sweat of the struggle
Brushing against the tapestry woven
Sweet broken lies spoken

In this blizzard of recompense
Clawing through the bramble
Reaching these ever numbing limbs

Desperate to be found wanted

Aware
With every step
Seeking a break in the storm

I risk finding myself in the clearing
Of the the two roads diverging
Subtle sickly web awaiting

A compass deluded to the point of returning

Caustic Solution

There

In Abandon, it sits
Kept in isolation

The acid drip

The stopper pressed down
though labeled warning
holding focus

Livid memories unhinged
by the heart
broken

Long collecting dust
use and need
neglected

the caustic flame holding breath

Potent Singeing Solution
Tangible dis-abler in death

Destination Unknown/Destination Disconnect

One is reality, the other, reflection
Both mimic greater glories concealed
In reaching the destination
we find the journey forgotten

Trapped between the glass dome of reality
And the thin ice of harbored dreams

The naked forest cloaked in alabaster
Snow, circumvented relief
The disconnect of worlds
Not held by death

But life, awaiting patiently

Bridge of Forgotten Dreams

Faint through a mist of melancholy
Strong against grey bark and midnight blue
A figure rises beckoning
Through billowing smoke of blank memories

And I in turn
despondent

Lower the moat
Hands leveling fear against hope
Eyes piercing
Starlit. Revived.
Across the bridge

Of forgotten dreams

the quiet din of chaos

do you know what it's like to see the rocketship blast off to space as you stand on the ground, knowing you are the pilot meant to fly it?

i started writing this blog last year, at the beginning of a deep decent into the darkest night, and though I have survived to see the breaking rays of dawn, and experience its warmth enveloping the cold frost of night, i wonder what this waterfall of words on screen contributes in the end?

maybe it's naive to wish for comments or critism on a blog i was too scared to claim ownership of in the past, but i keep looking, thinking, "this will be the day, the moment, someone reads this and...?"

I used to think writing is all i would do- according to "naomi's life goals" written when i was 17, i should have my 2nd published book on its way and have been blissfully married for 2.5 years...

not quite. not now. not even close.

my future remains unknown, although i am not sure it is uncharted. i am discovering there is fine line between despair and discovery, and too often we give up hope when unseen faith is being proven through unseen action yet to be recognized.

There is a throbbing part of me that so greatly desires to be validated through the recognition of myself as a bonafide "writer," yet i know that is not where the MORE in life exists.

I don't know if anyone reads this, and i'm asking myself if i should even continue, yet for the all this thinking... nothing of significance has materilized. i am sitting in the quiet din of chaos as action, voice, diligence, risk... pass me bye


"he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose" J. Elliot

new song

these are lyrics to a new song I've been working on since HQ

I will not be satisfied with the lesser things of men
My extravagant delight is the refining of your hands

I've searched the world over the hear the whisper of your voice
But nothing was louder than the peace after the storm

You're lifting me up
You're calling me out
To freedom

Receive this heart of stone
In your love, make it your own
Take the brokenness you've seen
By your grace, restore life to me

As i look to You, everlasting love

I will look to you
I will look to you
I will look to you
Where my help comes from
Everlasting love

eye see

way up high
painted against sky of blue
a wisp of white-ish cloud
sails past the moon

seeing only
half of the whole
eye in time
revealing what i already know

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