It does not roar in raging torrent. Rather

my anger drips like bitter sap, slowly

down the back of my throat,

never critical,

ever present.

Sanity’s veil from linen to lace, through which

the light of inner flame casts mangled stars on

all around me…

Smoldering stars that burn…

And all who I love are marked.

     So I know it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything here. A lot has been going on. A ton. But I’m still here, still breathing, still me. I always used to laugh when I’d ask my dad, who’s now 81, how he was doing. His response “I woke up on the right side of the grass” always seemed equally humorous and morose to me in a curious sort of way. The older I get however, and given the path my life has taken over these past 6 months, I now know just what he means.      To anyone who knows me, I am not the “rah-rah” everything is a blessing, and I’m going to tell you all about it every chance I get type. Those people have always come across as disingenuous to me. I just don’t trust them. I may envy them on some level, but deep down I feel they are delusional. Nobody can be that happy and that positive all the time, right? It’s not even the positivity that irks me. I think it’s the “sell” they portray. It feels like at any second they are going to tell me about why they are so happy and for just $19 a month, I can be as happy as them. True positivity for me is about a spiritual peace; an inner calm and appreciation for small things. I can think of a few people in my life, though very different in personality, who exuded that positivity in a way that has always stayed with me and intrigued me. 

     The first person was my Grandma Ruth. Though she was only in my life a short time, the impression she left is a strong one. She wasn’t “really” my grandma actually, she was my great aunt. But she was grandma in every sense of the word. Many of my first weekends as a child were spent up at her home on Caroga Lake. As a child, that was the most magical place in the world. It’s a pretty little lake mind you, but nothing out of the ordinary. I think the real magic was her. I would follow her around the yard most mornings while she talked to the birds. She would talk to them like they were her friends. Not in a Dr. Doolittle sort of way, but being only 5 or 6 years old, it almost seemed to me like they really were her friends. She would tell me what kind of bird they were, what they ate, etc… For some reason I remember the chickadees most, and to this day if I see one I think of her. We’d water flowers, look at the lake, etc… We would just BE. No agenda, no planning every second of the day in some dizzying attempt to stay “entertained.” We just were. Looking back with a more mature perspective, I think the “magic” I felt as a kid was that Inner Peace. No one seemed more relaxed just “being.” On some mornings I’d get up early and she would be sitting in the front room overlooking the lake, reading. I can still see the colorful sails of the boats, the sun spraying diamonds on the water, the absolute quiet and calm. She looked so happy. Not in a gregarious, “look at me” sort of way. It was pure contentment. The very definition of Living In The Moment. You know how they say to find your “happy place” when things are crazy? To go to that place in your mind? That front room has been, and always will be, one of my places.

     Anyways enough for now. Person number 2 will have to wait for later. Unlike Grandma Ruth I haven’t quite mastered that just “being” thing, and I have some rushing around to do. Guess I’ll have to work on that inner peace thing later 😉
~JMH