For the sake of a Needle . . .

~m

Having a melancholy little Wednesday afternoon here.
I’m cooking and listening to music but I don’t know . . .
No more details.
This is a song I used to play with a band I was in years ago and it evokes good memories.
I think that’s what I really need today.
And yes, I want to see the Northern Lights before I die.
It’s a definite on my bucket list . . .

Got this from a close friend of Sarah’s.
It is, in a literary sense, quite haunting and spoke to me in ways unimaginable.
It was supposedly written by a 15-year-old girl.
Pretty amazing and apropos for this particular time in my life.
Thank you, Katherine.
You are, in many ways, an angel,
although you would never admit it . . .

“The soul and the body exist separately.
While the soul uses the body as a vessel to express itself,
they never truly become one.
For this reason, when one’s body passes on,
the soul does not follow.
Instead it remains living; free to wander where it pleases.
Visiting its favorite places, or doing its favorite things.
And if, while on Earth, the soul found someone so special that it wants never to leave them,
it will enter that person and continue to live.
It chooses to stay in that person.
Forever watching over them,
Protecting them,
Loving them.
Forever being with them.
Realize this, remember this, keep this with you.
Because the bodies of the ones we love will pass on,
But their souls will never die.”

*thinking about Dad and angels

I need the sharpest of knives to slice this
epidermal anomaly from the trappings of my weak and aging body
Deep slices to the elbows, slow and tender slices to the knees
please scratch my legs until they bleed, thank you please
this betrayal of skin, the most hideous part of me
is a possession of the worst kind,
an internal itch I will never be physically able to touch
the P takes over my body, the quintessential tired host
it will never be free . . . as the crimson spreads far above the blood that boils deep within me
People will continue to stare,
invisibly pointing to my sprawling scarlet letter ‘P’
just another ugly ducking,
just another ugly waiting stranger hiding deep inside of me . . .
I hate this

It is during this time of the year that I generally go into an emotional cocoon;
my own kind of hibernation and self preservation mode.
December 1st until January 2nd, my internal sensors (censors) go into a Lockdown setting.
Life is hectic, loud and screaming with white and pink noise.
I need a celestial graphic EQ (equalizer) to take out the nasty sonic peaks and hisses of the daily grind.
Ah, were it that easy.
Maybe there’s an app on the Iphone for that.
The only place that I can find some silent respite is when I fall asleep.
But sometimes even sleep doesn’t work.
The other night (this just came to me now) I was dreaming that I was standing in the middle of some godforsaken superhighway with cars and trucks whizzing by me at what seemed to be light-year speeds.
I could feel wind on my face but the cars and 18-wheelers were just horizontal blurs of colour.
I was frozen, frightened and couldn’t move without getting reduced to a platter of road kill.
I did finally wake up at 3:03AM.
My skin was clammy and I was thirsty.
I went downstairs and got a glass of water and back up to bed where I began tossing and turning my nocturnal thoughts like a mad chef tosses a freshly ordered Caesar Salad.
At 5AM I got up and made coffee.
The act of trying to sleep was maddening.
This dream was symbolic for me and the perfect allegory of my life.
It also made me think of a story someone once told me.
It could have been told to me by my mother – but like my dream’s unknown ending, I just can’t remember.
I do remember the story though.
Its author is unknown so I’ve taken the liberty of changing the POV.
This story inspires me and brings hope to the heart because a worldly truth is that we are all in this thing together.

I was at the end of my rope. Seeing no way out I dropped to my knees in prayer.

“Lord, I can’t go on,” I said, “I have too heavy a cross to bear.”

The Lord replied, “My child, if you can’t bear its weight, just place your cross inside this room. Then open another door and pick up any cross you wish.”

I was filled with relief.

“Thank you, Lord,” I sighed, and did as I was told.

As I looked around the room I saw many crosses, some so large the tops were not visible.
Then I spotted a tiny cross leaning against a far wall.

“I’d like that one, Lord,” I whispered.

The Lord replied, “My son, that’s the cross you just brought in.”

During this holiday season, it is my hope and prayer that the burdens you carry in your hearts today will seem lighter and somehow more distant tomorrow.
Pax . . .

*the picture I used for this post was taken by Amanda Lucier.
Click here to learn more about this amazing photojournalist and the story behind the photo.

Cumulonimbus, in purples and lavender greys
it’s heavy with rain . . .
it smells like rain, feels like pain,
but there’s little need to look back again
because it’s just more of the same
cutting it deep

Lightning rains from the heavens above,
the brilliant flashes of pure white light . . .
it illuminates all but the darkest and sacred of corners
in a room where the walls are ever-changing,
re-arranging the unfathomable fractures of the soul
sadly caught up in a crystalline hurricane

One thing is tragically clear,
a storm has settled over here,
as the clouds shift their gossamer form . . .
with a heart on the mend, tired of trying to bend
the soul looks for the eye of the storm
And maybe hope will rain
someday . . .

We have our bad times, those days filled with
gray and bruised thunderheads ready to burst with raindrops of frustration.
It’s in getting through the inevitable storms; riding the dark waves of our lives
to the safety of some waiting harbour that we realize the sun can still shine, just for us.
It takes a real strength to weather it all.
And we are that strong.
The stuff we’re made of is ultimately all that’s really needed to see us through to the other side.
And we will get there.
Although we can’t control the winds, we can carefully move the sails that will someday guide us home.
We have to hold on, just the 2 of us, if only for the three tender and beautiful hearts
we’ve been so blessed to receive in this life.
Everything will be alright.
So for now, just hold my hand
and don’t be afraid
to feel that at the end of the longest day, that the moon and stars are shining, just for us.

I went to the candlelit chapel at Jenna’s college tonight for mass and heard the choir (which Jen is in) do this song.
I had goosebumps and tears in my eyes simply because they sing it so well and the song moves me so.
I also thought of a close friend that needs to listen to this.
I know she will cry but I am ultimately hoping it gives her some much needed light at this somber point in her life.
Close your eyes and listen . . .
Groban’s voice is an amazing instrument.

You may ask, why aren’t you watching the Celtics/Lakers game?
This was more important.
A friend needs prayers tonight and I hope that any visitors take pause and say something.
No need for a comment, just take 2 minutes and say a prayer, your own prayer.
If you want more information regarding the situation, click on the picture above.
A prayer is all that’s needed.
I thank all of you in advance.
Prayer is powerful stuff so please take a moment . . .
Or check in with one of Kelly’ angels

If there was a star in the sky
I’d wish upon it
better days for you . . .
But sometimes it feels the stars
are all taken, leaving the sky dark and godforsaken; a desperate space

this self-imposed penance is just that
as is the self-denial of a solace richly deserved

the light of the soul never dies
but occasionally flickers;
a sign that things do change
black to white, night to day

there’s a star in the sky
and I’m wishing on it
better days for you . . .

if you’re left wondering about the star
* i put it there
just remember I may need you to find me one someday . . .
I wish you faith, love and a belief that life goes on
because it does.

~mikey

ps. so much for less posting, eh?