Re-Introduction

Reintroduce yourself to the things that you love the most

To the things that love you the way you remember

Re-invite yourself to the things you've met time and time again with a degree higher than grace

This isn't the first time you've met, the last time you'll meet, or the only chance you'll get

This is a dance

Whether you have two left feet or half of a toe means nothing to the spirit of the heart that moves in you

You don't even have to know how to dance, but that you move

And you will know the meaning of the rhythm that chants through the undertones of the feet that pound the pavement

Of the paces that count your steps by the dozens

Because you can't even tell if the feet that count your steps even know how to count
Or that one really is just "one"

More like "again", or "this way", or "how do you do" in one

Either way seems fine, it's either all the same or a refined step in the end

Pressed fresh and thorough like a winepress full of olden grapes

Ready to be transformed into something new, completely ignorant of its old nature 

But we'll begin at grace

And turn around to revel in the newness of what seems to know itself as life 

Because at least then we can turn our eyes away 

Fully close them and begin to trust, something grace wouldn't know about 

Then trust picks up where grace left off

Dutifully rescuing its unbelievers from the grips of fate 

And those left to cling by the lint of grace's cloak 

Only to find we've reentered the winepress but with fresh eyes

To dance once more and all over again

Counting "one" as "hello", "welcome", and "well met"

All the way down until hello's become goodbye's

and welcome's become thank you's

and "well met" with teary eyes

All because we've re-introduced ourselves

To the love of our lives.   

Next post: ?

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You Don't Have To Be Grateful

You don't have to be grateful.

You don't have to find yourself recognizing or appreciating anything a person does for you.

No one can argue that you ought to express gratitude for the grace they give you.

It is possible to live your entire life without a single word of thanks coming out of your mouth.  

So you don't have to be grateful.

But if you were...

You would immediately find out just how much baggage you carried behind you. You would come to know the reason why you fear offering words of gratitude. Your lips even at the attempt of the first word imitate the sound of a matchstick catching fire. The flame would be forever lit in your mind about the day you found grace, and you would never forgive yourself for mocking it. The monsters in your head would all realize that they were not alone, and the light they thought could never penetrate these depths have yet again forced them deeper still. 

And as you direct that word of light towards the one you wish to thank, you force the darkness to surrender its hive of corridors to the one who brought you light. There is no longer a hiding spot for your loneliness, because it has found a home in someone else. Having journeyed there from the road of gratitude, loneliness rests its hat by the door. 

The only one who is alone now is you, completely disrobed, full of light, and fully found. Totally unknown to being totally open, if only just for a moment, the event permanently sealed into history. Grace has been found and it will never be forgotten.

What I am trying to tell you is that you have a very good reason not to be grateful, and that I understand why you wouldn't. 

What I am also trying to tell you is that you have every reason to be grateful, if your desire is to be free.

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Showered With Grace - Poem

 

You can liken the constant, rapid sensation of feelings to the experience of a thunderstorm 

One in which you are always caught by surprise and oft ill-prepared 

Your only defense, an umbrella and a pair of drenched trousers 

Yet solace found in the sound of deflected rooftop drops and puddle plops 

Until thunder resounds to settle scores across the board with everyone who didn’t hear its roar 

It knows its role and plays it well, to rhyme with rain just like a spell 

Random moments of sweet reprieve, you thank the skies for the graceful ease 

The darkened clouds and dim sunlight beams

Showered with grace until nights eve.

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With A Chance Of Rain - Poem

Rain has a happy chance of making you feel the way lovers

Who have yet to lean into each other feel

Its hungry and overcast embrace holds like a shared gaze between eyes

Thoroughly searching for the soul within 

Hoping to quench the dry and quiet land entrenched beneath skin

The resonance caused by an unmistakable pulse, known by its rattling quiver

A message received but unopened; the anticipation of what's inside

A ready awareness summoned by a dodging of passing eyes

When only a blink of an eye in time has passed them by 

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Her Name Was Summer And This Is Her Recipe - Poem

Freshly squeezed lemon skin

A summer beach body

A pound of skin well done off the sun's grille

A side order of fashion and flair for a drink

The campfire is missing so we look to the moon

We flip that pound of skin over to let the

Moonlight sizzle sentimental seasonings into 

Memories that stir like quiet hurricanes

In the still moments of winter 

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Letter To Self

Written: January 18, 2021

I consider myself to be my own state, to be my own country. I have a code, a language, a culture that I care to preserve.  I have an effect on the world around me, and I intend to ensure that its nature gets cultivated, so that nature around me can produce more of itself.

My code begins with the truth that I am my own hero.

To be a hero is a self-appointed celebration of my own virtues. Every opportunity I get to embody my faith, my compassion, in progression, in attention, in support, in patience, in direction, in creativity, in peace, in resilience, in courage, in self-assurance, in the face of challenge, in the face of jealousy, in the face of violence, in the face of indecency, in the face of projection, in the face of inadequacy, in the face of incompetence, in the face of unprofessionalism, in the face of dishonesty, in the face of mockery, in the face of imitation, is in itself an exercise of my virtues. I was without a doubt, born to live and so to doubt myself in a single aspect or to allow anyone outside of myself to hold virtues that belong to my world, experience, or state of mind is to do myself an injustice according to the history of my life. My life has a single trajectory that no one else but I can follow.

I am the only one who knows where I came from and so I am the only one who knows where I am going. Anything & everything I see or think along the way corresponds to my virtues, knowledge, and awareness of my current internal environment. Anyone unaware of their own internal environment is an enemy of themselves and therefore an enemy to me. Anyone who does not trust themselves is someone I cannot trust.

My language is directly focused on intentional support and provisional accommodation, which means that help must be requested if needed, and the request for help must be met with language that investigates the range of the assistance needed. It is good to ensure that someone is more than prepared for the unforeseen.

My culture is an expected extension of mercy and peace, but not to anyone who perceives mercy and peace as a threat, or a tool with which one can entertain themselves. Ones own desire to retain their peace and not disturb yours is an embodied reflection of their virtue.

An embodied reflection of ones own virtue is the heart of creativity, production, reflection, and ingenuity that can transform into an invention that promotes the health and well being of the community, which also provides opportunities for someone else to improve on and develop (if there are any improvements to be made). This makes space for consistent production and a community willing to share one another's work in order to learn, adapt, create, and inspire one another. Through mercy, peace, cooperation, and inspiration we will create a brand new and connected world capable of learning from one another in an effort to learn ourselves much more deeply and to create art and invention that embodies that.

The word "enemy" identifies anyone who projects & externalizes the weaker elements of themselves onto other people in an effort to promote peace within themselves. 

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Dear Brokenness,

Thank you.

for sharing all of your pieces with me,

for appearing shattered and disjointed,

for scattering me to the wind,

Thank you,

for severing the bonds I thought I had with myself,

for the distance between me and my idea of whole,

for shifting me into unrecognizable figures,

Thank you,

for the space of emptiness left in your presence,

for the gap in my missing light,

for the void in my heart,

Thank you,

for the tears I've cried in the stillness of the night,

for the questions that returned no answer,

for the dizziness at the height of my desperation,

Thank you,

for the anxiety I feel at the threat of becoming undone,

for the grief I have when we lock eyes,

for the silence at my rage,

Thank you,

for reminding me of our incompatibility,

for reminding me of your lack of compassion,

for reminding me that there is no escape,

Thank you,

for being unable to fit,

for introducing me to division,

for suffocating the space I needed,

Thank you for refusing to be a home for me, because you know that there will never be a home for you.

Next post: https://ninjamindset.blogspot.com/2021/04/letter-to-self.html

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