Other eyes

I was driving home today listening to NPR. They were talking about a book called Atlas Obscura. The book describes the weird, fascinating, mysterious marvels that are all around us. All we have to do is skew the way we look at things just a bit. I turned off the radio and thought about that. 
What all could we see if we observed just a bit differently? 
Much like how Robin Williams showed his students in Dead Poets Society that by standing on their desks the room is completely transformed or how a comic like Calvin and Hobbes can whisk us away on adventures in life and insightful meaning.  
As I drove through our lovely neighborhood I noticed a small brick wall around a yard and the moss that grew around it. I could actually smell the scent of the moss - it's damp, green, wet-dirt, earthy smell. It was lovely. Had I not been reminded to look a bit obliquely at what is around me, I would have missed that moment. 
Now, as I sit here an type the sun is softly glows around the room and shadows dance with every movement. It is beautiful. I think about today. What would I have seen or what did I see that was beautiful by tilting my perspective ever so slightly? I noticed the incredible pride and a smile that stretched for miles when I heard Lynora snap her fingers. She had been practicing for so long. I heard it and I shared that moment with her. Sophie told me that she stayed at school without going to the nurse even though she knew she had a slight fever and didn't feel well. I was so proud of her. She understood that she could control her anxieties and she did. I hugged her so tightly. My husband walked past me and looked at me with a silly sideways eye. I wouldn't have noticed had I not looked up. But I did and we smiled at each other. It was a simple, small, yet very delightful moment. And I was there; I noticed. 
I don't have to enlighten anyone on how marred and wicked life can be. Or how mundane and colorless its routine can paint our path. I would ask you to look up, look at a blade of grass, notice what a stranger is observing, really peer into the eyes of someone you love. 
The sky sees everything differently, as does the blade of grass. That stranger may lead you on a fated journey you didn't realize you needed, and especially take note of the soul's canvas your loved person is inspired by. Other peoples eyes are so very beautiful; so many different colors, so many different ideals and beliefs, so many thoughts and joys. Just like skin and body, we may be all the same in makeup, but each of emit auras of our own colors, we paint our own portrait, our tell our own story, and find our own meaning. And we are all beautiful. If only we could see. 

Stop what you are doing and look, tilt your head ever so slightly, pay attention to what you see.
There is so much beauty, so much there; the entire universe is seen with...
Other eyes. 

I Know

I know.

We all have dreams.
Ones that we wish, ones that we imagine, ones that we truly dream.
Do you ever want to share them?
Do you ever want to share what your subconscious reveals?
I do, yet I am unsure of what you will think or say.
You see, I hear things others don't just by watching your movements.
Just by feeling your emotions.
Because I can.
I was born more sensitive than most. I can hear your thoughts.
I feel what you may not want me to know.
I question what you tell me is truth.
Your emotions are loud. And I hear them.

Some people understand words, math, composition, codes, etc.
I understand those deep things that you feel like you need to hide.
Those things sing melodies in my brain and equate to language all my own.

So say what you will.
I need to hear it.
I need to hear your melody.
I want to find your song.
Because I can.
I was given that gift.
I have full comprehension and acceptance of what I am meant to be.

After all, it is all for you.
That is my predestination.
Call it divine decree or misfortune.
But I see you though you do not show.
I hear you, though you do not say.

Don't worry. I won't judge.
How could I?
I have both the benediction and misfortune.
But I see in my cards, I am mindful.
I honor your thoughts.
I make them my own so I can walk in your shoes.
So I can feel what you feel.
I need to.
It is how I work.
My mindfulness is my good fortune.
I think...

A Merry Go Round

A Merry Go Round

Boys are so different.
They ask too many questions yet never the right ones.
I find myself resenting your lack of understanding.
But I understand your lack of knowledge.
I can't ask you to get me.
I can't ask you to know.
I can't even ask you to really hear my words.
It it only what YOU want to hear.
We like the same things.
It's why we fell in love.
You made my heart race then jump right into your soul.
I have never left.
I am happy here but I wish you could still see and hear me.
I wish I could still be the girl that you loved.
The one who went to concerts with my hair crazy because you liked it when it dried by itself.
The one you kissed, just behind my ear, because you thought it was the very thing to do.
It was.
It still is.
Where is that girl whose hand you took everywhere we went?
When did my words lose their volume?
How did I get to a place where you choose not to see me?
I try to open you up but you close me off.
You don't know that girl anymore.
You don't want to.
You see a different person.
She is not me.
She is not me...

Practicing Life

Practicing Life

Each day I find myself in a sort of haze; a routine of movement.

A stagnancy that at times drags me down with its weight.


The trees seem as gray as the streets and the light in the sky is harsh.

Conversation is being spoken but I hear very little. I have retreated.


There is a hole inside of me, a deep dark abyss that I fight daily.


The gravity of life pulls and I am weakened from the adiposity.


The soft breeze turns to dust and I want to run away.

Mourning is not an option, I yearn to find the light.

Each day brings distractions that cannot be ignored.


A question, an assignment, an anxious child, one that thought she was big enough...they all take presedence over my choice.


My life.


I talk, I fuss, they ask, they presume, they say things.


I allow them to make me feel less than.


I am the one who decides.

Yet I let them.

Why am I so afraid of taking on my own life?

I honestly just want to be me.


All me.


The good the bad, the serious the funny, the writer with crazy dreams and thoughts, the girl who has so many parts, so much depth, so open to what is around her. So sensitive to every emotion and vulnerability.


The one who has within her all of the things I need and a lot of what others need.

I know that but I'm afraid to show it.

I don't want anyone to think I am boastful.


I just want to be the girl I was supposed to be.

Me.


Still, the one I want everyone to like.


But what if they don't?

What if they laugh at me or question my motives?

What if I am not the person I expected to be?

What if...

That is why I practice life.

Rather than truly live it.