humanity in becoming

i am only human - with my own impatience. at times, i've cross that boundary - the one i've never wanted to cross. that one i've been working so hard not to cross - that distinction i want to have from the past, to the present, and into the future. guilt raises, yet it is unhelpful.

as a human in flux, in becoming, i long for the wisdom. for the patience. for the understanding and insight.

how much work is involved in becoming this perfect being that i long for. but only forgiveness can bring me there.

apologies, my beloved, for my shortcomings. for being more human that i wish for.

i forgive the universe itself, for being what it is, and maybe in my forgiveness, will i find the empathy for all of the beings around me, and find the patience for their own shortcomings. the patience for wisdom. the patience i need to be me.

emptiness of the lonely

Once upon a time, in a land of exile,... the loneliness at times sets in; a time where one's language feels so far away that even the thoughts can't seem to come at all - not in one's maternal tongue, neither in the second language. It's like being in between - on the fence - not totally part of one, or the other. Not taking sides, but never belonging either.

Those times, the winter feels long - like a white plain in a cold sun, the snow reflecting painfully the light; one only wants to take cover, out of sight - a safe refuge.

Those times, one longs for one's own tongue - one's mother's tongue.

Not that living / thinking / speaking in a second language is really the worst medicine. It's more the impossibility of being really oneself that leaves an after taste, when exposed for extended periods of time.

Once, a long time ago, I thought "I want[ed] to be a glass teacup where you can see what you drinks. I want[ed] transparency."

Only in safety can one long for transparency; the impossibility of being genuinely oneself sets in when living in a strange world. When in a vulnerable universe, one can only barricade behind the wide walls of translation, can only pretend, and never ever getting any closer than the distorting glass window.

in the depth of snow

as the sun shines through the frozen windows - early hours of the morning, when i only wish i could still be sleeping... - the cold reminds me of the reality - the necessity of rising, once again. of feeding the fire that has died down, of preparing for the day - everyone else's day as well, it seems. lunches for some, breakfast for all, potty, diaper, chickens' feedings, and the cycle keeps going. off to school for some, staying home for others - a cycle of wildness that feel nothing like rhythm.
"one day at a time" - although it seems more like "a minute at a time" - or even a second at times. being in the "here now", every day, every moment. when the future seems like the repetition of this constant business, and the light at the end of the tunnel feels like it might be a train...
... then, one knows the deep winter is here - the cabin fever intensity that makes one long to just be "outta here" ... or deep under the covers to forget and sleep. hibernation.
but a babbling child heartily convinces any old dried up heart that it's time to mind to her, to the "here and now" - and the smiles come up from down below, down from under the deep snow, and once again, one cannot resist rejoicing the simplicity of life. the gargle, a step, and snuggle. in a larger rhythm.

the falling leaves and their melancholy

did i read this somewhere - in one of steiner’s lectures, or another anthroposophic reading - or is there something melancholic about autumn? four seasons, four elements, … four temperaments?

winter, with all of the earth’s energy turned inwards, is a season for flegmatism - a season of slowing down, and doing by the fireside.

spring, with its vitality and excitement, is a season where growth is started, of new beginnings, of sanguine energy.

summer brings all the will into doing, the choleric strength to its power - and accomplishing all. the earth’s energy is at its outward peak at st john’s tide, the height of summer and of celebration.

but fall… autumn brings balance to the cycle with the melancholy of the colors change [the foliage as tourist like to call it in Vermont], the knowledge that winter is coming, and the slowing down of rhythm.

maybe my birth at the beginning of the fall has something to do with my emotions - or maybe its a reminescence [memory] of a past life… but autumn always bring my melancholic temperament to its height. the colors are always soooooo beautiful, it is always sooooooo wonderful to be alive and seeing it - and being in it - in de midst of the color.

if i had anything to do with it, i’d like to die in the fall - and be buried in the colorful foliage of our compost pile.

late at night, that feeling of solitude

late at night comes a sense of solitude - when quiet comes about, and all are sleeping, a sense of aloneness. even when all are here, all four of them, little ones asleep in a bed or another.

being in this solitude makes me alive, somehow. longing for solitude? something i had never experienced before.

funny that. that being submerged by otherness, i might learn to be me - alone. and enjoy that.

irony. when i’ve tried to be with others all along, that i can finally enjoy being alone. when i’ve wanted to be warmed by the sun, that i can enjoy coolness of the shadow and darkness of the unknown.

human beings are not single or simple - they are dichotomies of our world. splitting themselves in oppositions, hard to follow.

i must just be one of those too, then…

being, really

as i watch the headlines, i get troubled. the fast-paced evolution we have been witnessing is mind-boggling. we are in a time of change - evolution. that’s good, right? or is it?

speed is about the only relevance found, these days. no time or space for just being [what's that?!?] for be-coming. personal growth? on your own time. family time? on the week-ends, if there is, time.

mind-puzzling. yet we see more and more incidence of mental health issues, body struggles… body and mind are compromised - let alone the soul. [soul? what's that?]

i find that the faster i go, the more i lose myself - lose contact with my higher-self - the essence of who i am. my archetype [in other words]. so i find myself acting too fast, in the fast lane, with another self. “life is a highway, i wanna ride it all night long…” (Tom Cochran)

well, night becomes morning, eventually. and maybe i’m just waking up to a new day with a darn headache. i don’t want to “burn the candle by the two ends” [as we say in french]. i want to be. myself. on my own.

is that a possibility, even?