Jealous

I jealously look at you and your seeming freedom.
The confidence in which you walk and talk about religion, art...life.
Effortlessly converse about non-esistance.
You travel from here to there without a care.

I jealously want to be you for a time. See the world as you see her.
With an eye of wonder and delight.
Grasping for understanding from those that can't quite explain.
Throw your inhibitions out the window and stand in the rain, naked.

I jealously admire you. The path you chose was not an easy one.
You reached the end with scars, they are beautiful.
How did you survive? Where did you find the strength?
Up and back again traversing the open fields of life.

I jealously love you.


-Annie

Twitter and Rilke

I've started tweeting. It began for work and now it has become a past-time verging on an addicting activity for me. Though much of it has been fun musings and interactions I have also come across some great information....even inspiring....

One thing I started doing was "following" artist/writers/poets/film makers/musicians. I believe I do this in an effort to surround myself with these people that are compelled to create. I don't fancy myself as any of the above or to be the creative type. I am insecure about my artistic sensibilities. What I do know is that I want to learn about this creative-process. I want to enmesh myself around creativity. I want to see and feel it my bones.

I came across this blog "A Year with Rilke" and this poem. Over the past 2 days I have left it open on my computer and have read it over and over again. It has invaded me. Each time I'm seeing and feeling something new in its words and stanzas. In the darkness of the reality there is such beauty and hope.

Posted from "A Year with Rilke"

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of a body as it turns away.

What locks itself in sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.

Pour yourself out like a fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.

Every happiness is the child of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 12


Signed,

 Annie

Satisfaction

I've written about roles, married life, kids, and a few other things that I like to call "my rants." Then as I was doing the dishes at 7am, because I have already pretty much lived a full day in two short hours (Baby up changed and fed. Twins up and fed. Play with children, clean up said play things with children. Get one kid to the bathroom to shit. Wipe the shit. Argue with child why he SHOULD wash his hands even though he did not wipe his own bum. Unload dishwasher, load dishwasher, do hand wash. Make breakfast and clean up breakfast. Start grocery list. Jump on FB. Start packing list for the days outings.) I started thinking...Even with doing all of that in two hours I wonder...am I being reflective or am I complaining? It is a fine line. There are  those that would most certainly label me/this blog as a complainer. I don't want to be. I want to be happy and satisfied, but I can't help but wonder if a person ever truly can be....satisfied? The more conversations I have with friends about life I start to really wonder about the whole idea of satisfaction. Let's face it life is difficult no matter which way you cut it! All our 'roles' demand a lot from us, people constantly disappoint, we are shocked by actions of those close to us, we crave connection and acceptance but are not always able to find it, we want to succeed and fail. I am not saying that this always happens or that life does not have it's happy times...but again I wonder about satisfaction.

My partner on here wrote about a simpler life, and at first I read it with sweat nostalgia. Now I read it with a craving to go back there...to the way things used to be...maybe even to being a kid again with not so many worries and concerns. This makes me think of my recent train trip. When riding the train I felt renewed by this simpler way of travel. You had to come in contact with people instead of hiding out in your box of a vehicle. You could look out the window and see the land instead of only seeing the tail lights of the cars in front of you.

Now for my disclaimer: I DO NOT consider myself to be a writer. I have NO aspirations of being a great writer. I do enjoy writing as a way to express my thoughts and feelings. For the most part it helps me process...much like a journal. BUT on occasion I do jot down a little something. On the train I did just that. I NEVER share these things with anyone, because like I said I am not a writer (or good at spelling and grammar!). Today though I feel compelled to do so. 

RAILS
People. 
Faces. 
All different. 
All interesting. 
Passing. 
Some rushing. 
Some old. 
Some quietly observing. That's me-- looking and watching. 
Trying to discover self. 
Self in humanity, where do I fit in?

Movement. 
A jerk or a hop. 
A push and a bump. 
Wobble on your legs. 
Sit and feel the motion of the rails. 
This is the way we travel.

Expansive fields. 
Tractor dust blowing in the wind. 
And the sun beats down. 
The fields produce. 
Life. 
This is real. 
The dirt, the plants, the sun and the rails.

I suppose that there are times that I feel like living the simple life would be easier...more satisfying. Who really knows. The grass is greener. Today though I choose to be satisfied with my life.

Signed the rambling, ranting, complaining...trying to be satisfied

Annie