The 9 Lives of Truth

Image by Fred Dawson via Flickr

It's easier to kill love than it is to kill the truth; truth has a way of coming back to life. The truth lives in emails, in others, in letters, in this little box inside of the mind with iron hinges that begins to rust as soon as the lock has clicked into place—it's only a matter of time. And, when the mind is stormy, mental rainfall washes the rust into the fresh water supply and poisons it. It's only a matter of time... before you must purge the poison and admit to the truth. The longer you wait, the more sickly and infectious you become.

asterisktattoo*

Image via Wikipedia*I've decided, should I ever get a tattoo, then it will be a small asterisk in a circle, probably on my left wrist. Why? As often as I disclaim when trying to convey a point or tell a story, It'd be easier to just raise my left wrist, "Asterisktattoo!"

The tattoo after that is something that I've never yet seen or designed... a symbol that doesn't represent love or truth, but both--true love. A symbol for love is easy, but what is the graphic for truth?

Creative Blizzard

Image by TW Collins via FlickrIt was an interesting* week, was it not? Worked a lot, but didn't work much. Tons of sun, but a blizzard and below zero temperatures. Revelations and new beginnings.

*And, each time I say interesting I think to myself, "A professor once said (how often do I start with these four words--a product of nine years of college?), 'Interesting is the word you use when you can't think of a better word to use.'" I've decided that my mental thesaurus for that particular word isn't going to interrupt my thought flow any longer.

I spent the afternoon talking to a long-time friend (and psychologist) over a beer at a bar about life, last night's incredible dream, and my book. The revelation that I had earlier in the day was this, I need her on my book team to help me analyze what it is I'm trying to say--the story that I'm trying to tell. The combination that she provides--knowing me, a lifetime of exploring the metaphysical, and a daily foray into psychology--is a sounding board that has already been chock full of motivation, support, and thought.

Since I was a kid, her and I have always carved out our own space for conversation, either publicly or privately. In fact, she added, we also send out some vibe that prompts others to leave us alone to our musings. So true. We've reconnected this past year as her mother (a mom to me growing up, as well) goes toe-to-toe with lung cancer; it's nice to have one of the few people in my life that I've ever been able to, and comfortable with, telling the complete truth--revealing the bare, naked truth of me.

So many paths, so little time to go back and take them all to see where they go!

My favorite kind of conversations.

View of the Anxious

Image by Brooks Elliott via FlickrStand watch
A few minutes to bear
Ancient bark digs into skin
To support the weight of a dying soul

Crouched and statuesque
Lungs encased in a concrete tomb
Stamina the spare baggage
Dropped when the pain began

Each breath a cold tendril
Sifting through the cracks
Of a poorly built, misled union
Strategy for the emotional storm

From atop this pile of memories--
An hourglass' waste--a solitary view
Upon those that know the truth
And those that misunderstand its intent

The coarse nature of this life
Feeds the angry, salivating horde
Hungry to introduce pain
Even at the risk of love

One powerful hand
Unleashes the force of a flood
Or holds the dam in place
Deliberation: an hour, a minute, a second more

Patient strength for an honest future
Lies upon the precipice of your lips
A passionate touch to live
An inquisition to die

The Place of Dreams

When it comes to finding true love, the best Dream Girl to have is one who doesn't require you to be someone you're not. There is a place for love; where the world around the two of you provides love, respect, support. It is a place where you can feel alive, where you have choice, where you are free, and where you know that you'll tackle the responsibilities that come with loving together. And, when you reach the end of your tasks, you have the time to bask in the energy of each other.

Energy is an important word, I believe, because each does it in their own way. Some recharge with others and some recharge on their own. A True Love knows, or accepts, when you need to recharge on your own with a book or a walk. A True Love also knows when the electricity needs to be generated, and strengthened, by the magnetism that is found through mutual touch.

My home is where I find my True Love... where I walk into the house, into a room like an airlock, that helps me to transition from there to here; from a place where there is no oxygen to a place where I have everything I need to breathe. When I hang my coat on the hook, I leave the problems of the world, as yet unresolved, hanging with it. When my hat joins my coat, I no longer shade the Light that radiates from me. On the opposite side of the room, off with my right shoe and then my left, I leave the dirt that I accumulated from my day, so that I can slide across the floor in my socks and into your waiting arms. It is my transition, my rite, from there to here, ultimately out of the airlock, and to you.

And, when she says to me, "This is the place where you're supposed to be," and pulls my cheek towards her chest, I will know that I'm home. As she strokes my hair, all the world stops, and she takes in great, deep, rhythmic breaths because this is the first time since I left that she has the air that she needs to live, as well.

Hey Dream Girl, tell me when it's time to come home... I'm ready.