Turning the page and moving forward...

Outside of Time

Time holds me hostage 

for what price?

I'd pay, if I just knew.

No note requesting ransom sent,

My days are fading, only spent 

In the embrace of clock arms set 

To run indefinitely,

and never set me free.

How can they hold, yet

never touch?

I cry, but hear no sound.

Time's arms, like bars, my soul encase,

Future indefinite I face.

I long to rest in such a place

Where arms of flesh can hold,

See love that's true unfold.

Vows conspire with time 

to trap me

in airtight cask, I’m drained

‘til left a void, an empty shell,

surrender hope, abide in hell,

pretend that all is good and well

I truly am alone.

This world is not my home.

Outside of time lies

Hope and mercy.

He bids me wait and watch.

Guard my frail heart and body,

Though my flesh is heaving, sobbing,

And my weary head is dropping,

I’ll wait to see His face.

That’s where I’ll find my place.

Yearning

"Yearning is not only a good way to go crazy, but also a pretty good place to hide out from hard truth." (Jay Cocks, screenwriter, De-Lovely)


It's easy to be overcome by yearning. We live in a society that encourages it, advertising all the things we could have if only... (if only we had that job or that spouse or that degree from that school)... all the things they have (and look how happy they are!) Yearning sets us to work toward goals that, while seemingly good, put so much emphasis on the future we are saving for that we don't live well in the present. Then, we look back and say, "What was that all about?" (at which point it can become an equally "present-killing" distraction to live in the past, mulling over romanticized versions of the way things were along with stewing over regrets and "what if?"s.)

In this blog, I realize that I tread on shaky ground: wanting to sort out my past so I don't repeat its mistakes in the future. It's easy to neglect the present. Yearning is such a directional thing, always reaching forward or backward, out of the present. Treading water may seem like a waste of time. I mean, I'm drowning, for crying out loud! Shouldn't I be a-reachin' for something? It's in those still moments of treading water, however, that we are able to look around (to the past, to the future, to the options that we might never notice if not for the moments of stagnancy).

I'm going to continue the memoir aspect of this blog, but I'm going to also try to bring myself occasionally to the harbor of Now, because "now" is yesterday's future and tomorrow's past.


I am filled with yearning--so much so that it's almost a palpable presence, an entity that follows me, standing between me and the people in my life, blocking my view, casting shadows. I'm lonely, even though I am not alone. I'm bored, even though I have too much that needs to be done. I think it's because I'm disconnected. I need to find those connections that are real and truthful, rather than "hiding out" in the shadows of yearning.

Even my "therapist" can't help me with this. The more I connect with him the more I fear him. He makes the slightest little comment on something I wasn't saying to him... and I feel threatened, even stalked. He wants to be my friend, and I'm pushing him away because I feel the need to keep him neutral, objective, uninvolved... (and possibly also because I fear that if he takes too much interest in my life, I'll go weak at the knees and find myself yearning for more than just his advice.)

The last time my yearning meter was this high, I made a really big mistake that almost destroyed a lot of people, a mistake that still looms over me with threatening posture. Perhaps I'll work up the nerve to write about that soon.

I do want the hard truth, and I don't want to go crazy... so, I'd better tread some water, pay attention to the yearning meter, and try to get my bearings before panic causes me to drown.