I can't really see

I am good at removing myself from the equation, but that is only a small fraction of what it takes to live and love and learn and grow.
What am I in the equation?

Clear-ish thoughts in a dark green car

Eyes turned within to
A heart heavy and despondent

My core,
A vast, dark, tepid pool of black water

Apathy is the name of today.

The world feels like it's unraveling,
Backing us into a corner,
No room, no room, no room at the inn

I write poetry to bring my heart to a slanting sort of truth,
I cannot look directly at my own feelings,
Nor can I tell them directly to others.
When I try,
My thoughts begin organized,
And then I open my mouth
And spin myself in circles.

I was made for telepathy,
But I have yet to find it;
I came before the egg,
I am writing before reading.
I am half of a broken whole.

This record of me,
These traces left
In time and light

Mostly because I can't save photos to my 'pod because I'm all out of room.

I didn't lace them the same because I couldn't remember how I did it the first time...

Sunset

Torthadiel said I should, and I agree and it's beautiful so there ya go :)

Sunrise

These photos represent the colors five minutes after they were taken, so, they're of the future in the past :)

Write

Write when you're angry. Write when you're sad. Write when you're happy. Write when you're calm and contemplative. Write when you're excited or agitated.
Write so you can remember that you're always you, no matter what mood you're in.

Sunflowers

I
Words from prophets in the songs we hear, we take them to heart
Without really understanding, our heads turned to blazing suns so far away,
When all we have to do is speak with our roots.

II
Sunflowers learn to kiss the ground in their last few weeks of life,

Their heads bowed down, turned away from all they once knew.

III
Unconscious prophets,
Speaking truth as they sleep.
Maybe it doesn't matter whether or not they understand their own words.
Maybe it is enough that they sing,
And that we listen, our hearts taking flight in the beauty of their words as we recognize them.

Subjectivity vs. Objectivity

I've hit the most annoying instructive and almost pious streak with my poetry lately... I'm having a hard time with flow and imagery. No matter what I write, it turns into this condescending lesson I'm preaching to myself, I won't let myself be in my own emotions.
I'm feeling very irked about the whole thing.

I understand why; I'm trying to turn stuff around and learn from whatever it is I'm experiencing, but I'm just not letting myself feel, in so many ways.
I've done this before, there was this one year when I was somewhere in between eleven and thirteen, I felt like I couldn't feel anything, as a result of trying to get a grip on my temper, but I was going about it in the wrong way. I wouldn't let myself really feel anything. I got over it after a lot of discussion with my parents, but things tend to loop over and over again in my life.

I need to stop trying to force things upwards, I need to just be where I am, who cares about the future? It'll take care of itself in time, but I don't have to keep reminding myself.
I can be where I am without feeling like I have to change, but with a willingness to change when the time comes.

I've been feeling almost sickened by my own upbeatness.
My optimism isn't really true, it isn't earnest, it's flimsy and lackadaisical, and it isn't really thought out. It's a way of avoiding my problems and emotions... A premature ending to a story that I'm just barely beginning to explore and understand. I've been going through the motions of problem solving, without actually, truly solving anything.

Funny, the things you figure out when writing.

The Dreamer

She sits at her computer often creating and replicating the worlds she has known in art and writing.
She seems to have been lonely a great deal of her life, though she doesn't have much of a need for people. Her imaginary friends, the people she has written and read about, seem to have sustained her for all those years.
But she is a good friend, such a good friend. She cares and loves and does her part to cultivate the relationship.
She is talkative, so talkative; She speaks about her book characters, her memories, her home and dreams, and the animals she loves. She gives her heart freely, and with her heart, she gives beautiful, insightful thoughts. To see the world through her eyes would be wonderful.
She is fond of horses, dogs, and recently, chickens. She dreams of raising chicks and selling them, she dreams of supporting herself doing the things she so loves. She is carefully cultivating her own flock as she lives in her farmhouse at the base of desert mountains. She is a desert child, raised among rabbits and rocks and sagebrush, many of the trees that sprinkle the land beyond her home are juniper and ceder, twisted, dark and covered in stringy, course bark.
She dreams of so many things; raising animals, writing and illustrating books, and living peacefully in her family's farmhouse.

She is my friend, the dreamer of great, comforting dreams.

Introspection

Quiet voice in a loud world
Not really even trying to be heard.

Stuck so hard in make believe
Can't seem to trust in myself,
These thoughts that bleed.

Trying so hard to see the future,
Terrified of what might come to pass,
Looking to a God
I'm sometimes afraid to ask.

A God I'm learning to trust,
To know, to be,
A God, I'm finding,
Is so very often already inside of me.

Quiet voice in a loud world
Not really even trying to be heard,
But trying so hard to connect,
Trying so hard to share,
What if the things I think can't be found
Are already there?

(I... kinda hate this poem...)

Out of the box we call politics (I'll just say it like I feel it)

How is it that people still believe in all of these useless structures of society? Why are we letting it go on? What could we possibly do to change it all?
Politics are useless; politicians only care about their own agendas and getting re elected, and besides, they are so easily bought off in this age and time. Their usefulness to the people has come to an end. I won't deny that they did their jobs properly for a time, but it's time for something new. The nature of time is change, the nature of nature is change, but here we are, stubborn humans holding so desperately onto outdated notions, values, and structures.
But how do we, the ones who see, change anything? We are so rarely the ones in power, we are so often seemingly powerless. The things that facilitated change in the past have been rendered impotent. Nobody listens to us. The founding fathers didn't trust the common people to make the right decisions for the better good of all, and this is still the perception.
But it's time for something new, it's been so long since we've tried anything radical, or revolutionary in our societal structures. Why not do away with structure all together? I have no idea if the majority of people would be able to handle it, but we've used caste and class systems for so long, it is time for something new.

Another Angle in Another Light

Getting Closer (muddling through the concepts in my mind that are generally expressed in feelings rather than words)

Why don't we get it?

"Can Schools really ban hugging?"

We're so uncomfortable with affection, teachers aren't allowed to touch students any more, and there's this strange article about a ban on hugging. There have been a few accidents, problems, tragedies, and so everyone has been banned. Something bad happens, and we make a law against a symptom of the problem. We're slowly whittling down our own humanness with bureaucratic red tape, chaining our own souls to sins that haven't happened, destroying others freedom of expression because someone had a problem and couldn't or didn't get help. 
We're raising our children in competition and greed and hate and mistrust, and we wonder why crime happens. We destroy people's lives, and we wonder why they go to schools and malls and parking lots to kill other people and themselves. We're destroying the Earth's resources and we wonder why people steal and cheat and destroy the Earth further. We won't love, and we wonder why other people hate. We won't accept, and we wonder why no one will accept us. We hold ourselves apart, and we wonder why we can't come together.

Free-form crochet

Made this while we watched an incredible documentary today.
I wish I could explain it, it's so much more interesting in person.
It reminds me of a heart, and there's one spot that almost looks like a ribcage. I really love how organic it looks, like the universe is in it.

Paths

Airplane trails lit up by the setting sun.

Traces left

Funny, funny, funny how very much I have changed.
To go to the beginning of this blog, or the beginning of my time on Facebook is to meet a very different person, this past version of myself.
Spazzy and wild, long prattling posts, and very few photographs. The funniest thing is, I like this girl, she is amusing and engaging, so young and unrestrained. It's fun to meet her all over again, this girl I forgot I was. My name is still hers, and hers mine, though the meaning has evolved much in the time between then and now.
I still know quite a bit of what she knew, but she was only just beginning to discover what has become evident to me.
I wonder if she ever thought of me; I know I think of her, but then, she has left an imprint on my time, and I wasn't anything but a distant hope in hers.

I used to think that people never really changed, but I know I have, and it's become very evident in a dear friend, this change and growth that I imagine all go through, given the space, time, and thought.

Burst the rubber band

Let us fly far and free,
And let us fall fair,
In the place we're
Supposed to be.

(I seem to be favoring quadruplets lately...)

Sunrise

Some days I wish this was all the world is

(but not completely, I suppose)

(and to whoever built those wonderful rock and stick structures; I love you.)

Nubes

Ohm

There is a line in one of the passages of the Tao Te Ching that states that "the written Tao is not the eternal Tao".
This used to really confuse me, as have most passages of the Tao, but the funny thing is, I've been discovering the Tao inside myself.
I realized that the written Tao is not the eternal Tao simply because the internal Tao is.