Viewing the Internal

There is a belief in some cultures that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Perhaps, to a certain extent there is a depth of truth there that I am not ready to plumb, but I know I agree with the sentiment. I have forced myself to really look at this concept in the last few days. I have recalled countless times that I knew what someone I cared for was feeling, just from the way they looked at me. Attention and understanding, sorrow and loss, joy and bliss, all these can be clear and comprehended in a brief second for those who are aware.

And therein lies the dilemna -- awareness. So that is going to be my focus ... I hope, for the next few weeks. I am on a road to waking up again. As is common after a loss, I have been asleep to dull the pain. Now I need to embrace the pain, and WAKE UP.

I used to be known for my ability to see the 'soul' of a person; delving deeply into the WHO of someone was supposedly my forte. Lately I realized that I am too wrapped up in what I feel and I think. It isn't healthy, and it isn't serving me, or more importantly anyone else, well. Now here is the thing ... I see it, I know it, and I am feeling a bit powerless to solve it. This angst is a sure sign of inbalance. I need to center my mind and spirit a bit more effectively. I find myself griping to friends, when in reality things aren't as bad as I am making them sound. I mean, honestly, I have a job; Doug is finishing up school; we are happy together; we have great friends and family. I don't feel like I have much to complain about, yet I find myself bemoaning my situation.

Now here is the paradox. I know it, and usually knowing is enough to get me out of the funk, but for some reason it hasn't worked this time around. Maybe it is the post miscarriage hormones that are still out of balance, but I feel like that is a cop out sad sorry excuse. I am frustrated, deeply perturbed with my situation, and the eternal optimist that used to be the core of me is just shrugging her shoulders and trying to hold on. Disconcerting for many, but true nonetheless, I understand the need for melancholy. I love it, like chocolate. It's dark strains draw words from me constantly, and all of my truly great work is merely a product of melancholy's eclipse. But here is the line ... melancholy sees the beauty of autumn's dying ... depression on the other hand sees only leaves to clean up.

When I realized that I was missing the best part of the year I started to wake up. And now that is my goal for the rest of this month. I want to be fully awakened to the coming months with holidays and friends and the peace of a few weeks without school to dominate. And how, you may ask, will I accomplish this? With poetry.

So I am going to write a poem ... yes one and all ... I am going to write a poem, and then I will report back in a few days when I have something blog worthy (No Kelly, that doesn't mean I will wait until it is worthy of publication before I release the hounds). Now after my tirade about caring for others and not being self centered let me explain. Poetry is my garden and garbage disposal. I use my sorrows to grow poetic flowers. These in turn cheer many of my friends, and more importantly clear my mind so that I can be a person that people can turn to. I need a good loosening of my minds soil so that I can better help the ones I love. So poetry, yes, that is the answer.